This week, I started Eugene Onegin and The Last of the Mohicans. The latter is very dry so far; it was not my first choice having heard some very indifferent things about it. Onegin is nice so far because it is a novel in verse. It's also Russian, and my ardent love of Tolstoy will grow into that for Pushkin (and then Dostoevsky, Pasternak, Solzhenitsyn and Chekhov) soon enough.  I haven't really read that far…