Author: Leo Tolstoy
Title: The Kreutzer Sonata
Genre: Fiction, Classic
Rate: 4/5 | Goodreads
Reading this book made me realize I’d like to melt my diversity section into the general pot, and simply make an active attempt to introduce more diverse books into my normal reading. Why, you’d ask? Because this damn book made me want to throw it into the first fire I found.
About: So, ah. This whole book is about a toxic freak of nature of a man who made this whole philosophy of how love doesn’t exist. He based it upon his own baseless jealousy of his wife. Due to this jealousy he killed her, so that’s your proof. What love can exist, when a man can get this jealous, and kill his wife? And what is a woman if not a corrupted maiden, who would never in a million years enjoy sex, but is forced to imagine that she does, so that she can take a certain amount of control over a man? This here waste of space rants this whole story to another man, and by the end of the book I concluded neither should’ve walked off that damn train.
Mine: Don’t get me wrong here. I understand why this book exists. I can even, sort of, appraise the message it sends: a woman is easily killed by toxic men who forget they’re people too. But it was still so incredibly disgusting to read. I know those women. And I know those men. Often I get to read rants on facebook by strong women in their safe towers, tutoring other women to not be afraid to refuse, to not be afraid to leave toxic men. But this here is reality. Freaks like this exist in real life. It’s easy to speak when you trust the man you’re with to be a human being, not a monster. This book portrays it all well. (this not to say that a woman shouldn’t leave a toxic man, but from a standpoint from someone in an LGBT community, I know that I’d put my safety first, and seek certain measures before I came out to certain people)
It is, of course, written incredibly well. So, for that, and the message, if that was the case, I give it a 4 out of 5. I’m just real disheartened to understand the world barely changed from those times when this bag of dicks killed his wife, because he imagined something.