Approximately 8 times, I have started this critically-acclaimed novel by Fyodor Dostoevsky, got wrapped up in life and what-not, and gave up around 80 pages through. This is probably one of the biggest reason why finishing it is on my list. Some minor reasons include it being a classic, written by some genius or whatever, and some other thing I forgot.
This time around, however, I am determined to pull through. It was a bit difficult for that first chapter, or so…Just because this man’s way of writing is a bit odd (probably because originally written in Russian, in the 1800’s, and it’s Dostoevsky). However, finally getting used to it, and am so far loving it. It really makes you think. And not so much in a great way…more so uncomfortably.
I can really get into Raskolnikov’s mind, and it kinda creeps me out. Dostoevsky pulls you into this guy’s life of poverty, paranoia, hypochondria, anxiety, isolation, and inconsistent behaviors. He really pulls you into the mind of a killer.
Like all old, Russian novels…it’s at least slightly depressing. I suggest reading it!