When I told Jelena that I was reading “War and Peace” she said, You know there is a biography of Graeme Greene by Shirley Hazzard and she writes that, later in life, when Graeme Greene finally read “War and Peace”, he said that if he had read it early in life he would have never written a single word, for after it there was nothing else to be written,
you know there is a biography of graeme greene by shirley hazzard and she writes that later in life when graeme greene finally read war and peace he said that if he had read it early in life he would have never written a single word for after it there was nothing else to be written
. For many years my own sister
(and I use my own for later or now that i'm at it i'll explain that jelena is quoting nadja all the time her beloved sister)
Maria had been telling me that “War and Peace” was one of the best novels she'd ever read. I have to agree, it is.
I suppose that many essays and long dissertations have been written about it, about it's epilogue, about it's plot and characters, about it's historical accuracy amongst many other angles
(i was a bout to make a joke about a feminist perspective but decided not to for every perspective as long as well documented is a valid one making the feminist one no exception. i may if i can or am able to disagree. in my own documented way)
possible. I intend no academic analysis
(for I am not equipped with either the analytical skills or the knowledge to perpetrate such a task)
, just a personal one.
Whilst reading “War and Peace”
(which took me over a month and a week a little bit less than dante's divine comedy whose reading i endured for three months)
I couldn't help myself but identifying with Pierre Bezuhov's character, for I found it quite close to myself
(you see it throughout the novel having crisis of belief becoming a freemason and a skeptic but never in both finding satisfaction. only when becoming prisoner of the french and enduring the hardships of horse flesh and of the road sometimes under snow others barefoot he finds freedom liberation)
: as I once was having a very fulfilled inner and intellectual life I was forced by my trivialities to work moving other people's houses. For some months in my life there was a perfect balance between physics and metaphysics. And I felt so free. Later, on reflection, I was able to understand it and then grasping the whole meaning through Tolstoy's words.
I could never write anything academic about, it is too personal. Maybe later. Or maybe, in the subjective
(non-contingent this time)
realm of my unshared pleasures, it'll remain. There is some place in me for unsolved mysteries as well.
you know there is a biography of graeme greene by shirley hazzard and she writes that later in life when graeme greene finally read war and peace he said that if he had read it early in life he would have never written a single word for after it there was nothing else to be written
. For many years my own sister
(and I use my own for later or now that i'm at it i'll explain that jelena is quoting nadja all the time her beloved sister)
Maria had been telling me that “War and Peace” was one of the best novels she'd ever read. I have to agree, it is.
I suppose that many essays and long dissertations have been written about it, about it's epilogue, about it's plot and characters, about it's historical accuracy amongst many other angles
(i was a bout to make a joke about a feminist perspective but decided not to for every perspective as long as well documented is a valid one making the feminist one no exception. i may if i can or am able to disagree. in my own documented way)
possible. I intend no academic analysis
(for I am not equipped with either the analytical skills or the knowledge to perpetrate such a task)
, just a personal one.
Whilst reading “War and Peace”
(which took me over a month and a week a little bit less than dante's divine comedy whose reading i endured for three months)
I couldn't help myself but identifying with Pierre Bezuhov's character, for I found it quite close to myself
(you see it throughout the novel having crisis of belief becoming a freemason and a skeptic but never in both finding satisfaction. only when becoming prisoner of the french and enduring the hardships of horse flesh and of the road sometimes under snow others barefoot he finds freedom liberation)
: as I once was having a very fulfilled inner and intellectual life I was forced by my trivialities to work moving other people's houses. For some months in my life there was a perfect balance between physics and metaphysics. And I felt so free. Later, on reflection, I was able to understand it and then grasping the whole meaning through Tolstoy's words.
I could never write anything academic about, it is too personal. Maybe later. Or maybe, in the subjective
(non-contingent this time)
realm of my unshared pleasures, it'll remain. There is some place in me for unsolved mysteries as well.
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