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I could see a lot of what Tolstoy discusses here in Levin from Anna Karenina, and I'm glad that I read Anna Karenina first.
When I read Anna Karenina, I complained that it was not existential enough for my tastes. Well, Tolstoy sure manages to check the "existential" box with this one. It is literally an autobiographical recount of Tolstoy's mid-life existential crisis. It's Tolstoy talking about his struggle to answer the BIG questions. As he puts it:
"My question that which at the age of fifty brought me to the verge of suicide was the simplest of questions, lying in the soul of every man from the foolish child to the wisest elder: it was a question without an answer to which one cannot live, as I had found by experience. It was: "What will come of what I am doing today or shall do tomorrow? What will come of my whole life?" Differently expressed, the question is: "Why should I live, why wish for anything, or do anything?" It can also be expressed thus: "Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy?"
And let me tell you, Tolstoy DEMANDS answers to these questions— "it is what it is" is just not gonna do it for him.
There's something satisfying about listening to Tolstoy talk about all the success he had in his life and then unequivocally renounce all of it as nothing but meaningless drivel. It's one thing to reject the excesses of fame and fortune without ever having actually experienced them, but it's another to actually live them and still reject them as meaningless. And it's not as if Tolstoy was putting out shitty prime-time sitcoms... he was pumping out some seriously good literature, yet he still concluded that all of it was pointless! I mean, come on, you gotta respect that. If anything this should at least show you that self-doubt isn't easy to conquer.
In the end, Tolstoy turns to religion as the only answer to the questions he has about life. Typically, this would be disappointing to me. Most of the time going the religious route seems like a bit of a cop-out. But there's something about the honesty and lucidity with which Tolstoy talks about his religious awakening that makes it all understandable to me. Now, he didn't convert me or anything, but I think he has an extremely valuable perspective to offer. You can't accuse him of not thinking deeply, so it's interesting that he ended up knocking at religion's door. When a guy like Tolstoy thinks he found the answer to the big questions, he's worth listening to.
"My question that which at the age of fifty brought me to the verge of suicide was the simplest of questions, lying in the soul of every man from the foolish child to the wisest elder: it was a question without an answer to which one cannot live, as I had found by experience. It was: "What will come of what I am doing today or shall do tomorrow? What will come of my whole life?" Differently expressed, the question is: "Why should I live, why wish for anything, or do anything?" It can also be expressed thus: "Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy?"
And let me tell you, Tolstoy DEMANDS answers to these questions— "it is what it is" is just not gonna do it for him.
There's something satisfying about listening to Tolstoy talk about all the success he had in his life and then unequivocally renounce all of it as nothing but meaningless drivel. It's one thing to reject the excesses of fame and fortune without ever having actually experienced them, but it's another to actually live them and still reject them as meaningless. And it's not as if Tolstoy was putting out shitty prime-time sitcoms... he was pumping out some seriously good literature, yet he still concluded that all of it was pointless! I mean, come on, you gotta respect that. If anything this should at least show you that self-doubt isn't easy to conquer.
In the end, Tolstoy turns to religion as the only answer to the questions he has about life. Typically, this would be disappointing to me. Most of the time going the religious route seems like a bit of a cop-out. But there's something about the honesty and lucidity with which Tolstoy talks about his religious awakening that makes it all understandable to me. Now, he didn't convert me or anything, but I think he has an extremely valuable perspective to offer. You can't accuse him of not thinking deeply, so it's interesting that he ended up knocking at religion's door. When a guy like Tolstoy thinks he found the answer to the big questions, he's worth listening to.
Tolstoy's Confession is his story of living an empty life and moving into a life of faith. A wonderfully written, moving and thought provoking memoir.
It's difficult to know how much is lost in the translation with books that were originally written in another language. Tolstoy is, of course, better known for his fictional works than the philosophical and theological works written after his conversion experience, which happened when he was well into mid-life. As a result of this experience, he became a Christian pacifist, with an anarchist disregard for the mechanics of the State. He regarded his later-life work as more important than his fiction, but it's fair to say this is probably not the case as far as the rest of the world is concerned.
