And After Eight Hundred Seventeen Pages...

Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy, has many minor themes—for example, there seems to be enough about the inefficiency of Russian agriculture to qualify. In my opinion, though, the main theme is overwhelmingly the stifling effect of Russian society, and how it isn’t really beneficial for anyone.

       The structure and arbitrary rules of high society cause most of the problems in the novel. For example, it is because of those rules, because of the expectation of an advantageous marriage, that Anna agreed to marry Karenin, a man she did not love. It is clear from the various situations in the novel that society’s views on marriage trap people. I know I can’t consider Tolstoy a feminist, but he writes a few situations where, if the woman had more power in the relationship, life would be better for everyone—for example, Dolly’s predicament when Stiva cheats on her. Even if she didn’t choose to leave him outright, she could have created a better situation for herself than the one she is put in.

       It is the same stupid societal rules that trap Anna after she chooses to leave her husband. I’m not saying here that I approve of everything she did, but it still seems unfair what happens to her. Because of her status as a “ruined woman,” no one but her closest friends (like Dolly) in society will see her. She knows entering into the arrangement that she might never again be welcome in society, but it’s clearly painful for her. When she goes to the opera with friends a couple months after she leaves her husband, a rude woman loudly refuses to sit near Anna and insults her, causing a scene and a lot of distress for Anna.

       Dolly’s situation, which I explained in the second post, is one of the examples of this theme that I felt the most, notwithstanding the huge drama from Anna’s side. Dolly is not just anyone, she is Princess Darya Alexandrovna Oblonsky, and as such she must comport herself like a noble lady at all times or face the disdain of the society that suffocates them all. When Stiva cheats on her, society says that he did nothing wrong (and so do all the servants). God forbid she reacts negatively, because why would she ever do that? As much as she loves her husband, Dolly wants to leave him. She wants it even more when she sees that Anna is happy with Vronsky, and fantasizes about living as her own woman. But she can’t. She has to be an obedient wife, even with Stiva’s horrible treatment of her, or everyone she knows will shun her. She is just as trapped by society as Anna, and she clearly feels it.

       The last major evidence for this theme comes from Konstantin Levin. Levin, from countless examples, is almost a recluse, clearly most content when he’s at home, working on his book or dealing with the matters of the estate. But, because of his position, he has societal obligations. Now, he’s not a noble like Kitty’s family or Anna’s, but he’s a prominent landowner and that puts him with them in the highest echelon of society. But he clearly doesn’t belong. He goes to parties where he doesn’t enjoy himself, is forced to take part in events where he obviously feels out of place—for example, the election for provincial marshal of the nobility, where he has no idea what is going on and has no wish to—and is put into countless awkward situations because of these same “obligations.” This contributes more subtly to the theme than Anna’s situation, but the reader still feels the weight of all the rules and barriers whenever Levin is put into a “society” situation.

       Anna Karenina is not very symbol-driven (that being the focus of most of our discussions on close reading), but I still think close reading gave me a lot while reading this. I paid special attention to character development, as that is the driving force of the novel. I noticed quirks and characteristics I might not have noticed otherwise; for example, Levin’s habit of blushing only when he is with members of high society. It has definitely helped me understand the characters better, and I think I can make a fairer evaluation of them as people as a result.

       I would definitely recommend Anna Karenina. It is a fantastic novel for character and plot, and is written in a style unlike any other book I’ve read. The characters, despite their removal in place and time from a modern American reader, are relatable, and it’s easy to love them, to hate them, to pity and to empathize with any of them. I do have to say, though, that it’s not a book to trifle with. If you want to read it, commit. It’s difficult, especially with all of Tolstoy’s philosophical rants, but that makes it all the more satisfying—if you’re willing to put a lot of time into it. I was (and believe me, when I say a lot of time, I mean a lot of time), and I have definitely profited from reading one of the greatest literary masterpieces of the 19^th century.

I'm Still Angry About the Horse, or That Time Everything Fell Apart

One of the most important moments in Anna Karenina (by Leo Tolstoy) occurs fairly early, in Part II. Looking back from Part VII now, I think I can safely say that this is where Anna’s life really fell apart.

