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A review by fictionfan
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
5.0
The Great Russian Novel…
Anna Arkadyevna Oblonskaya has made an excellent marriage to the rich and ultra-respectable statesman, Alexei Karenin, and together they have a young son, Seryozha. Their marriage seems solid, if dull. But then Anna meets the dashing Count Alexei Vronsky, and falls in love for the first time in her life. As Tolstoy tells the tale of their doomed passion, he fills the pages with a panoramic view of Russia in the 1870s, a country where the scent of revolution is already in the air.
Such a short blurb for such a long book! The simplicity of the major storyline is like the train tracks that feature so symbolically, running through all of Russia and beyond its borders, stopping here and there to allow the passengers to disembark and discover the country in all its complexity. I admit defeat – I cannot possibly write a review of this in approximately 1000 words, and it has been analysed and dissected by many people far more qualified than I. So this is merely a brief indication of some of the aspects I liked most, and a couple I didn’t.
I listened to David Horovitch’s narration of the Louise and Aylmer Maude translation. The translation, I thought, was wonderful. By that I don’t mean accurate – I am in no position to judge. But it flows smoothly, is crystal clear, suggesting they have worked hard to explain unfamiliar concepts in language that makes them easy for non-Russians to understand, and has none of the clunkiness that sometimes afflicts translations, especially from Russian. Horovitch’s narration is very nearly wonderful too, except that he whispers inaudibly every time either Anna or Vronsky whispers, which happens a lot! I ended up having to have the book open at all times so that I could read the bits he whispers – irritating.
While I found Anna’s constant self-pity annoying, she is a great vehicle for Tolstoy to show the changing place of women in the upper echelons of Russian society. Anna’s marriage is, to all intents and purposes, an arranged one, but we see that her generation has more agency than their mothers – they have begun to expect that they should be able to choose for themselves, within limits. But this agency comes with a price – the girls are so cosseted and protected in their girlhood that they haven’t built the skills to recognise the qualities that will make for a good marriage, and while they may have some power over their suitors prior to marriage, they have none once the ceremony is complete, when not only they but their children effectively become the property of their husband. And of course society is much more forgiving to errant husbands than to straying wives. There is much talk of divorce, not just with Anna but with other characters, which suggested to me that it might have been more commonplace in Russia than in Britain at that time. It seems that, if Anna manages to divorce Karenin and marry Vronsky, she may be able to shrug off the scandal of her infidelity and resume her role in society. I don’t think that would have been the case here. But the fact that the man held all the power in matters of divorce – over money and children – meant that the woman might have the legal right to divorce an unfaithful husband, but it would still be she who suffered most. In Anna’s case, I fear my sympathies were mostly with Karenin. I’m sure that’s an age thing – when I was young and watched a TV adaptation, I was as much in love with Vronsky as Anna was.
The secondary couple, Levin and Kitty, (both of whom I vastly preferred to Weeping Anna and Vronsky the Vile), show us other aspects of society. Levin lives on his estate in the country and is deeply involved in modernising farming methods. This is partly to increase productivity and make the land profitable, but largely it is because of the looming social unrest over land ownership that will play a large part in the drive towards revolution some few decades later. Communism is mentioned many times, and not with the horror and fear we might have expected the upper classes to feel at the thought. Levin shows that many landowners were men of goodwill, trying their best to find ways to improve the lives of those who had until very recently been serfs. But we see how the liberalisation of the laws was already breaking down the deference towards the aristocracy, so in a sense trying to find ways to work with the peasants was a matter of survival. I loved all this political stuff, but quite frankly could have lived without the endless passages on methods of land management.
Other quick points – I was intrigued by how the aristocrats seemed to feel entirely European, looking to France and Britain especially as advanced cultures, while Germany features as the model for land management. I enjoyed seeing the contrast between staid Moscow and the more brilliant, brittle St Petersburg – almost like a parent and child. I found the discussion on religion interesting – the twin growth of atheism and excessive spiritualism, both of which would play a part in the lead-up to revolution – although I got very tired of Levin’s angst over his loss (and rediscovery) of faith. I enjoyed the side story of Levin’s brother’s descent into alcoholism and the sympathetic portrayal Tolstoy gives of his lowly mistress. I loved the portrayal of the hypocrisy of society, gossiping delightedly about the transgressions of so-called friends but ostracizing anyone who too obviously breaks the rules, and again appreciated Tolstoy’s decision to allow some of them to be kind and generous, genuine friends. Lastly, I will never forgive Vronsky (or Tolstoy) for the horse!
Overall I enjoyed this vastly more than I did when I read it in my youth – I suspect the political and land ownership stuff bored me to tears back then, whereas this time around those were the aspects that interested me most. The panoramic scope of the novel, the excellence of the writing and the depth of insight into both society and the political situation meant that on finishing it I had no hesitation in declaring it The Great Russian Novel. A wonderful book, and Anna gets the ending she so richly deserves!
