Myself

I get excited when I see parts of my own nature described in books, as if this counts as proof that the thoughts I suffer are not unique. As it turns out I have found myself in books rarely read, and I am scarcely more able to describe myself to others. On discovering the despicable character of Gordon Comstock,  the centre of George Orwell's 'Keep the Aspidistra Flying', I fancied I saw too much of myself. This is a man who is trapped in a self-inflicted world of middle class poverty, resenting the world dominated by money, and treating his friends and girlfriend awfully. I'll keep it in my library of books to recommend, for this reason, and it's description of the suppression of creativity by a certain type of working life. But perhaps, I am part another foolish fool. The romantic, but clueless, Alyosha, from Fyodor Dostoyevsky's 'The Insulted and Humiliated'. This fool spreads suffering through his fanciful idealism and belief that everyone should ultimately love each other and get along. He is perhaps some sort of male Catherine Linton, with politics not far from my own.