The B.K. Whomper

No, B.K. doesn't stand for the famous fast-food franchise, but The Brothers Karamazov still takes a toll on its audience. Most particularly, in my current situation, me. The book whomps on me. The characters are hard to understand, the scenes and characters are, well, quite descriptive, the dialogue is, well, quite the same, and I find it incredibly difficult to keep up with who's talking. I'm not bashing on the book, but it's nothing like I've ever read before. I guess that's why they call it "literature."

The factors which have been accounted for must be a part of the reasons why our Professor calls this novel "the greatest novel of all time." I'm not going to lie, I'm farther behind than I should be, but for me to understand the information I must the time I need, especially with a novel of The Brothers Karamazov's magnitude. It's quite an "experience," I suppose.

Nonetheless, although I'm [far] behind, I still have the motive to finish the novel. There's too much that may be potentially learned from the book's thick content. Why, though, do I have this drive? I 'spose that I have the drive to continue on this journey because I have some "experience" with the culture of the matter. To simply put it, I enjoy reading this novel because of the six-month hiatus my family and I spent in Moscow, Russia. Although my skepticism of the novel has been expressed, I still am forcing myself to want to learn about, for lack of a better term, Russianism; Or Russia's background, literary contribution, culture, or whatever this book may potentially offer to its readers. You could call it a passion of mine, to learn about Russia, its people, the lifestyle, and its historical implications.

I 'spose I believe that The Brothers Karamazov offers me some sort of hours-and-hours-long lesson which might act as a catalyst for my interests and inquiries about Russianism, per se.