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
Anna Arkadyevna Oblonskaya has made an excellent marriage to the rich and ultra-respectable statesman, Alexei Karenin, and together they have a young son, Seryozha. Their marriage seems solid, if dull. But then Anna meets the dashing Count Alexei Vronsky, and falls in love for the first time in her life. As Tolstoy tells the tale of their doomed passion, he fills the pages with a panoramic view of Russia in the 1870s, a country where the scent of revolution is already in the air.
Such a short blurb for such a long book! The simplicity of the major storyline is like the train tracks that feature so symbolically, running through all of Russia and beyond its borders, stopping here and there to allow the passengers to disembark and discover the country in all its complexity. I admit defeat – I cannot possibly write a review of this in approximately 1000 words, and it has been analysed and dissected by many people far more qualified than I. So this is merely a brief indication of some of the aspects I liked most, and a couple I didn’t.
I listened to David Horovitch’s narration of the Louise and Aylmer Maude translation. The translation, I thought, was wonderful. By that I don’t mean accurate – I am in no position to judge. But it flows smoothly, is crystal clear, suggesting they have worked hard to explain unfamiliar concepts in language that makes them easy for non-Russians to understand, and has none of the clunkiness that sometimes afflicts translations, especially from Russian. Horovitch’s narration is very nearly wonderful too, except that he whispers inaudibly every time either Anna or Vronsky whispers, which happens a lot! I ended up having to have the book open at all times so that I could read the bits he whispers – irritating.
While I found Anna’s constant self-pity annoying, she is a great vehicle for Tolstoy to show the changing place of women in the upper echelons of Russian society. Anna’s marriage is, to all intents and purposes, an arranged one, but we see that her generation has more agency than their mothers – they have begun to expect that they should be able to choose for themselves, within limits. But this agency comes with a price – the girls are so cosseted and protected in their girlhood that they haven’t built the skills to recognise the qualities that will make for a good marriage, and while they may have some power over their suitors prior to marriage, they have none once the ceremony is complete, when not only they but their children effectively become the property of their husband. And of course society is much more forgiving to errant husbands than to straying wives. There is much talk of divorce, not just with Anna but with other characters, which suggested to me that it might have been more commonplace in Russia than in Britain at that time. It seems that, if Anna manages to divorce Karenin and marry Vronsky, she may be able to shrug off the scandal of her infidelity and resume her role in society. I don’t think that would have been the case here. But the fact that the man held all the power in matters of divorce – over money and children – meant that the woman might have the legal right to divorce an unfaithful husband, but it would still be she who suffered most. In Anna’s case, I fear my sympathies were mostly with Karenin. I’m sure that’s an age thing – when I was young and watched a TV adaptation, I was as much in love with Vronsky as Anna was.
The secondary couple, Levin and Kitty, (both of whom I vastly preferred to Weeping Anna and Vronsky the Vile), show us other aspects of society. Levin lives on his estate in the country and is deeply involved in modernising farming methods. This is partly to increase productivity and make the land profitable, but largely it is because of the looming social unrest over land ownership that will play a large part in the drive towards revolution some few decades later. Communism is mentioned many times, and not with the horror and fear we might have expected the upper classes to feel at the thought. Levin shows that many landowners were men of goodwill, trying their best to find ways to improve the lives of those who had until very recently been serfs. But we see how the liberalisation of the laws was already breaking down the deference towards the aristocracy, so in a sense trying to find ways to work with the peasants was a matter of survival. I loved all this political stuff, but quite frankly could have lived without the endless passages on methods of land management.
Other quick points – I was intrigued by how the aristocrats seemed to feel entirely European, looking to France and Britain especially as advanced cultures, while Germany features as the model for land management. I enjoyed seeing the contrast between staid Moscow and the more brilliant, brittle St Petersburg – almost like a parent and child. I found the discussion on religion interesting – the twin growth of atheism and excessive spiritualism, both of which would play a part in the lead-up to revolution – although I got very tired of Levin’s angst over his loss (and rediscovery) of faith. I enjoyed the side story of Levin’s brother’s descent into alcoholism and the sympathetic portrayal Tolstoy gives of his lowly mistress. I loved the portrayal of the hypocrisy of society, gossiping delightedly about the transgressions of so-called friends but ostracizing anyone who too obviously breaks the rules, and again appreciated Tolstoy’s decision to allow some of them to be kind and generous, genuine friends. Lastly, I will never forgive Vronsky (or Tolstoy) for the horse!
Overall I enjoyed this vastly more than I did when I read it in my youth – I suspect the political and land ownership stuff bored me to tears back then, whereas this time around those were the aspects that interested me most. The panoramic scope of the novel, the excellence of the writing and the depth of insight into both society and the political situation meant that on finishing it I had no hesitation in declaring it The Great Russian Novel. A wonderful book, and Anna gets the ending she so richly deserves!
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com