“What took me so long?”, and “I’m glad I waited.” I’m experiencing both sensations. Ultimately I’m joyful to have discovered this magnificent work.

War and Peace has acquired an unfortunate reputation as the roll-your-eyes eccentric uncle of the literature world. An undeserved reputation. OK, it’s long. But it is oh so worth it. It took me a while, many nights and weekends, but every time I sat down to read it was with anticipation. I am wiser, better, and happier for having read it.

Tolstoy’s insights are astounding and as sweeping as the book itself. Would I have understood them ten years ago? (Do I understand them now?) It’s not just that: his writing, his ability to range from the epic to the minute, his ability to make you feel. I’ll never read the original, but Pevear’s and Volokhonsky’s translation is beautiful, their copious footnotes and endnotes rewarding.

Life is short. Too short not to read this book.