I have absolutely no idea what got into me, but early this morning I finished reading Doctor Zhivago. After years of futile, halfhearted attempts, I zoomed through it in less than two weeks! This demonstrates one of two things: (a) that my mind, like my body, is stubborn as all get out and refuses to do something until it’s damn well ready to do it, or (b) I can do anything I put my mind to. Until proven otherwise, let’s give me the benefit of the doubt and assume it’s the latter!
Now the question is, what next? As I mentioned before, I have a copy of Anna Karenina chilling on my bookshelf. Should I go with that or try a little Dostoevsky? Any thoughts or suggestions? Let my Year of the Russian Novel continue!