War and Peace

"Once she had a talk with her friend Natásha about Sónya and about her own injustice towards her.
‘You know,' said Natásha, ‘you have read the Gospels a great deal – there is a passage in them that just fits Sónya.'
“What?' asked Countess Mary, surprised.
“‘To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be taken away.” You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know. Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and everything has been taken away. Sometimes I am dreadfully sorry for her. Formerly I very much wanted Nicholas to marry her, but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would not come off. She is a sterile flower, you know – like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would.'
Though Countess Mary told Natásha that those words in the Gospel must be understood differently, yet looking at Sónya she agreed with Natásha's explanation. It really seemed that Sónya did not feel her position trying, and had grown quite reconciled to her lot as a sterile flower. She seemed to be fond not so much of individuals as of the family as a whole. Like a cat, she had attached herself not to the people but to the home. She waited on the old countess, petted and spoiled the children, was always ready to render the small services for which she had a gift, and all this was unconsciously accepted from her with insufficient gratitude."

You see, Sonya is poor, so she doesn't have any feelings.

This book is mostly about Pierre Bezukhov, his thoughts, adventures, friends and marriages, and about the war with France. That bit is OK. What is not OK is Natasha. She is a f-ing spoiled drama queen. In this book she manages to fall “unconditionally and irrevocably” in love with three different guys, get engaged four times before she's 20, get her heart “unconditionally and irrevocably” broken 2 times, tries to kill herself because of it, and everyone loves her, tries to save her, coddle her, comfort her... and... I just hate her. I f-ing hate her!

After having read this book I am convinced Tolstoy didn't much like women.