Uncertain Hegelian

I finished On Beauty yesterday and I find myself struggling with the novel's casual incompletion. It isn't that I demand closure or tropic satisfaction, but without crashing the gates of form and function, should the array of characters be involved with something, other than infidelity. I can't be sure. I was lucky enough that Randy procurred me a copy of the Foundation Pit by Platonov. Reader that I am of Russian letters, I must confess that I had never read him and am now struck by wandering protagonist, seemingly not sated by the bounty of the Soviet. I was hoping I might stretch my legs considering Bulgakov, Olesha and, perhaps, Grossman. The congestion of late persists and I must defer, unwilling to volley blanks like my friends Hitchens and Vessels.