It is your own failing. What a simpering little non-artist you are. You have the privilege to experience the superhuman passions of Greek tragedy, then complain because they at a distance from your spare time buying Penguins in airports and thumping such insipid critiques out of your keyboard. The foreigness you are unable to get your head around? As usual, it is an artist exulting in his art, it is that penchant for excess, hyperbole, exaggeration and the out of the ordinary, characteristic of all the outstanding masters of imaginative writing. Seriously, stop writing about your reading, you simply do not have the aesthetic sense required for the appreciation of masterpieces. Why on Earth is everybody angry and killing each other? Well, you couldn’t fashion much of a drama out of knitting one another wooly jumpers, could you?