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What I remember most from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is how physically exhausting it was reading it. No chapter breaks, no convenient point to stop for a while, just one long read, as interminable as Denisovich's day. I loved the oppressiveness of the situation, the resourcefulness of the inmates, the naturalistic prose. When I read it I was rather young and knew little of USSR and I wondered how could the people who had helped defeat Hitler be so despicable, and my cynicism over Mankind slowly began growing.