The Tolstoy I was reading was the rest of "Hadji Murad" (not too bad after all) and "Alyosha the Pot" which was the most god dang depressing 6 page story I have ever read. It's like somebody distilled Ethan Frome, mixed it with industrial tile cleaner, and put a little cocktail umbrella in it.
I'm up to the chapter in the Bloom about Freud. His take on Freud is sort of fascinating and yet also absurd. It's like what people who aren't christians often say about Jesus. You know, like,
"well, he was a really good rabbi, and he had some good ideas in that "Sermon on the Mount" thing. All that messianic religion stuff that came later was attributable to him being a few loaves and fishes short of a crowd, if you know what I mean, or else made up after the fact by St. Paul"
Bearing that in mind, Bloom on Freud is like
"well, he was a really good imaginative writer, and he had some good ideas in that "Interpretation of Dreams" thing. All that psychotherapy stuff that came later was attributable to him being a few discontents short of a civilization, if you know what I mean, or else made up after the fact by them consarned French Poststructuralists"