Anna Karenina

by Leo Tolstoy
1877
translated by Louise & Aylmer Maude

Stiva Oblonsky, an affable and slightly clueless aristocrat, has been caught cheating by his wife Dolly, and brings in his urbane married sister Anna to reconcile them.  She does, but falls in love with Vronsky, a dashing roué of a military man who is courting Dolly’s younger sister Kitty.  They begin a tumultuous affair, hindered by Anna’s somewhat cold, reputation-conscious husband, but the illegitimacy of their relationship causes unhappiness.  Meanwhile, Levin, a socially awkward intellectual and landowner, who is a sort of angry young man with sympathy for the working class, is also courting Kitty; when rebuffed by her, he withdraws but never forgets her.  That’s a very brief synopsis of the three main plotlines in this epic novel (nearly twice the length of Moby Dick).

As the story of a troubled marriage caused by cheating, an unhappy affair, and a happy, devoted marriage, this novel is taken up by many as a moralistic cautionary tale.  The polarization of the insecure but careful Levin, burning with intense but noble and innocent passion, with Anna, who is swayed by her passions without thinking of the obvious consequences, makes up the main characterization of the novel.  But Tolstoy is more subtle than this simple dichotomy.  There are no perfect beings in this book, there is no absolute right or wrong; it’s the practical (or impractical) decisions that people make which make them happy or unhappy, not their “inner characters.”  At times, the reader sympathizes deeply with the unhappy Anna, despite the fact that her troubles are of her own making; and he continues to present Oblonsky as a sympathetic fellow, even as he puzzles over why his wife should be so upset over his philandering.  Tolstoy shows that he understands human motive; whether you judge it right or wrong isn’t as important as that you know why they act as they do.  This is also a novel of manners, in a way, though there are some truly profound passages in Anna Karenina that explore the fundamental questions of life.  As the characters struggle with their own existentialist crises – the acceptance of society vs. following your heart, materialism vs. faith, raising up the working class vs. realizing that many of them don’t want to work hard or raise their station – how they handle those crises is what elevates them to happiness or bleak despair.  Although it’s an engrossing and intelligent novel, I don’t rank it as one of my favorites.  I was annoyed at times, as I can be with these stuffy characters from another era, at their infantile waffling or stubbornness.  For example, Levin’s jealousy is adolescent and totally baseless, yet it consumes him at times.  Anna’s insistence on going out in society, when Vronsky and all logic insist that this would be a very foolish thing to do, is baffling from a modern standpoint.  And I was plain bored during some passages, such as a long tedious hunting excursion Levin goes on which doesn’t seem to have much to do with some of the grander questions he deals with.  On the whole, this is a very fine novel, but to me not a Great Novel.

four stars

Dead Souls

by Nikolai Gogol
1842
translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volohonsky

A likeable middle aged petty official, Chichikov, comes to the village of N. and starts buying up dead muzhiks from various landowners.  The idea is to transfer ownership of the titular dead souls (in the sense of persons, not actual souls) to Chichikov while they’re still listed as living for tax purposes, until the end of the year.  Then Chichikov will own these serfs, on paper, and presumably be able to use them as property to stake out a loan and become a large landowner himself.

It’s a remarkably funny book; the landowners are sharp parodies, marked by greed or ignorance or self-inflation.  Because of the townsfolk’s tendency to gossip and worship the veneer of respectability and wealth, Chichikov is treated like a prince amongst the petty officials, and a celebration is thrown in his honor. Very suddenly however, rumors flare up that the serfs he bought are all dead, and that he was planning on eloping with the Governor's daughter. In the confusion that ensues, the backwardness of the irrational, gossip-hungry townspeople is most delicately conveyed. Absurd suggestions come to light, such as the possibility that Chichikov is Napoleon in disguise or the notorious and retired 'Captain Kopeikin,' who had lost an arm and a leg during a war. The now disgraced traveler is immediately ostracized from the company he had been enjoying and has no choice but to flee the town in disgrace.  There is a second book, but much truncated, unfinished, and not nearly as funny as the first.  This edition is fine for Gogol scholars, but for those who just wish to enjoy this “poem novel” should stop at the first book.

four stars

Crime And Punishment

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
1866
translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky

This edition is hailed as the best translation ever, and the two have done many other Dostoevsky works.  There was also a very perspicuous introduction by Pevear which analyzed some of the more vague passages, and the whole was annotated, all of which helped my understanding immensely.  Just one minor example: knowing that Raskolnikov is named after "raskolnik," meaning schismatic, sheds quite a bit of light of Dostoevsky's intention in laying out his character.  I would have to say that the novel is one of the best I've ever read.  I began it many months ago, with long breaks between beginning and finishing it, which is probably not the best way to read such a complex book, but there it is.  The novel has at least three plots and many levels of meaning.  It doesn't just deal with a murder and a detective's psychological intimidation of Raskolnikov: Dostoevsky's characters offer opinions on the issues of the day, they embrace ideologies that were in vogue at the time, parodying them simply by the nature of their own personas; there are romances; other deaths; two methodical, selfish villains; symbolism through dream and vision; and so on.  The author laughs at reason, nature and law.  Reason fails Raskolnikov and doesn't help Porfiry, the detective.  Everyone makes his own plan, carves out his own existence and scoffs at precedent.  This existentialism is not certain; it helps Porfiry, but fails Raskolnikov, and drives Svidrigailov, the lecher who attempts to conquer Roskolnikov's sister, to suicide.  A great, towering, multi-layered book, one that I will have to read again in the future.

five stars

The Nose

by Nikolai Gogol
translated by Gleb and Mary Struve

This unusual story is a great piece of work – absurd, somewhat satirical, rather mocking in tone, but with an affectionate tinge to it. Commentary by the translators suggests that there is no reason to Gogol’s surrealism, but I think it could hardly be possible Freudian symbolism was not in his mind. Kovaloyov’s social “impotence” at his loss and his haughty machismo upon reattachment could hardly signify anything else. A very funny and sharp-witted story.

A Hero Of Our Time

by Mikhail Lermontov
1839
translated by Paul Foote

A collection of previously published stories about Pechorin, a Russian officer, who turns out to be hardly a hero. Said to be the first Russian psychological novel. In my opinion, the author himself was more interesting (he wrote this – his sole novel – between the ages of 21-25, killed in a duel over a trivial insult at 26) than his book, which had awkward, obviously translated phrases (something I have an automatic eye for these days), way too much purple prose and little action/poignancy. On the other hand, when there was interaction and emotion between the characters, it was excellent. All in all, fairly good. I liked "Princess Mary" and "The Fatalist" best.

three stars