The Brothers Karamazov: A hasty book review of amateur proportions

In short: He scares me.

I've only a few pages left in this classic, which I would say is the equivalent of a full-bodied malt liquor - like a Heineken. Ha. Not really a drinker, but when I try to think of ways to describe the feel of Dostoyevsky's sentences in my mouth as I sound out each thick, dense word, all I can think of is the way I felt when I drank malt liquor in Ireland. The pint was a full meal in itself.

As I've gone back to read a few of the classic I've missed in my 'formal' education, I've found that the "classics" usually fall in one of two categories: A Classic and Not a Classic. (Uh, the Sound and the Fury: Maybe I missed it, but incomplete sentences and vague plotlines based on stream of consciousness doesn't really fit my ideal for a classical piece of literature? I'm a simple girl).

So, Dos' great work seems to surprise me, and falls somewhere in the middle. I mean, the characterization is definitely amazing - and maybe reason enough for its permant spot in classic literature. (And the nobility and depth in the character Aloysha is good enough to make "Aloysha" one of my top 10 of potential kids' names - don't spread that around, I once talked someone out of it, before i had finished the novel.) And Russian novelists of his day got paid by the word (so that explains a lot of his verbosity), so that explains away some of what I didn't quite enjoy.

BUT overall, definitely worth reading. I mean, everyone has to conquer one Dos novel, yes? Even if it wasn't one of my all-time favs ,like A Tale of Two Cities turned out to be when I read it two summers ago, it was good brain-excersize.

good ole' Dickens

becca & joe

When they talk to, about, around, one another
they usually can find the other's eyes, and will sit contentedly in a gaze long after the words they've spoken have hung in the air and are whisked away by the momentously profound feelings that are spoken between them in the following silence.

The quiet between them seems to say 'I love you' over and over and over again.

It's in the way they watch one another.

She watches him, waits for him, laughs delightedly at him. He watches her, enjoys her, is filled by her.

Sometimes, we can all be in the middle of a completely normal conversation, and then she's suddenly captured his eye with some deep, unknown-to-everyone- else sweetness, and they're enraptured in something that I find quickly I'm not apart of.

They are intimate with one glance of the eye.
Going to places I haven't been, can't be, won't be, because it's only, ever, only between the two. I think I even feel the slightest bit embarrassed to be watching.

i love you i love you i love you i love you, their silence whispers

kayla jean

I've been friends with Kayla for 11 years.
It seems wild to me only because we're so different in a lot of ways. And because aside from my family, she's been with me through life the longest. From high school dances, to driver's licenses, to college far away, to wayward journeys, separate lives, and separate friends, but keeping a singular home, the same Father in Heaven.

We've lived almost half our lives knowing one another (which I feel like should either lend itself to true respect or...not).

I love that she is intentional with her friends.
I love love love that even when I don't ask, she
PRAYS FOR ME.
I love that she has never strayed from pursuing her Father in Heaven.
I love how she respects her parents.
I love how I can count on her - to make me feel welcomed, loved, seen.
I love how she makes fun of me when I need it most.

I love that she knows me, takes part in my life, adds to my life,

even though we're hundreds of miles away.

I am so grateful for her love and friendship.
I am grateful that she is part of my joy amid struggle.

(And, yes, I'm glad she's found a boy that can appreciate all this in her too)




"Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself."
1 Sam 18:1