I am reading *The Idiot* by Dostoevsky. Doing so on a tablet, I didn’t grasp how long it is. That I remain vague about the book’s length disconcerts me. That the pagination changes according to the orientation of the tablet leaves me a trifle wobbly. That the novel is part of a collection of D’s work leaves me unsure where I am. However, read I do.
I have read and appreciated *Crime and Punishment *. *The Brother Karamazov * is another matter, having thwarted me twice so far. I never caught a sense of its trail so the collection of irritated characters just kind of stand there for me. I feel similarly about the characters in *The Idiot* but at least I perceive plot machination or manifestations. The prince and Natasha will dance somehow, and maybe Aglaya.
I am less than keen about characters as directed forces. I see a molecular way the characters bounce against each that creates the plot. The random acts create intention. Acts and consequences will happen in the next—good lord!—several (I think) thousand of pages left. I wouldn’t bother reading on but that Dostoevsky makes the effort worthy. At least to the degree that he has a keen eye and an unexpected sly humour. You can wish me luck in this endeavor, I may not be equal to the effort needed. I still have a bio of Rasputin to return to.
