Leo Tolstoy: Anna Karenina

I won't bother to write much about this book, partly because Nabovok has said everything there is to say about it, and partly because I have no idea where to begin.  Never before have I read so perfect, so complete a book and am weary that I am only now, in my 36th year of life experiencing it. Every last passage, every image, perfectly reflects the book as a whole, and layered on top of that structural and thematic perfection are incisive descriptions and explanations of human behaviors that, while universally experienced, are so subtle and precise that one would not have thought could be captured in words.  I simply must learn Russian after I have mastered Korean, so I can read the original.