Friday, August 14, 2015

An Odd Sort Of Chap

Gosh, wasn't Fyodor Dostoevsky strange? Reading the deeply disconcerting opening segments of The Idiot has reminded me of just how very, very odd he was: the fits, the murdered father, the manic gambling, the imprisonment, the mock execution, the crazy radical ideas, the loopy conservatism, the sheer intensity. And I'm probably missing a lot out, being no expert on the subject. Would you invite him to dinner?

I would. In a grey world we need more like him.

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