At last I got around to reading what many people say is their favourite and one of the greatest novels ever written. I hadn’t read any Tolstoy before and was surprised at how lucid and simple the language is, much like Churchill’s speeches, clear and without needless embellishment but with a fineness of meaning that often takes your breath away. I was prepared for the sad tale of Anna, but amazed at how realistic the collapse of her mental state seemed. I could really see the decline and fall of this woman. And I was delighted with Levin, who is a bit of a self portrait of Tolstoy’s, a man who struggles with his role as a landowner, with his faith and with the entire meaning of existence. I saw the film The Last Station recently and between that, and seeing the wonderful performance of Uncle Vanya that Sydney Theatre Company put on late last year, I really feel as if I am gaining some sort of handle on the Russian situation, then of course, not now.
So back to the book. Brilliant, a masterpiece, all the clichés. It took me a month to read it, dipping in and out, because it’s not a story you race through. I was glad to have the time and a peaceful environment in which to explore it and to think about the concepts and enjoy the language, and glad to be old enough to understand and have experienced the aspects of human nature that Tolstoy explores.
5 stars
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