I thought this would be great, but it turned out to be a bunch of posh people waiting to get married.
I can only assume Tolstoy was getting paid by the word here too. He doesn’t half drag it on. And then, just when all the posh people are married or dead and you think it’s all over, he puts in an epilogue.
And then, when that’s finished, he goes and puts in a SECOND epilogue, which just explains everything you’ve already read.
I cannot recommend this book at all. In fact, it’s 2nd on my all time top ten worst books ever (number 1 is the Alchemist by Coelho in case you’re wondering).