50bookchallenge #35/50: Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
Such a fan as I am of the Russian authors, it’s surprising even to me that I waited so long to be acquainted with Tolstoy. Anna Karenina was a long and challenging read, but in the end very rewarding.
As the opening lines indicate, this is a book about families. It’s really several stories connected together by being about the same set of people. For most of the way through, Tolstoy is sly. He drops hints about his culture and editorializes only infrequently, and then only through the opinions of his characters. One is left with the task of sorting through the values and ideas of a generation long since passed and a culture from the other side of the planet. Most of the book is focused only on the serialized soap-opera drama of the lives of a set of very real and very vivid characters.
One thing I noticed early on is the Russian obsession with things foreign. Again and again in order to appear aristocratic, Tolstoy’s cast members imitate the Western Europeans, import their goods, and speak their languages. Constantly the nobles are switching to French or English and occasionally German, ostensibly to speak without the servants understanding, but also to impress one another. I got the impression that Tolstoy mourned the lack of national pride, or rather the lack of local pride in his day, for I believe he was no great lover of nationalism.
In the final section, the last sixty pages of this thousand page novel, Tolstoy kicks into high gear and we hear debates about war and pacifism and Christianity, and narrates a powerful spiritual awakening in one of the characters. Very little happens, compared to the courtships and weddings and exiles and reconciliations from the first 940 pages, but we see very powerful character revolution and Tolstoy speaks to us through Levin’s meditations on religion and right action, and faith with agnosticism. Just as I was tiring of the story, Tolstoy caps it off with some of the vital stuff that made him such a hero to Gandhi. Yet without the first seven parts, this meditation would have been worthless. Not only would we not care what Levin believed, we would not have seen why he bothered asking the big questions.
So now I understand why so many have admired Tolstoy. This was an incredible, monumental, and powerful novel.
Ever read Tolstoy’s memoir
Ever read Tolstoy’s memoir Childhood, Boyhood, Youth? In it he admits that as a college student he was himself a horribly stuck-up little French-speaking snob.
Nope, this was my first
Nope, this was my first Tolstoy. I have the feeling that I’d get a lot out of that one, though.
Actually, I remember the
Actually, I remember the memoir as being rather lightweight.