Now the subject of a major new film adaptation from director Joe Wright (Atonement, Pride and Prejudice), Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina is translated by award-winning duo Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky in Penguin Classics. Starring Keira Knightley (A Dangerous Method) as Anna Karenina, Jude Law (Sherlock Holmes) as her husband Alexei, Aaron Johnson (Nowhere Boy) as Count Vronsky, and also starring Matthew McFadyen, Andrea Riseborough and Kelly Macdonald, this dazzling production of Anna Karenina is adapted for the screen by legendary playwright Tom Stoppard. Anna Karenina seems to have everything - beauty, wealth, popularity and an adored son. But she feels that her life is empty until the moment she encounters the impetuous officer Count Vronsky. Their subsequent affair scandalizes society and family alike, and soon brings jealousy and bitterness in its wake. Contrasting with this tale of love and self-destruction is the vividly observed story of Konstantin Levin, a man striving to find contentment and meaning to his life - and also a self-portrait of Tolstoy himself. Acclaimed as the definitive English version of Tolstoy's masterpiece, this edition contains an introduction by Richard Pevear and a preface by John Bayley. Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910) spent his youth in wasteful idleness until 1851, when he travelled to the Caucasus and joined the army, fighting in the Crimean war. After marrying in 1862, Tolstoy settled down, managing his estates and writing two of his best-known novels, War and Peace (1869) and Anna Karenina (1878). A Confession (1879-82) marked a spiritual crisis in his life, and in 1901 he was excommunicated by the Russian Holy Synod. 'William Faulkner, it's said, was once asked to name the three best novels ever. He replied: "Anna Karenina, Anna Karenina, Anna Karenina." If you don't recall why, rush to buy a fine new translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky' Boyd Tonkin, Independent
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About the Author
Leo Tolstoy was born in 1828 in the Tula province. He studied at the University of Kazan, then led a life of pleasure until 1851 when he joined an artillery regiment in the Caucasus. He established his reputation as a writer with The Sebastopol Sketches (1855-6). After a period in St Petersburg and abroad, he married, had thirteen children, managed his vast estates in the Volga Steppes and wrote War and Peace (1869) and Anna Karenina (1877). A Confession (1879-82) marked a spiritual crisis in his life, and in 1901 he was excommuincated by the Russian Holy Synod. He died in 1910, in the course of a dramatic flight from home, at the railway station of Astapovo.
Date of Birth:September 9, 1828
Date of Death:November 20, 1910
Place of Birth:Tula Province, Russia
Place of Death:Astapovo, Russia
Education:Privately educated by French and German tutors; attended the University of Kazan, 1844-47
Read an Excerpt
All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
All was confusion in the Oblonskys' house. The wife had found out that the husband was having an affair with their former French governess, and had announced to the husband that she could not live in the same house with him. This situation had continued for three days now, and was painfully felt by the couple themselves, as well as by all the members of the family and household. They felt that there was no sense in their living together and that people who meet accidentally at any inn have more connection with each other than they, the members of the family and household of the Oblonskys. The wife would not leave her rooms, the husband was away for the third day. The children were running all over the house as if lost; the English governess quarrelled with the housekeeper and wrote a note to a friend, asking her to find her a new place; the cook had already left the premises the day before, at dinner-time; the kitchen-maid and coachman had given notice.
On the third day after the quarrel, Prince Stepan Arkadyich Oblonsky Stiva, as he was called in society woke up at his usual hour, that is, at eight o'clock in the morning, not in his wife's bedroom but in his study, on a morocco sofa. He rolled his full, well-tended body over on the springs of the sofa, as if wishing to fall asleep again for a long time, tightly hugged the pillow from the other side and pressed his cheek to it; but suddenly he gave a start, sat up on the sofa and opened his eyes.
'Yes, yes, how did it go?' he thought, recalling his dream. 'How did it go? Yes! Alabin was giving a dinner in Darmstadt no, not in Darmstadt but something American. Yes, but this Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin was giving a dinner on glass tables, yes and the tables were singing Il mio tesoro, only it wasn't Il mio tesoro but something better, and there were some little carafes, which were also women,' he recalled.
