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3.95 AVERAGE
3.95 AVERAGE
Ivan Ilych:Well-written and full of good lessons. If Tolstoy was a Christian he would have had a fabulous ending.
Confession: he was so close when he observed the faith of the common people. But he was way to practical about it and didn’t have any faith. I think in the end he turned to the Orthodox religion.
Confession: he was so close when he observed the faith of the common people. But he was way to practical about it and didn’t have any faith. I think in the end he turned to the Orthodox religion.
medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Basically a collection of short stories with no continuation. The stories are great and have plenty of important messages and criticism of some sort. Technically a 3.5 because I don't like short stories without continuation
Tolstoy’s a literary titan for a good reason. His work looms over Western literature, but unlike other major figures like Proust or Shakespeare, he’s utterly approachable. Everyone should read some Tolstoy in their life to make sure they’re not missing its many pleasures, and this is a great place to start. Whereas when you read Dostoevsky, you’re cast into a completely foreign world of extreme passions and histrionic emotions, Tolstoy presents scenes that make the world of the late nineteenth century come alive. His characters feel entirely fully realized and grounded, living in a world that, while different from today, is utterly concrete to the reader.
The exceptions to these deep characterizations, probably these works’ biggest flaws, are the female characters, who carry more broad strokes. Whereas the men are overstuffed with finely crafted character traits, emotions, and contradictions, the women mostly fall into types. There’s the horrible shrews like Ivan Ilyich’s wife. There’s the innocent woman, like the wife in “The Devil,” and then there’s the foul temptress, like the other woman in that story. The women in “Hadji Murat” come off better, but even then they are barely present in what is very much a story about men. Perhaps his early work is different, but it’s the one trait here that betrays these stories’ era.
And to be fair, not every story in this collection succeeds equally. The ones in this book's middle stretch suffer by comparison, nestled between the classics “The Death of Ivan Ilych” and “Hadji Murat.” The device of “The Kreutzer Sonata” being told completely to the narrator by a fellow passenger on the train, for instance, strains the believability that Tolstoy usually earns so easily. Other stories are driven by a Christian strain of moralism that suffused the end of Tolstoy’s life, one that was radical in its day, but seems quaint now and gives the stories a didactic, slightly preachy, tone. But that said, that same moralistic streak underlies “Master and Man,” which is nevertheless one of the greatest stories I’ve read in my life.
The translation is, as far as I can tell, lucid and careful. At times, though, it’s tough to determine if the occasional stilted turns of phrase are the fault of the translation or an accurate translation of Tolstoy’s words; that is to say, should this read like 19th century English literature, with its sometimes archaic and obscure words? A glance at other translations shows that Peaver and Volokhonsky have cleaned up a lot of stodgy Victorian language that persists in the original translations, leaving Tolstoy’s lapidary prose to retain its quiet power across the ages. If they sometimes seem to choose an odd word that best describes, say, a piece of 19th century farming equipment, then perhaps that’s closer in spirit to Tolstoy’s original work than other translations which try to briefly describe the same object in more familiar terms. This is all conjecture on my part, though, as it’s hard to judge without fluency in Russian to compare it, and I leave it to the reams of heated expert writings one can find on this couple’s translations.
Overall, though, this is a wonderful introduction to Tolstoy’s work for those who might be intimidated by the massive page counts of War and Peace and Anna Karenina. With only these stories and novellas, Tolstoy has instantly become my favorite canonical writer (sorry Joyce), and I’m adding his major work to my reading list.
The exceptions to these deep characterizations, probably these works’ biggest flaws, are the female characters, who carry more broad strokes. Whereas the men are overstuffed with finely crafted character traits, emotions, and contradictions, the women mostly fall into types. There’s the horrible shrews like Ivan Ilyich’s wife. There’s the innocent woman, like the wife in “The Devil,” and then there’s the foul temptress, like the other woman in that story. The women in “Hadji Murat” come off better, but even then they are barely present in what is very much a story about men. Perhaps his early work is different, but it’s the one trait here that betrays these stories’ era.
And to be fair, not every story in this collection succeeds equally. The ones in this book's middle stretch suffer by comparison, nestled between the classics “The Death of Ivan Ilych” and “Hadji Murat.” The device of “The Kreutzer Sonata” being told completely to the narrator by a fellow passenger on the train, for instance, strains the believability that Tolstoy usually earns so easily. Other stories are driven by a Christian strain of moralism that suffused the end of Tolstoy’s life, one that was radical in its day, but seems quaint now and gives the stories a didactic, slightly preachy, tone. But that said, that same moralistic streak underlies “Master and Man,” which is nevertheless one of the greatest stories I’ve read in my life.
The translation is, as far as I can tell, lucid and careful. At times, though, it’s tough to determine if the occasional stilted turns of phrase are the fault of the translation or an accurate translation of Tolstoy’s words; that is to say, should this read like 19th century English literature, with its sometimes archaic and obscure words? A glance at other translations shows that Peaver and Volokhonsky have cleaned up a lot of stodgy Victorian language that persists in the original translations, leaving Tolstoy’s lapidary prose to retain its quiet power across the ages. If they sometimes seem to choose an odd word that best describes, say, a piece of 19th century farming equipment, then perhaps that’s closer in spirit to Tolstoy’s original work than other translations which try to briefly describe the same object in more familiar terms. This is all conjecture on my part, though, as it’s hard to judge without fluency in Russian to compare it, and I leave it to the reams of heated expert writings one can find on this couple’s translations.
