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astralvoyages 's review for:
Anna Karenina
by Leo Tolstoy
In the trinity of classic Russian writers, compared to Chekov and Dostoevsky, Tolstoy writes with sublime skill that justifies the reams of praise followed in his wake.
As a small addition to this mountain, his power of portraiture, of people, places and time keep one engrossed even as the scope of the novel continues to sprawl and sprawl. It is a testament to his skill that chapters separated from the core affair, he can keep me interested in the long-wind philosophical musings seemingly inimical to classical Russian literature.
Jests aside, much like its French counterpart in Madame Bovary, the novel struggles in its denouement. At once, you can read Tolstoy’s unraveling prior to his conversion depicted in his self-insert Levin, which serves to dovetail the story of Anna Karenina in a way that makes me question if he really isn’t the central figure of the novel.
We’ll never know, Tolstoy got into a fight with the magazine that the novel was being published in, though I feel in simple detail, he would’ve been content to write until the natural deaths of every character.
Which I wouldn’t necessarily complain about, and is the highest compliment I can give the book.
As a small addition to this mountain, his power of portraiture, of people, places and time keep one engrossed even as the scope of the novel continues to sprawl and sprawl. It is a testament to his skill that chapters separated from the core affair, he can keep me interested in the long-wind philosophical musings seemingly inimical to classical Russian literature.
Jests aside, much like its French counterpart in Madame Bovary, the novel struggles in its denouement. At once, you can read Tolstoy’s unraveling prior to his conversion depicted in his self-insert Levin, which serves to dovetail the story of Anna Karenina in a way that makes me question if he really isn’t the central figure of the novel.
We’ll never know, Tolstoy got into a fight with the magazine that the novel was being published in, though I feel in simple detail, he would’ve been content to write until the natural deaths of every character.
Which I wouldn’t necessarily complain about, and is the highest compliment I can give the book.