Stepan Arkadyich's eyes glittered merrily, and he fell to thinking with a smile. 'Yes, it was nice, very nice. There were many other excellent things there, but one can't say it in words, or even put it into waking thoughts.' And, noticing a strip of light that had broken through the side of one of the heavy blinds, he cheerfully dropped his feet from the sofa, felt for the slippers trimmed with gold morocco that his wife had embroidered for him (a present for last year's birthday), and, following a nine-year-old habit, without getting up, reached his hand out to the place where his dressing gown hung in the bedroom. And here he suddenly remembered how and why he was sleeping not in his wife's bedroom but in his study: the smile vanished from his face, and he knitted his brows.
'Oh, oh, oh! Ohh! ...' he moaned, remembering all that had taken place. And in his imagination he again pictured all the details of his quarrel with his wife, all the hopelessness of his position and, most painful of all, his own guilt.
'No, she won't forgive me and can't forgive me! And the most terrible thing is that I'm the guilty one in it all guilty, and yet not guilty. That's the whole drama,' he thought. 'Oh, oh, oh!' he murmured with despair, recalling what were for him the most painful impressions of this quarrel.
Worst of all had been that first moment when, coming back from the theatre, cheerful and content, holding a huge pear for his wife, he had not found her in the drawing room; to his surprise, he had not found her in the study either, and had finally seen her in the bedroom with the unfortunate, all-revealing note in her hand.
She this eternally preoccupied and bustling and, as he thought, none-too-bright Dolly was sitting motionless, the note in her hand, looking at him with an expression of horror, despair and wrath.
'What is this? this?' she asked, pointing to the note.
And, in recalling it, as often happens, Stepan Arkadyich was tormented not so much by the event itself as by the way he had responded to these words from his wife.
What had happened to him at that moment was what happens to people when they are unexpectedly caught in something very shameful. He had not managed to prepare his face for the position he found himself in with regard to his wife now that his guilt had been revealed. Instead of being offended, of denying, justifying, asking forgiveness, even remaining indifferent any of which would have been better than what he did! his face quite involuntarily ('reflexes of the brain', thought Stepan Arkadyich, who liked physiology) smiled all at once its habitual, kind and therefore stupid smile.
That stupid smile he could not forgive himself. Seeing that smile, Dolly had winced as if from physical pain, burst with her typical vehemence into a torrent of cruel words, and rushed from the room. Since then she had refused to see her husband.
'That stupid smile is to blame for it all,' thought Stepan Arkadyich.
'But what to do, then? What to do?' he kept saying despairingly to himself, and could find no answer.
Stepan Arkadyich was a truthful man concerning his own self. He could not deceive himself into believing that he repented of his behaviour. He could not now be repentant that he, a thirty-four-year-old, handsome, amorous man, did not feel amorous with his wife, the mother of five living and two dead children, who was only a year younger than he. He repented only that he had not managed to conceal things better from her. But he felt all the gravity of his situation, and pitied his wife, his children and himself. Perhaps he would have managed to hide his sins better from his wife had he anticipated that the news would have such an effect on her. He had never thought the question over clearly, but vaguely imagined that his wife had long suspected him of being unfaithful to her and was looking the other way. It even seemed to him that she, 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. It turned out to be quite the opposite.
'Ah, terrible! Ay, ay, ay! terrible!' Stepan Arkadyich repeated to himself and could come up with nothing. 'And how nice it all was before that, what a nice life we had! She was content, happy with the children, I didn't hinder her in anything, left her to fuss over them and the household however she liked. True, it's not nice that she used to be a governess in our house. Not nice! There's something trivial, banal, in courting one's own governess. But what a governess!' (He vividly recalled Mlle Roland's dark, roguish eyes and her smile.) 'But while she was in our house, I never allowed myself anything. And the worst of it is that she's already ... It all had to happen at once! Ay, ay, ay! But what to do, what to do?'
There was no answer, except the general answer life gives to all the most complex and insoluble questions. That answer is: one must live for the needs of the day, in other words, become oblivious. To become oblivious in dreams was impossible now, at least till night-time; it was impossible to return to that music sung by carafe-women; and so one had to become oblivious in the dream of life.
