It took me 100 pages to get interested, 200 pages to get the humor, and 300 pages to reach the point where I didn't want to put the book down, but I'm glad I stuck with it. The suspense, drama, and intrigue--once I got hooked--made for a wonderful ride.
Typically I love Dostoyevsky's writing, especially when translated by the husband and wife team of Pevear and Volokhonsky, so I'm glad this wasn't the first work of theirs I'd read, or I might have put it down, unfinished, and moved on to something else.
I'm just not sure about Dostoyevsky's choice of narrator here. Dolgoruky is immature, whiny, self-obsessed, manic depressive, and obsessive compulsive--an irritating, over-the-top character who'd be at home in one of my aunt's favorite Mexican tele-novellas.
I think this is the novel Dostoyevsky should've named The Idiot. If Dolgoruky doesn't qualify as an idiot, nobody does.