Anna Karenina–Leo Tolstoy

The moment you’ve all been waiting for!

*Insert beating my head against a wall.*

You endured several posts awhile back with me bitching about this book, and about the parts that I liked, and now you will be forced to read this. (A Clockwork Orange style! Prepare your eyeballs!) Sorry. Weird day.

Anyway, this is another book where I’m not 100% sure that I liked it. It had its moments, but I think when it comes to classics I’m more of a Jane Austen, Robert Louis Stevenson, Arthur Conan Doyle-kind of girl.

Tolstoy was bland. I didn’t know where the plot was going half the time, and he would go off topic a lot. After awhile I had to skim his religious tirades, his farming tirades, his ribbon tirades, etc, etc in order to stay awake. I think I actually starting pinching myself in order to keep my eyes open! Okay, that’s not true, but I did have self inflicted prune feet from forcing myself to stay in the bath tub to read it because that’s the only place I could concentrate.

I’m glad I survived this book, but the ending was the biggest load of bullshit I’ve come across since I read My Sisters Keeper.

This book is happily tossed away from my bookshelf and will be going back to its owner in a confetti-filled parade.

Read this if you like to be tortured and then after they finish torturing you they slap you in the face with a dick move of an ending.

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