'We'll see later on,' Stepan Arkadyich said to himself and, getting up, he put on his grey dressing gown with the light-blue silk lining, threw the tasselled cord into a knot, and, drawing a goodly amount of air into the broad box of his chest, went up to the window with the customary brisk step of his splayed feet, which so easily carried his full body, raised the blind and rang loudly. In response to the bell his old friend, the valet Matvei, came at once, bringing clothes, boots, and a telegram. Behind Matvei came the barber with the shaving things.
'Any papers from the office?' Stepan Arkadyich asked, taking the telegram and sitting down in front of the mirror.
'On the table,' Matvei replied, glancing inquiringly, with sympathy, at his master, and, after waiting a little, he added with a sly smile: 'Someone came from the owner of the livery stable.'
Stepan Arkadyich said nothing in reply and only glanced at Matvei in the mirror; from their eyes, which met in the mirror, one could see how well they understood each other. Stepan Arkadyich's eyes seemed to ask: 'Why are you saying that? as if you didn't know?'
Matvei put his hands in his jacket pockets, thrust one foot out and looked at his master silently, good-naturedly, with a slight smile.
'I told them to come next Sunday and till then not to trouble you or themselves needlessly.' He uttered an obviously prepared phrase.
Stepan Arkadyich understood that Matvei wanted to joke and attract attention to himself. Tearing open the telegram, he read it, guessing at the right sense of the words, which were garbled as usual, and his face brightened.
'Matvei, my sister Anna Arkadyevna is coming tomorrow,' he said, stopping for a moment the glossy, plump little hand of the barber, who was clearing a pink path between his long, curly side-whiskers.
'Thank God,' said Matvei, showing by this answer that he understood the significance of this arrival in the same way as his master, that is, that Anna Arkadyevna, Stepan Arkadyich's beloved sister, might contribute to the reconciliation of husband and wife.
'Alone or with her spouse?' asked Matvei.
Stepan Arkadyich, unable to speak because the barber was occupied with his upper lip, raised one finger. Matvei nodded in the mirror.
'Alone. Shall I prepare the rooms upstairs?'
'Tell Darya Alexandrovna, wherever she decides.'
'Darya Alexandrovna?' Matvei repeated, as if in doubt.
'Yes, tell her. And here, take the telegram, let me know what she says.'
'Testing her out,' Matvei understood, but he said only: 'Very well, sir.'
Stepan Arkadyich was already washed and combed and was about to start dressing, when Matvei, stepping slowly over the soft rug in his creaking boots, telegram in hand, came back into the room. The barber was no longer there.
'Darya Alexandrovna told me to inform you that she is leaving. Let him do as he that is, you pleases,' he said, laughing with his eyes only, and, putting his hands in his pockets and cocking his head to one side, he looked fixedly at his master.
Stepan Arkadyich said nothing. Then a kind and somewhat pathetic smile appeared on his handsome face.
'Eh? Matvei?' he said, shaking his head.
'Never mind, sir, it'll shape up,' said Matvei.
'That's right, sir.'
'You think so? Who's there?' Stepan Arkadyich asked, hearing the rustle of a woman's dress outside the door.
'It's me, sir,' said a firm and pleasant female voice, and through the door peeked the stern, pock-marked face of Matryona Filimonovna, the nanny.
'What is it, Matryosha?' Stepan Arkadyich asked, going out of the door to her.
Although Stepan Arkadyich was roundly guilty before his wife and felt it himself, almost everyone in the house, even the nanny, Darya Alexandrovna's chief friend, was on his side.
'Well, what is it?' he said dejectedly.
'You should go to her, sir, apologize again. Maybe God will help. She's suffering very much, it's a pity to see, and everything in the house has gone topsy-turvy. The children should be pitied. Apologize, sir. No help for it! After the dance, you must pay the ...'
'But she won't receive me ...'
'Still, you do your part. God is merciful, pray to God, sir, pray to God.'
