WRP 7: Russia

World Reading Project, Book #7

Russia

Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy, 1878

UGH. This is the second time I've read Anna Karenina. The first time I was maybe 17 or 18? And I think I remember really loving it. I've liked Russian literature for a long time, probably inspired by my dad, whose favorite book is The Brothers Karamazov. And I reread it fully expecting to love it again. WRONG. I hated every male character, and probably hated Levin the most, and I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be the sympathetic one? In my personal notes of books I read I started with "REMIND ME NEVER TO READ THIS AGAIN!!!". Okay, so the things I hate about Levin were specifically how his love is so special and so above what everyone else feels. And it's such a misogynistic attitude because he places such little importance on women's work and the preparations that need to happen for home life.
"Just as Levin had disliked all the trivial preparations for his wedding, as derogatory to the grandeur of the event, now he felt still more offensive the preparations for the approaching birth, the date of which they reckoned, it seemed, on their fingers. He tried to turn a deaf ear to these discussions of the best patterns of long clothes for the coming baby; tried to turn away and avoid seeing the mysterious, endless strips of knitting, the triangles of linen, and so on, to which Dolly attached special importance. The birth of a son (he was certain it would be a son) which was promised him, but which he still could not believe in—so marvelous it seemed—presented itself to his mind, on one hand, as a happiness so immense, and therefore so incredible; on the other, as an event so mysterious, that this assumption of a definite knowledge of what would be, and consequent preparation for it, as for something ordinary that did happen to people, jarred on him as confusing and humiliating." 

And how dare someone allude to his love: 

"Darya Alexandrovna too, as she said good-bye to him, gave him a sort of congratulation, saying, “How glad I am you have met Kitty again! One must value old friends.” Levin did not like these words of Darya Alexandrovna’s. She could not understand how lofty and beyond her it all was, and she ought not to have dared to allude to it."

I also read a bit about Tolstoy's life while I was reading Anna Karenina, and boy that did not help at all. He was a horrible jerk to his wife, and a lot of the things I hate about Levin seem to be Tolstoy's own thoughts and attitudes. When I read, my emotions can really determine how I feel about a book, and increasingly if I learn things about an author that disgust me, it's hard for me to enjoy reading their work. It's not really a conscious decision and I'm surrounded by academics who decidedly do not read books this way, and can make me feel self-conscious about how I read books. But then frequently they're not really reading for pleasure anyway.

I kept reading because even though I grew to really really detest the characters,

Tolstoy's writing about inner life just amazes me. I think he's a master at writing the shifting nature of human emotions and thoughts, and especially of making plans and resolutions that are then forgotten, or waste away. "He felt himself, and did not want to be anyone else. All he wanted now was to be better than before. In the first place he resolved that from that day he would give up hoping for any extraordinary happiness, such as marriage must have given him, and consequently he would not so disdain what he really had. ...And all this seemed to him so easy a conquest over himself that he spent the whole drive in the pleasantest daydreams. With a resolute feeling of hope in a new, better life, he reached home before nine o’clock at night."

And this made me laugh: "There happened to him at that instant what does happen to people when they are unexpectedly caught in something very disgraceful. He did not succeed in adapting his face to the position in which he was placed towards his wife by the discovery of his fault. Instead of being hurt, denying, defending himself, begging forgiveness, instead of remaining indifferent even—anything would have been better than what he did do—his face utterly involuntarily (reflex spinal action, reflected Stepan Arkadyevitch, who was fond of physiology)—utterly involuntarily assumed its habitual, good-humored, and therefore idiotic smile."

In relation to my mail hobby, I'll leave you with some lovely quotes about writing letters:

"Countess Lidia Ivanovna usually wrote some two or three letters a day to Alexey Alexandrovitch. She enjoyed that form of communication, which gave opportunity for a refinement and air of mystery not afforded by their personal interviews."

"Folding the letter and smoothing it with a massive ivory knife, and putting it in an envelope with the money, he rang the bell with the gratification it always afforded him to use the well arranged appointments of his writing-table."