Yes. Damn it. I have not been so angry at anything in months. While reading it I got so irritated with my friends, my mother and even the damn moths in my room! I’ve never been so sensitive, so irritable!

 

One of those books where you like the main character so you much that you feel offended for him to end up in such a state. A book where midway you feel ecstatic over what was happening… only to see that fall apart.

When I was halfway in, when everything was still positive and good and when I had no idea how the story will turn, I had a foreboding that whatever the ending is, that it will put me through the roof.

And what book is this, you wonder? A good book. A great book. It is one of those stories you read in which the end makes you so furious that you don’t know who to blame. Do I blame the prince for his decision? Do I blame that… witch? Do I blame that devil? Or do I blame the author?

How can I forgive him for turning his back on her (he deserves that title for that decision)? How can I forgive the other “her” for tormenting him so? How can I forgive that devil for what he did? How can I forgive the author for the destiny he gave this hero? For shattering everything that noble heart put forth?

Yet despite all of the above it is, in a twisted, beautiful way (as twistedly beautiful as Natasya herself)… a great book.

It is “The Idiot” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

(Damn this book!)

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