The Idiot

Fyodor can be a genius immersing you in human psyche and of course, writing intruding and impressively winding dialogue.

But this book... It feels like Fyodor got an assignment to write a novel with absurdly high word count and is struggling to come up with anything new so he does what everyone does in that situation and fills the pages with vacuum.

Not my canister of tea.

Cheers.