Book Review: Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy

Today is Leo Tolstoy’s 186^th birthday, so it seems timely to post my review of Anna Karenina. My grandparents bought me the book for my 23^rd birthday, but I didn’t actually read it until this year. I say read – I devoured it on holiday and on every work lunch break until I finished it.

 

Published in instalments between 1873 and 1877, the novel documents Anna’s ill-fated affair with Count Vronsky. Contrasted with this is the story of Levin, a pensive man who’s searching for meaning in his life.

First, let me give you a bit of history – I watched the Kiera Knightley version of the film a few years ago and, while I was quite disappointed, I became curious about the book. In the film, Levin’s story felt like a random addition rather than an important part of the story, so I wanted to know what significance he held in Tolstoy’s novel.

 

Anna Karenina opens with Anna’s brother, Stephan Oblonsky, in trouble with his wife, Dolly, for having an affair with the children’s nanny. Anna comes to their residence in Moscow to resolve the dispute and keep the marriage together. Levin, Oblonsky’s friend, also travels to Moscow from his farming estate in the country to propose to Dolly’s youngest sister, Kitty. 

 

He learns that Kitty is being courted by Alexei Vronsky – Kitty turns down Levin but, at an important ball, she realises Vronsky has fallen in love with Anna and won’t marry her. Anna and Vronsky met briefly when Anna arrived in Moscow, after travelling with Vronsky’s mother. 

 

Anna is shaken by her reaction to Vronsky – who declares his love for her – and realises, when she returns to St. Petersburg, that she does not love her husband. She remains devoted, however, to her son, Seryozha.

She does, eventually, leave Alexei for Vronsky, and so the drama unfolds...

 

AK is rich in issues of class, gender, politics, religion... but, overall, I felt the main theme was social inequality – particularly the differences between men and women, and rich and poor.

 

I thought I would find Anna a strong, admirable character, but as her affair progresses with Vronsky, she changes from confident and respected to jealous, volatile and manipulative. I can’t say I felt sad for her at the end. However, it is deeply unfair how Vronsky is still welcomed in society and the political arena, while Anna is wholly rejected by society and her supposed friends. Twinned with this is Alexei’s loss of respect and power because of Anna’s affair – deemed unmanly for not being able to keep his wife, he, too, suffers. The affair demonstrates the rigid social expectations of men and women in 19^th century Russia, which I found fascinating and a little disturbing.

 

While Anna is acting out her own ruin in the cities, Levin escapes back to the country after his failed proposal to Kitty. I found him bad-tempered and a little self-absorbed, but his narrative gave the novel a more philosophical edge – he questions how to make changes to farming, and how to make his workers more effective, but their adversity to change and his inability to implement it seems to be a wider reflection on 19^th century Russia as a whole.

 

I was fond of Stephan Oblonsky - he is a bit of a rogue, not paying his debts and being unfaithful to his wife, but his actions do provide light relief. I laughed out loud when Levin, Vronsky, Oblonsky and a few others are voting in Parliament, and the vote counters pull out a nut and a button from the ballot box. It was so unexpected that it really made me giggle!  

Anna Karenina is an intelligent read and a true classic; I can’t wait to read more of Tolstoy’s work.

Happy birthday Tolstoy!

Book review: The Secret Keeper, by Kate Morton

The day I moved stables, my lovely adopted sister (as in, I adopted her in my mind. She's not an actual orphan) bought me this book as a leaving present, having remembered that I really enjoyed Morton's The House at Riverton. 

The Secret Keeper
7/10

Before we begin, let me tell you that this book has a shocking, and I mean shocking, twist. My mouth actually fell open and I did a sort-of comedy gasp.

The novel is in four parts, told by Laurel Nicholson, Dorothy Smitham (Laurel's mother) and Vivien Jenkins. The plot revolves around a secret Dorothy has held almost all her life, related to the fateful day her eldest daughter witnessed her murder a man. In Dorothy's old age, she begins to reveal fragments of what happened, but  decides to investigate and find out exactly why her loving mother stabbed a man to death.

Set before, during and after WWII, Dorothy's and Vivien's tales takes place largely during the Blitz (1941). Morton's description of the bombs' effects is stark and thankfully not romanticized - the image of civilians picking their way through the rubble-strewn streets, and the strangely exposed nature of houses with walls missing, where people can watch the intimate happenings of people's privates lives from the roadside, shows how people just had to keep calm and carry on, even though their lives were literally falling apart around them.

What I found most thought-provoking, however, was how Dorothy's boyfriend, Jimmy, questions his role as a war photographer, particularly when his own apartment is hit. Jimmy's desperation to find his WWI veteran father, who suffers memory loss, is devastating - but it cleverly reflects how easily people's role could be reversed. Instead of being at a bomb site to photograph it, Jimmy becomes a victim. This in itself raises an ethical argument over the responsibility of photographing tragic events such as war, and how they should be represented, and even who has the right to represent them.

Morton has many strengths, including writing complex and sometimes unlikable characters - Dorothy being one of them. Her childish plan to seek revenge because Vivien shuns her - you later find out why - and her desperation to climb the social ladder made me think of her as a frivolous, selfish girl, particularly when compared to the resolute and brave Vivien.

The novel became a little slow in the middle, but perhaps this was necessary as so many characters were implicated in finding out the truth about Dorothy Smitham. And trust me, it really is worth finding out.

Book review: The Heart Specialist, by Claire Holden Rothman

While I was interning at Oneworld, they had a big clear out before their 'Hen' party (a celebration of the UK publication of the immensely successful The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly by Sun-mi Hwang). I rather took advantage of their offer to 'take whatever I wanted' and carried 14 books home.

The first book I decided to read was Holden Rothman's debut novel, The Heart Specialist...

The Heart Specialist
8/10

The novel is set at the turn of the 19th century in Canada. Agnes White, the protagonist, wants to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor, but her intelligence is deemed unwomanly and she faces opposition at every stage of her journey. As a character, she is determined and passionate - Agnes is somewhat of an anti-heroine through her ungainliness, plainness and general lack of adherence to social rules of what a woman should be. She is, however, very human, and desperately longs to be reunited with her father - he was accused of horrifically murdering his disabled sister and disappeared when Agnes was very young.

I felt that this novel was about human weakness as much as human strength - from Agnes' blindness to her colleague's affection, to her sister's mental illness, to her mentor's breakdown at the death of his son, The Heart Specialist is an ironic title; Agnes understands the most complicated heart disorders, but can't understand her own!

The novel has been criticised for reading too much like a biography, instead of fiction based on real life - Agnes is inspired by Maude Abbott, one of Canada's first female physicians. Yes, the text isn't littered with lengthy descriptions and emotional solloquies, but this was what made it consistent with Agnes' character - while she is prone to ill-timed fits of tears, she spends more time studying than pondering her confused emotions.

Agnes does become an accomplished doctor, but the absence of her father overshadows her personal and private life. Two mysteries remain unsolved during the novel - including whether her father was innocent of his crime - but as the book closes just after the end of World War One, it seems fitting that the confusion and cutting sense of loss felt in Europe seeps into Agnes' own life.

The Heart Specialist is a reflective account of the complexity of the human heart, both medically and emotionally. It was a gem I'm glad I picked up.