       When I first read Part II, Chapter XXV, it seemed to me like it was another one of Tolstoy’s rants. Interesting, but dragging on too long. Essentially, this sequence describes Vronsky’s participation in a horse race. Tolstoy describes in loving detail all the obstacles, the movement of the horse, and Vronsky’s drive to win. Not much different from the snipe hunting, right? Well, it is pretty pointless until you read the next few chapters, which reexamine the same scene from the points of view of two of the spectators—Anna and her husband.

       Until this point, Anna has been able to keep her relationship with Vronsky fairly under the radar, although to say that nobody had noticed would be a lie. But her husband has not spoken to her yet, so it isn’t quite out of hand. Anna lets go of all social convention during the race. She makes no effort to hide that she is watching Vronsky and that she is rooting for him and him alone. Her most egregious error, though, is her response when Vronsky falls (and here’s where the horse comes in—when he falls, the horse breaks her back and must be shot). Everyone is horrified, but Anna openly weeps and is obviously personally involved.

       As a result of all this impropriety, her husband Alexei confronts her on the way home. He shares his suspicions with her, and she replies, “I was and could not help being in despair. I listen to you and think about him. I love him, I am his mistress, I cannot stand you, I’m afraid of you, I hate you… Do what you like with me’ ” (213).

       This is the point of no return for all of them. After Anna’s shockingly blunt confession, she can’t save her marriage. Not that she really wants to—she wants to escape, but feels trapped. She’d love nothing more than to leave her husband and join with Vronsky, but she does not have the courage to do it yet.

       What’s most interesting about this event is its effect on Alexei Alexandrovich, Anna’s husband. From the beginning, it’s clear he is driven by his sense of integrity, his adherence to his own and to society’s rules. He’s obviously appalled by her confession and is strongly affected by it, but his response is too practical, not nearly as emotionally driven as one would expect of a cuckolded husband. He says she can keep seeing Vronsky as long as she keeps it secret and doesn’t bring him to the house. What?

       Is it noble? Maybe. He’s being generous by the standards of the day. In Anna’s eyes, it’s much more painful than a divorce. What makes Alexei Alexandrovich’s response so important is that it forces Anna to balance her two worlds, which was never really her plan. How can she balance two worlds that are so clearly unequal? A stifling marriage to a man she doesn’t love, or a happy romance with a dashing young man who loves her…It just doesn’t work. And that’s what she has to struggle with for the rest of the novel.

Why It Sucks to Be a Woman in 19th Century Russia: the Interesting Predicament of Dolly Oblonsky

Poor, poor Dolly Oblonsky. In my opinion, the most underrated character in Anna Karenina (by Leo Tolstoy). Dolly is many things: the wife of Stepan (Stiva) Oblonsky, Anna’s brother; one of Anna’s closest friends and confidantes; Kitty’s older sister and her guide to married life; and a mother of five young children. It’s a lot of important roles she plays, but she’s still really a supporting character. She helps a good many people, but nothing seems to turn out right for poor Darya Alexandrovna (yeah, I don’t really see how they get Dolly from that either).

As the novel starts out, Dolly has just found out that her husband Stiva cheated on her with the children’s governess. She is distraught. In fact, the first four chapters focus on her situation. Even at this early point, things are just bad. Instead of confronting his own guilt, Stiva thinks that Dolly, a “worn-out, aged, no longer beautiful woman, not remarkable for anything, simple, merely a kind mother of a family, ought in all fairness to be indulgent” and let his actions slide (3). I had to include that quote—it just makes me so angry. Nobody takes her side in the household. But still, she stays so as to be a good wife and mother.

Nothing gets better for Dolly. Her husband doesn’t change, and as a result of his exploits, despite their titles of Prince and Princess Oblonsky, the money is nowhere to be found. Despite this, despite all of the stress in her life, she fulfills all her duties, as a wife, mother, friend, and a lady of high society. As much as I hate the structure and ideals of the society that she belongs to, I think that is the mark of a really remarkable woman.