Despite all of the points above, Confession offers some insight into the thought processes of a great writer at a pivotal point in his life. Before he reached the crisis of meaning that resulted in his conversion experience, Tolstoy defined success in terms of his family life and worldly pursuits. His existential crisis reads less like a confession than a textbook description of major clinical depression.
The idea that Tolstoy had an illness during this period is speculation on my part, but I'm personally convinced of it. This doesn't, in my mind, mean the conversion wasn't genuine. He writes: 'At the time it was so essential for me to believe in order to live that I subconsciously hid from myself the contradictions and obscurities in the religious dogma.' Many who have found solace in spiritual belief in times of despair can emapthise with this. However, most don't go to the lengths Tolstoy did in order to find consistency and logic in spiritual concepts that ultimately can't really be reduced to logic in the traditional sense. There will always be a mystery associated with the spiritual realm that human language cannot capture, and reading about his vain attempts to do so is a little tortuous at times (Tolstoy comes to a realisation of the ultimate vanity of this endeavour eventually).
There are some great points on p. 90/1 (in this edition) about the need for more understanding between Christians of different denominations, and about the tendency of people to define their beliefs in terms of institutional customs invented by humans, as opposed to the actual teachings and spirit of Christ. He blames this tendency for much of the violence that occurs in the name of Christianity, which is clearly a point as salient today as it was when Tolstoy was writing. If only Vladimir Putin and his cronies could take note of his fellow countryman's words:
'At the time Russia was at war. And, in the name of Christian love, Russians were killing their fellow men. It was impossible not to think about this. It was impossible to avoid the fact that killing is evil and contrary to the most basic principles of any faith. And yet prayers were said in the churches for the success of our armies, and our religious teachers acknowledged this killing as an outcome of faith. And this was not only applied to murder in a time of war, but, during the troubled times that followed the war, I witnessed members of the Church, her teachers, monks, and ascetics condoning the killing of helpless, lost youths. As I turned my attention to all that is done by people who profess Christianity, I was horrified.'
People heavily invested in institutions don't like the contradictions they embody shown up, so it's easy to see how Tolstoy was excommunicated from the church of his birth later in life.
Despite all of the points above, Confession offers some insight into the thought processes of a great writer at a pivotal point in his life. Before he reached the crisis of meaning that resulted in his conversion experience, Tolstoy defined success in terms of his family life and worldly pursuits. His existential crisis reads less like a confession than a textbook description of major clinical depression.
The idea that Tolstoy had an illness during this period is speculation on my part, but I'm personally convinced of it. This doesn't, in my mind, mean the conversion wasn't genuine. He writes: 'At the time it was so essential for me to believe in order to live that I subconsciously hid from myself the contradictions and obscurities in the religious dogma.' Many who have found solace in spiritual belief in times of despair can emapthise with this. However, most don't go to the lengths Tolstoy did in order to find consistency and logic in spiritual concepts that ultimately can't really be reduced to logic in the traditional sense. There will always be a mystery associated with the spiritual realm that human language cannot capture, and reading about his vain attempts to do so is a little tortuous at times (Tolstoy comes to a realisation of the ultimate vanity of this endeavour eventually).
There are some great points on p. 90/1 (in this edition) about the need for more understanding between Christians of different denominations, and about the tendency of people to define their beliefs in terms of institutional customs invented by humans, as opposed to the actual teachings and spirit of Christ. He blames this tendency for much of the violence that occurs in the name of Christianity, which is clearly a point as salient today as it was when Tolstoy was writing. If only Vladimir Putin and his cronies could take note of his fellow countryman's words:
'At the time Russia was at war. And, in the name of Christian love, Russians were killing their fellow men. It was impossible not to think about this. It was impossible to avoid the fact that killing is evil and contrary to the most basic principles of any faith. And yet prayers were said in the churches for the success of our armies, and our religious teachers acknowledged this killing as an outcome of faith. And this was not only applied to murder in a time of war, but, during the troubled times that followed the war, I witnessed members of the Church, her teachers, monks, and ascetics condoning the killing of helpless, lost youths. As I turned my attention to all that is done by people who profess Christianity, I was horrified.'
People heavily invested in institutions don't like the contradictions they embody shown up, so it's easy to see how Tolstoy was excommunicated from the church of his birth later in life.