This is a book about people. Not heroes, not saints, just you, me, him - ordinary people who are carrying a heavy load in the world and have scars on their souls.
There is no grand sermon in the book. It just unfolds volumes of life calmly, and each story is like a simple mirror, reflecting the common and unspeakable weaknesses, confusions and struggles in our hearts. Tolstoy's style of writing does not exaggerate or sensationalize, but faithfully depicts the inner river of the characters - a river that is turbid, laden with sediment, but still flowing endlessly. Under the calm narrative, it is a gaze into the abyss of human nature, a ruthless sigh for fate, and a deep compassion for all burdened souls.
Read them, perhaps not to accuse, but to understand - to understand others, and to understand the indelible, mortal marks in one's own soul. Because recognizing these marks may be our only path to truth and liberation.
