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Nadini Saram nadini — Anna Karenina is a long book. The Pevear and Volokhonsky translation that I read is about 850 compact pages, which took me nearly 6 weeks to finish. Considering that I normally read about 40 books per year, this one will certainly pull down my average for this year. But that's fine, it was well worth the effort and the time. I loved almost everything about this book. Leo Tolstoy's writing ability is as enjoyable and readable as any author I have ever read. I was constantly amazed at how much I seemed to be transported into the time and place of the novel - late 19th century Russia, with its customs and social mores and traditions that are so alien to my own culture. The depiction of characters and their inner thoughts and conflicts was also exceptional. I was amazed at how Tolstoy seemed to be able to put me inside the heads of all the major characters - he even describes the thoughts and point of view of one of the character's dogs on at least a couple of occasions. Great story, great writing, truly memorable.

Vivek Sonawane viveklab — This book was an onslaught of whining. It was, essentially, an incessant refrain of "I don't like doing this, why am I doing this? I should leave, but I'm too chicken to leave. This is making me unhappy. I hate this. I'm going to keep doing it anyway." There were interesting facts about raising sheep and their various quirks, as well as a handful of other animals, which made it readable. The author was clearly a fish out of water throughout the whole book, going along with her partner's "dream" of owning a farm, reluctant to follow her own desires for fear of trampling those of her partner. Eventually the two women struck a balance, but not until much later than I would have preferred. Oh, and yes, I noticed that the author and her partner were two women in a romantic relationship. There is no need to point out the fact that you are a lesbian every couple of chapters, Ms. Friend. It's really not a big deal. I got a bit tired of this routine - I'd just be getting interested in the story, the two women would have gone through something particularly dramatic and I would be feeling a bit sympathetic for the both of them, and then the chapter would end with something like, "Then, exhausted, we went to bed...together. In the same bed... because we're lesbians." Yep, I got it, and I don't understand why you're reminding me, because it just doesn't seem that crucial to the story. Mostly, though, I could not get over the constant complaining. I nearly didn't finish the book due to that irritation. Perhaps I was inspired by the author, struggling on, insisting on continuing to do something I clearly wasn't enjoying, just like her. At least reading a book I didn't like wasn't equivalent to embracing a lifestyle utterly in conflict with my nature... also, I didn't grouse about it once, that is, until I wrote this review (which is more than I can say for Ms. Friend). There are many, many superior books on amateur farming out there (perhaps even the ones by Noel Perrin), books that are funnier and with more endearing protagonists. I suggest you read those instead.