Dolly seems to also have the role of being almost all-knowing, the most perceptive character and one that seems to have an opinion on all the goings on, if she is pressured to give it. One of my favorite examples is an observation she makes about Anna: “[…] suddenly recalling for some reason Anna’s strange new habit of narrowing her eyes. And she remembered that Anna had narrowed her eyes precisely when it was a matter of the most intimate sides of life. ‘As if she narrows her eyes at her life in order to not see it all,’ thought Dolly” (628). I find it really interesting that Tolstoy gave this role to her, a woman and one of the most unassuming characters of the novel. I guess it fits her well. She knows all the people with the drama, and they all confide in her; but she doesn’t really judge, and is surprisingly analytical for a housewife who self-identifies as largely ignorant.

       I wish I could say that Dolly was my favorite character, but one of her most important traits is also a major flaw; as important a role she plays in the lives of others, Dolly really doesn’t have control in her own life. A lot of this is because of the time; she’s a woman, a noblewoman, and subordinate to her husband. But still, she seems too indecisive and helpless. When Stiva cheats on her, she’s so angry she almost leaves, but after talking to Anna for a few hours, she gets back in her role as obedient wife to the cheating scum. When the household is strapped for cash, instead of confronting her husband herself, Levin and her other brother-in-law Lvov are asked to talk to him instead. If she could only be a bit braver in her own personal life, she could be so much more of a powerful character. But every character has their weaknesses.

Why Tolstoy Needed a Good Editor and Other Observations: Comments on Style

       Background to the post (and to the blog as a whole): I’m reading Anna Karenina, the horrifically long but very good novel by Leo Tolstoy. The book focuses mainly on two storylines; that of the adulteress Anna, her husband Alexei Karenin, and her lover Alexei Vronsky, and that of Konstantin Levin, an awkward, reclusive landowner, and in the second half of the novel his wife Kitty. These intertwine throughout the novel, and in very interesting ways.

       Tolstoy’s style in the novel is pretty simple; he loves detail. If there’s one complaint I have about the book, it’s that he REALLY needed a good editor. As much as I enjoy the descriptive style and the insight into the lives of Russia’s upper classes in the 19^th century, I don’t like having to read 15-20 pages about hunting snipe if there’s no apparent point to it. So far in the novel, I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon. There are plenty of parts with great character development and plot, but a few times Tolstoy seems to forget his audience and go into a rant about something that interests him (and, as it feels to the reader, ONLY him). For example, one of the most difficult sections of the novel was a 50 page or so stretch that consists almost entirely of Levin’s thoughts on Russian agricultural philosophy. It gives the reader some insight into his character, but it’s clearly excessive and doesn’t contribute to the plot.

       I have also noticed that the narration seems very objective. This is consistent with many other 19^th century novels, but it especially stands out in Anna Karenina. The point of view, again consistent with the time, is third person. Even in the parts where one would expect to see emotion in the writing—for example, in Anna’s intense inner debate whether to keep her status in society and stay with her husband or to become an outcast and live with her lover—the emotion seems to stay completely contained within the character. I think this is mostly as a result of the stiff, formal language, which is alien to the modern reader. To give you an idea: Vronsky and Anna are living together, but they are having problems in their relationship. It is clearly a difficult and strongly emotional situation, but as Tolstoy writes it,

 “Vronsky experienced for the first time a feeling of vexation, almost of anger, with Anna for her deliberate refusal to understand her position. This feeling was intensified by his being unable to explain to her the cause of his vexation. If he had told her directly what he thought, he would have said: ‘To appear in the theatre in that attire and with that notorious princess is not only to acknowledge your position as a ruined woman but also to throw down a challenge to society—that is, to renounce it for ever’ ” (543).

This is obviously a product of the time it was written, but unfortunately, I think this limits the extent to which the modern reader is able to engage with the text and to identify with or feel for the characters.

       My last comment is on another phenomenon I’ve noticed. Tolstoy writes very bluntly, despite the flowery language. He will just say his ideas straight out. With this come some strange similes, which, though they make sense, just sound weird. For example:

“A man can spend several hours sitting cross-legged in the same position if he knows that nothing prevents him from changing it; but if he knows that he has to sit with his legs crossed like that, he will get cramps, his legs will twitch and strain towards where he would like to stretch them. That was what Vronsky felt with regard to society” (528).

See? You get what he’s trying to say, but it just sounds like something no one would actually say in real life. This happens several times throughout the novel, and I find it interesting.