Overall, though, this is a wonderful introduction to Tolstoy’s work for those who might be intimidated by the massive page counts of War and Peace and Anna Karenina. With only these stories and novellas, Tolstoy has instantly become my favorite canonical writer (sorry Joyce), and I’m adding his major work to my reading list.
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
Well this book was certainly an enjoyable read. What a writer!
*Disclaimer: I'm not gonna get into different translators as I don't think I can add much to the subject. I read the P&V translation.
I'll get the bad outta the way first. The only thing I found marginally unpleasant was Tolstoy's Christianness. But that in itself is an interesting part of Tolstoy's biography that comes out in many of his works, so I give it a pass. Plus my Catholic friend was like, "If you were born a Catholic like me, you would understand Tolstoy." And he's right! But since I wasn't and I'm an unrepentant atheist, I say things like "Oof my lust! Oof my sin!" when I read some of these stories.
Everything else was pretty grand. Obviously I need to say something about Tolstoy's reputation. Don't judge me too harshly for this, as I don't quite know the answer myself, but in conversing with the people I have ready-at-hand at my disposal, the most common issue comes to be the length of Tolstoy's writing and the tediousness or opaqueness that that length transcribes in its readers. Thankfully you and I, for we are friends are we not?, kunak, if you prefer, can sidestep this issue entirely. But for a great many people, readers even, out there, the very syllable of TOL summons hoards of recondite and esoteric tomes of innumerable length and inexhaustible Russian nicknames. And while I must admit that since I am not Russian, nor am I from the mid 19th century, it is not immediately obvious to me in all respects that this would present no issue.
Nevertheless, in reading this book of these short stories, I'm happy to report that I had no such serious problems or fears and that while one Pyotr Nicholaevich may have passed me by, I was able to retrieve him without much ado. In fact, what's more, I'd be most willing to describe Tolstoy's prose as quite lucid and straightforward. While it does linger on the occasional scene, setting, gesture, or what have you, I found it not overly ornate but rather to the point if not exactly properly concise.
So let's get to some more very praiseworthy generalities. Tolstoy's prose is great and that enough makes this book worth a read. Tolstoy's characterization of Russianness seems wholly coherent and gives the reader an engaging framework to place his various characters. In this same vein, his social and cultural commentaries flow naturally from the very vividness and realness evoked by his characters, plots, and so on. This is a good combination of features. Many of these short stories were composed intentionally as "moral fables" that in subtle ways espouse Tolstoy's thoughts on religion and Christianity. This, too, fits well.
Okay, some specifics. This translation had a brief introduction by Pevear which nicely added autobiographical insights into some of the stories. The most famous of the stories is probably The Death of Ivan Ilyich which is a powerfully mundane meditation on mortality (and perhaps a cynical look at marriage?). The stories I liked the least were ones a little too consumed by a man's obsession with lustfulness. Even though The Kreutzer Sonata and The Devil best fit this, I still think they are worthy stories in a way. Father Sergius is the one of this category that I think attempts to break out of the mold.
I liked seeing Tolstoy's personal idea of Christianity come out in Diary of a Madman and in parts of The Forged Coupon. The Forged Coupon may have been my favorite of the book. The short ones-The Prisoner of the Caucasus, Master and Man, After the Ball, and Alyosha the Pot-are punchy and thoughtful.
And then there's Hadji Murat. Long ago, when I first got this book, I was in college and taking Russian and my Russian prof was like "You like Homer, right? You're a classicist or something, yeah? Read Hadji Murat! Write a paper on how Tolstoy is epic! Submit it to a journal! They'll throw it away but it'll be a good lesson for you or something! *dings bell* NEXT STUDENT!" This impressed a great truth upon me that I proudly ignored until an even less amiable version of the same thing happened in grad school; though without the dinging bell. At any rate, Hadji Murat does have a little epic in it! But just a little. It could use some more honestly but it's alright. Having read all of these short stories Tolstoy is a little too modern for what I imagine is true epic, a little too enraptured by the singularly blinding passions that exist within the human heart. Ah but Anders, you say, how can you say that the Iliad is not enraptured by Achilles' blinding passions, his indefatigable rage?? Well that's a fair point. The difference lies somewhere between symbolic potency of Achilles and the individualist sympathy of Hadji Murat. Leaving aside epic, Hadji Murat is right next to The Forged Coupon as my favorite of the book. And it was particularly interesting to learn of the primary sources Tolstoy used to write it. A tale of brave men.
All in all a very enjoyable read for many reasons. I hope to get to War and Peace and Anna Karenina some day.
*Disclaimer: I'm not gonna get into different translators as I don't think I can add much to the subject. I read the P&V translation.
