Good morning! How are you lovely folks doing on this Friday morning? I started my day off with a bout of productivity, followed by enough yoga to relax me (which was the point) and to make me feel moderately virtuous (which is a nice little bonus). Now I’m sipping at a mug of soy-milky coffee (with a dollop of hot cocoa mix, just for fun), and getting ready to throw down a long-overdue update on my Year of the Russian Novel (previously discussed here, now to be referred to as YotRN, because I like acronyms and because I will get sick of typing out the whole thing very quickly; in fact, I already have).
You see, I’ve been holding out on you. I know, I know, shame on me! But I come in a spirit of contrition and will try to make it up to you now…
To recap, after the triumph of reading Doctor Zhivago in its entirety in less than 2 weeks, I found myself wanting to dive right into another massive Russian novel. But here’s where things got complicated.
My Voice of Reason waited in the back of my mind until all the brain cells fired up from the adrenaline rush of Doc Z quieted down, and here’s what it said: You said year, which makes this a marathon, not a sprint. If you start up another big fat book right away, you’ll burn out, never finish it, and give up the entire project. Give yourself a bit of rest, and then continue on your merry way. [Note: Perhaps merry is not the best way to think of Russian novels. As far as I can tell, they tend to be on the depressing side. Hrm.]
Now, as tempting as it was to ignore my Voice of Reason, I knew it was right. And the fact that I sometimes pretend it sounds like James Earl Jones just means its messages are better received. (Like Becky, I believe my internal dialogue can sound like whatever I damn well please.)
Almost two weeks ago now I quietly started my second entry in YotRN. Anna Karenina.
Unlike Doc Z, my desire to read it was not borne out of affection for movie adaptations (although apparently there’s a new adaptation coming out later this year with Keira Knightly…news to me). Therefore, I’m coming at this pretty clear of expectations.
In the interest of full disclosure, I already know how it ends (you probably do, too; in fact, I think its modern title is “that book where the woman [redacted] at the end”). But at more than 900 pages, I think the story will have plenty of twists and turns along its journey, and so far (at about 1/6 of the way through), I’m enjoying the story, the style, the whole thing. Turns out that it’s a Classic for very good reasons!
So there you go, now you know the truth. I’m sorry I kept that from you, but it does feel good to clear the air!
Here’s a question for you: what are you reading these days?