'Well, all right, go now,' said Stepan Arkadyich, suddenly blushing. 'Let's get me dressed.' He turned to Matvei and resolutely threw off his dressing gown.
Matvei was already holding the shirt like a horse collar, blowing away something invisible, and with obvious pleasure he clothed the pampered body of his master in it.
After dressing, Stepan Arkadyich sprayed himself with scent, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, put cigarettes, wallet, matches, a watch with a double chain and seals into his pockets with an accustomed gesture, and, having shaken out his handkerchief, feeling himself clean, fragrant, healthy, and physically cheerful despite his misfortune, went out, springing lightly at each step, to the dining room, where coffee was already waiting for him, and, next to the coffee, letters and papers from the office.
He sat down and read the letters. One was very unpleasant from a merchant who was buying a wood on his wife's estate. This wood had to be sold; but now, before his reconciliation with his wife, it was out of the question. The most unpleasant thing here was that it mixed financial interests into the impending matter of their reconciliation. And the thought that he might be guided by those interests, that he might seek a reconciliation with his wife in order to sell the wood, was offensive to him.
Having finished the letters, Stepan Arkadyich drew the office papers to him, quickly leafed through two files, made a few marks with a big pencil, then pushed the files away and started on his coffee. Over coffee he unfolded the still damp morning newspaper and began to read it.
Stepan Arkadyich subscribed to and read a liberal newspaper, not an extreme one, but one with the tendency to which the majority held. And though neither science, nor art, nor politics itself interested him, he firmly held the same views on all these subjects as the majority and his newspaper did, and changed them only when the majority did, or, rather, he did not change them, but they themselves changed imperceptibly in him.
Stepan Arkadyich chose neither his tendency nor his views, but these tendencies and views came to him themselves, just as he did not choose the shape of a hat or a frock coat, but bought those that were in fashion. And for him, who lived in a certain circle, and who required some mental activity such as usually develops with maturity, having views was as necessary as having a hat. If there was a reason why he preferred the liberal tendency to the conservative one (also held to by many in his circle), it was not because he found the liberal tendency more sensible, but because it more closely suited his manner of life. The liberal party said that everything was bad in Russia, and indeed Stepan Arkadyich had many debts and decidedly too little money. The liberal party said that marriage was an obsolete institution and was in need of reform, and indeed family life gave Stepan Arkadyich little pleasure and forced him to lie and pretend, which was so contrary to his nature. The liberal party said, or, rather, implied, that religion was just a bridle for the barbarous part of the population, and indeed Stepan Arkadyich could not even stand through a short prayer service without aching feet and could not grasp the point of all these fearsome and high-flown words about the other world, when life in this one could be so merry. At the same time, Stepan Arkadyich, who liked a merry joke, sometimes took pleasure in startling some simple soul by saying that if you want to pride yourself on your lineage, why stop at Rurik and renounce your first progenitor the ape? And so the liberal tendency became a habit with Stepan Arkadyich, and he liked his newspaper, as he liked a cigar after dinner, for the slight haze it produced in his head. He read the leading article, which explained that in our time it was quite needless to raise the cry that radicalism was threatening to swallow up all the conservative elements, and that it was the government's duty to take measures to crush the hydra of revolution; that, on the contrary, 'in our opinion, the danger lies not in the imaginary hydra of revolution, but in a stubborn traditionalism that impedes progress', and so on. He also read yet another article, a financial one, in which mention was made of Bentham and Mill and fine barbs were shot at the ministry. With his peculiar quickness of perception he understood the meaning of each barb: by whom, and against whom, and on what occasion it had been aimed, and this, as always, gave him a certain pleasure. But today this pleasure was poisoned by the recollection of Matryona Filimonovna's advice, and of the unhappy situation at home. He also read about Count Beust, who was rumoured to have gone to Wiesbaden, and about the end of grey hair, and about the sale of a light carriage, and a young person's offer of her services; but this information did not, as formerly, give him a quiet, ironic pleasure.
Having finished the newspaper, a second cup of coffee, and a kalatch with butter, he got up, brushed the crumbs from his waistcoat and, expanding his broad chest, smiled joyfully, not because there was anything especially pleasant in his heart the smile was evoked by good digestion.