I'll get the bad outta the way first. The only thing I found marginally unpleasant was Tolstoy's Christianness. But that in itself is an interesting part of Tolstoy's biography that comes out in many of his works, so I give it a pass. Plus my Catholic friend was like, "If you were born a Catholic like me, you would understand Tolstoy." And he's right! But since I wasn't and I'm an unrepentant atheist, I say things like "Oof my lust! Oof my sin!" when I read some of these stories.
Everything else was pretty grand. Obviously I need to say something about Tolstoy's reputation. Don't judge me too harshly for this, as I don't quite know the answer myself, but in conversing with the people I have ready-at-hand at my disposal, the most common issue comes to be the length of Tolstoy's writing and the tediousness or opaqueness that that length transcribes in its readers. Thankfully you and I, for we are friends are we not?, kunak, if you prefer, can sidestep this issue entirely. But for a great many people, readers even, out there, the very syllable of TOL summons hoards of recondite and esoteric tomes of innumerable length and inexhaustible Russian nicknames. And while I must admit that since I am not Russian, nor am I from the mid 19th century, it is not immediately obvious to me in all respects that this would present no issue.
Nevertheless, in reading this book of these short stories, I'm happy to report that I had no such serious problems or fears and that while one Pyotr Nicholaevich may have passed me by, I was able to retrieve him without much ado. In fact, what's more, I'd be most willing to describe Tolstoy's prose as quite lucid and straightforward. While it does linger on the occasional scene, setting, gesture, or what have you, I found it not overly ornate but rather to the point if not exactly properly concise.
So let's get to some more very praiseworthy generalities. Tolstoy's prose is great and that enough makes this book worth a read. Tolstoy's characterization of Russianness seems wholly coherent and gives the reader an engaging framework to place his various characters. In this same vein, his social and cultural commentaries flow naturally from the very vividness and realness evoked by his characters, plots, and so on. This is a good combination of features. Many of these short stories were composed intentionally as "moral fables" that in subtle ways espouse Tolstoy's thoughts on religion and Christianity. This, too, fits well.
Okay, some specifics. This translation had a brief introduction by Pevear which nicely added autobiographical insights into some of the stories. The most famous of the stories is probably The Death of Ivan Ilyich which is a powerfully mundane meditation on mortality (and perhaps a cynical look at marriage?). The stories I liked the least were ones a little too consumed by a man's obsession with lustfulness. Even though The Kreutzer Sonata and The Devil best fit this, I still think they are worthy stories in a way. Father Sergius is the one of this category that I think attempts to break out of the mold.
I liked seeing Tolstoy's personal idea of Christianity come out in Diary of a Madman and in parts of The Forged Coupon. The Forged Coupon may have been my favorite of the book. The short ones-The Prisoner of the Caucasus, Master and Man, After the Ball, and Alyosha the Pot-are punchy and thoughtful.
And then there's Hadji Murat. Long ago, when I first got this book, I was in college and taking Russian and my Russian prof was like "You like Homer, right? You're a classicist or something, yeah? Read Hadji Murat! Write a paper on how Tolstoy is epic! Submit it to a journal! They'll throw it away but it'll be a good lesson for you or something! *dings bell* NEXT STUDENT!" This impressed a great truth upon me that I proudly ignored until an even less amiable version of the same thing happened in grad school; though without the dinging bell. At any rate, Hadji Murat does have a little epic in it! But just a little. It could use some more honestly but it's alright. Having read all of these short stories Tolstoy is a little too modern for what I imagine is true epic, a little too enraptured by the singularly blinding passions that exist within the human heart. Ah but Anders, you say, how can you say that the Iliad is not enraptured by Achilles' blinding passions, his indefatigable rage?? Well that's a fair point. The difference lies somewhere between symbolic potency of Achilles and the individualist sympathy of Hadji Murat. Leaving aside epic, Hadji Murat is right next to The Forged Coupon as my favorite of the book. And it was particularly interesting to learn of the primary sources Tolstoy used to write it. A tale of brave men.
All in all a very enjoyable read for many reasons. I hope to get to War and Peace and Anna Karenina some day.
adventurous
slow-paced
[6] God I am not a Tolstoy girlie. The Death of Ivan Ilyich and The Diary of a Madman were incredible, and The Kreutzer Sonata was up there too. But goddamn, it is a fucking chore to read stuff like The Forged Coupon. All of the Christian proselytizing, none of the good-faith (ha) engagement with nihilism that makes Dostoevsky great. Strawman after atheist strawman, converting to Christianity saves the day every time, the most fallacious apologetics you've ever heard in your LIFE, ad nauseam. Seriously, what the fuck HAPPENED between The Diary of a Madman and The Devil? At least in the first few the come-to-Jesus plot was interesting, and it had the charitable depiction of atheism that helps make Christian propaganda shit bearable. But goddamn. Past The Kreutzer Sonata, this was so tough to force myself through that it threw me into a reading slump. It will be a WHILE before I decide to embark on War and Peace or Anna Karenina, that's for fucking sure. Running back into Dostoevsky's arms rn and apologizing profusely for ever leaving him.