Because I actually fell asleep while reading this book.
That’s when I knew it was time to stop.
You have to understand something about me and books. I love them. They are my favorite class of inanimate object on the face of the planet. Also, for me, books and sleep don’t mix.
I have several stories, usually involving a series of books, which involve me staying awake for 48+ hours. When I am reading, I can’t sleep. It simply doesn’t happen. I realize this isn’t true for everyone, but I’m not exaggerating. I have literally stayed up fordays to work my way through classic serials like Lord of the Rings, Anne of Green Gables, Harry Potter, etc…
So the fact that I fell asleep trying to slog through Dostoevsky’s seminal work two nights and a row can only mean one of three things:
- I am desperately in need of sleep, even more so than when I was in the first half of my 20s, working full time, schooling full time, and trying to fit in appropriately chaperoned quality time with a future husband (full time).
- Decades-old reading habits have suddenly and inexplicably changed.
- The book stinks.
You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?
I gave up after the first 50 pages, which is 30 more pages than I read the first time I tried this book, back in my school days. So there’s an accomplishment, here. I know there’s a poor guy, whose life is very depressing. And his landlord seems about as amazing as mine. That’s as far as I got.
On the bright side, I now have a no-fail sleep aid.