But this joyful smile at once reminded him of everything, and he turned pensive.
Two children's voices (Stepan Arkadyich recognized the voices of Grisha, the youngest boy, and Tanya, the eldest girl) were heard outside the door. They were pulling something and tipped it over.
'I told you not to put passengers on the roof,' the girl shouted in English. 'Now pick it up!'
'All is confusion,' thought Stepan Arkadyich. 'Now the children are running around on their own.' And, going to the door, he called them. They abandoned the box that stood for a train and came to their father.
The girl, her father's favourite, ran in boldly, embraced him, and hung laughing on his neck, delighting, as always, in the familiar smell of scent coming from his side-whiskers. Kissing him finally on the face, which was red from bending down and radiant with tenderness, the girl unclasped her hands and was going to run out again, but her father held her back.
'How's mama?' he asked, his hand stroking his daughter's smooth, tender neck. 'Good morning,' he said, smiling to the boy who greeted him.
He was aware that he loved the boy less, and always tried to be fair; but the boy felt it and did not respond with a smile to the cold smile of his father.
'Mama? Mama's up,' the girl replied.
Stepan Arkadyich sighed. 'That means again she didn't sleep all night,' he thought.
'And is she cheerful?'
The girl knew that there had been a quarrel between her father and mother, and that her mother could not be cheerful, and that her father ought to know it, and that he was shamming when he asked about it so lightly. And she blushed for him. He understood it at once and also blushed.
'I don't know,' she said. 'She told us not to study, but to go for a walk to grandma's with Miss Hull.'
'Well, go then, my Tanchurochka. Ah, yes, wait,' he said, still holding her back and stroking her tender little hand.
He took a box of sweets from the mantelpiece, where he had put it yesterday, and gave her two, picking her favourites, a chocolate and a cream.
'For Grisha?' the girl said, pointing to the chocolate.
'Yes, yes.' And stroking her little shoulder once more, he kissed her on the nape of the neck and let her go.
'The carriage is ready,' said Matvei. 'And there's a woman with a petition to see you,' he added.
'Has she been here long?' asked Stepan Arkadyich.
'Half an hour or so.'
'How often must I tell you to let me know at once!'
'I had to give you time for your coffee at least,' Matvei said in that friendly-rude tone at which it was impossible to be angry.
'Well, quickly send her in,' said Oblonsky, wincing with vexation.
The woman, Mrs Kalinin, a staff captain's wife, was petitioning for something impossible and senseless; but Stepan Arkadyich, as was his custom, sat her down, heard her out attentively without interrupting, and gave her detailed advice on whom to address and how, and even wrote, briskly and fluently, in his large, sprawling, handsome and clear handwriting, a little note to the person who could be of help to her. Having dismissed the captain's wife, Stepan Arkadyich picked up his hat and paused, wondering whether he had forgotten anything. It turned out that he had forgotten nothing, except what he had wanted to forget his wife.
'Ah, yes!' He hung his head, and his handsome face assumed a wistful expression. 'Shall I go or not?' he said to himself. And his inner voice told him that he should not go, that there could be nothing here but falseness, that to rectify, to repair, their relations was impossible, because it was impossible to make her attractive and arousing of love again or to make him an old man incapable of love. Nothing could come of it now but falseness and deceit, and falseness and deceit were contrary to his nature.
'But at some point I'll have to; it can't remain like this,' he said, trying to pluck up his courage. He squared his shoulders, took out a cigarette, lit it, took two puffs, threw it into the mother-of-pearl ashtray, walked with quick steps across the gloomy drawing room and opened the other door, to his wife's bedroom.
Table of Contents
Note on the Text and Translation
A Chronology of Leo Tolstoy
Principal Characters and Guide to Pronunciation
Reading Group Guide
1. When Anna Karenina was published, critics accused Tolstoy of writing a novel with too many characters, too complex a story line, and too many details. Henry James called Tolstoy's works "baggy monsters." In response, Tolstoy wrote of Anna Karenina "I am very proud of its architecture-its vaults are joined so that one cannot even notice where the keystone is." What do you make of Tolstoy's use of detail? Does it make for a more "realistic" novel?
