Today's lesson is brought to us by Shakespeare.
Brevity [often] is the sole of wit.
So I have been trying, and not for the first time, to read Dostoevsky.
And once again I am finding myself having my Dickens-complex.
Or at least, symptoms of my Dickens-complex (See note).
I simply cannot get through it.
I've tried The Brothers Karamazov. Notes from the Underground. Selected short stories.
And I get bogged down.
I mean, Fyoder - what were you thinking? A 67 page short story? That's a short novella.
I can do long. Elliot's Middlemarch? Loved it. Lord of the Rings? Once I skipped the Tom Bombadil section.
It's just something about Dostoevsky. Maybe it's the long names. I dunno.
Allow me to define the dreaded D-C (or c-d-c, if you want to be formal with old Chuck).
I know that I like Charles Dickens.
I will watch any Dickens based film any time of the year. They make me think of Christmas
Frankly, I like Dickensian times. Not the epidemics, labor conditions, or rigid social castes. But the outfits, party games, parlors, and country dances.
But when I sit with my annual Dickens attempt, I often find myself finding other things to do or getting stuck after page 30. Why 30? I don't know.