The works of Fyodor Mikhailovich (of course, Dostoevsky!).

Dostoevsky is gloomy; when you read him, you don't see any light. You don't feel like living. There are mental torments, anguish, and suffering. All of this is complemented by descriptions of dirty alleys, gloomy landscapes, squalid surroundings, and the dregs of society, etc. As a reader, I have a feeling of hopelessness and a dead end. It creates tension... I can't stand such an intense negativity and darkness. I abandon this hopeless endeavor. Where is the light at the end of the tunnel, I ask? :) And even though I know that this light exists, both in "Crime and Punishment" and in "The Idiot," it is still insufficient for me, somehow dim and gray. Overall, it's a constant moral dissatisfaction. Tolstoy is different. Perhaps different sufferings, different torments. But this resonates with me. It's a kind of bright sadness. There is no feeling of that universal melancholy of Dostoevsky, which gnaws at you from within like a worm. Therefore, it's not that I don't understand Dostoevsky; I simply don't accept him.

But I liked Sholokhov and his "And Quiet Flows the Don." In general, it's strange, but I love literary works about that period – the beginning of Soviet power, the formation, if you can call it that. I don't understand myself what attracts me to it, but...

It's funny, but I don't like that turbulent, chaotic time. Therefore, I also only managed to read "And Quiet Flows the Don" in a retelling by Gerasimov. These are the two works that I couldn't get through – "Crime and Punishment" and "And Quiet Flows the Don." It's funny how it turned out. :) Although, as a genre, I really like such broad, panoramic works (like "War and Peace"). Apparently, it's because I'm a historian. At one time, I devoured "The Forsyte Saga." It's not quite an epic, of course, and not as passionate as Sholokhov's. English pedantry :rolleyes: Another reason I remembered Galsworthy... it all relates to Turgenev. In my opinion, he is one of the two unsurpassed masters of landscape.

And in general, not all great writers can be to the liking of absolutely everyone; this is some kind of porcelain perfection of a dead thought, in my opinion.

"Everyone has their own taste: one likes watermelon, the other likes pork cartilage." :D ;)