The media, the fashion, the times, the flavor-of-the-day, pop-psychology rendering importance to what was and has been obsolete, pushing under yesterday’s news, birthing one, and submerging another, in a neverending march and wave of ideas and materials to sell the minions, the idiots any of WHAT will make their lives better, smarter, thinner, richer.
I do love the substantive quality of paper and leather bound books, and treasure the words so carefully taken down, to be frozen in time as long as they manage to survive a good, old fashioned book burning or some artists collage rip-apart. Aren’t the relational psychology books of the 1960’s the very best?!
The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoyevsky has been a part of my survived book collection over the past twenty-something years (no Goodwill culling) and I have started to read the book a half dozen times or more, but have never gotten to the hooking point. Perhaps, this year I am ready?
Prince Myshkin, Dostoyevsky’s character is "a saintly, Christ-like, yet deeply human figure. The story begins when Myshkin arrives on Russian soil after a stay in a Swiss sanatorium. Scorned by St. Petersburg society as an idiot for his generosity and innocence, the prince finds himself at the center of a struggle between a rich, kept woman and a beautiful, virtuous girl, who both hope to win his affection. Unfortunately, Myshkin’s very goodness seems to bring disaster to everyone he meets. The shocking denouement tragically reveals how, in a world obsessed with money, power, and sexual conquest, a sanatorium is the only place for a saint." --thriftbooks
Photo credits: Both from Creative Commons images