2. The first line of Anna Karenina, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, " can be interpreted a number of ways. What do you think Tolstoy means by this?
3. In your opinion, how well does Tolstoy, as a male writer, capture the perspectives of his female characters? Do you think Anna Karenina is the most appropriate title for the book? Is Tolstoy more critical of Anna for her adultery than he is of Oblonsky or of Vronsky?
4. What role does religion play in the novel? Compare Levin's spiritual state of mind at the beginning and the end of the novel. What parallels can you draw between Levin's search for happiness and Anna's descent into despair?
5. Why is it significant that Karenina lives in St. Petersburg, Oblonsky in Moscow, and Levin in the country? How are Moscow and St. Petersburg described by Tolstoy? What conclusions can you draw about the value assigned to place in the novel?
6. What are the different kinds of love that Anna, Vronsky, Levin, Kitty, Stiva, and Dolly seek? How do their desires change throughout the novel?
7. How do the ideals of love and marriage come into conflict inAnna Karenina? Using examples from the novel, what qualities do you think seem to make for a successful marriage? According to Tolstoy, is it more important to find love at all costs or to uphold the sanctity of marriage, even if it is a loveless one?
8. Ultimately, do you think Anna Karenina is a tragic novel or a hopeful one?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Anna's story would probably have been very enjoyable on its own, but it kept being hi-jacked by author's mouthpiece Levin, with his constant ruminations about farming, serfs, religion.....well, pretty much anything Tolstoy felt like mouthing off about. These rather tedious sections spoiled the book for me.The ony saving grace, from Levin's point of view, was that he did raise the question with a priest that I have always wanted to raise with one, and never quite dared: the question of so many different religions in the world, and the fact that they can't all be right. The answer was interesting, and though it didn't turn me into a born-again Christian as was the intention, it has had an effect on my attitudes to religion and spirituality. One extra star for that bit of dialogue!
To be quite honest, I didn't really like the eponymous heroine, finding her less sympathetic than her reputation had led me to believe. Her desire for the rather repulsive Vronsky can only be explained by the perennial "chicks dig bad boys". Sadly (for me as a reader), Anna's famous suicide was almost anti-climactic; indeed, I am sad that I did not love her more so than sad about her romantic entanglements and confusion. I found myself more drawn to the story of Levin and the proto-communist ideals that emerge through Tolstoy's examination of rural life and its conflicts with largely urban politics. Nevertheless, this is a beautifully written novel with finely drawn characters that really does prove why Tolstoy is one of the greats.
A very good and easy book to read. Chapters our short and the language simple anyone with basic English should be able to read this book. Lots of different themes the work it's way through the pages.
Easily my favorite book of all time. I would have read it once again by now, but it's the kind of book you have to brace yourself to read, it's so long. Something about Russia that just fascinates me! I don't really know how else to review this book without raving. It's simply beautiful.
The sheer size of this work (this edition, 819 pages!) put me off reading it for so long, but once I started it, it was SO easy to read that I mentally scolded myself for waiting until now to read it. I HIGHLY recommend this book - and enjoyed every second of my reading experience with it.The story is well known, so I won't repeat it here. Tolstoy examines various ideas within the pages of this novel. For me, though, the clearest was that of seeking meaning in one's life within the framework and context of relationships. Every character has in common that he or she is seeking something - and they're not sure what they want out of life. In some cases, what they discover brings tragedy; in others, ruin, yet in others, complete happiness. Maybe I'm all wet on this (I don't claim to be a professional analyst or reviewer), but I saw this theme repeating itself over and over through each one of the main characters. The story follows the fortunes and misfortunes of three families whose lives are interconnected - the Oblonskys, the Karenins and the Levins. It is also a good look at Russian "society" in the 1870s, as well as the myriad currents of political, philosophical, religious and popular notions extant at the time.Anna Karenina is a wonderful book; tragic, yes, but in many ways uplifting and redeeming. I would definitely recommend it if you have a little extra time; one of the better books I've read this year.
I read this book in my early twenties, reading aloud with my late-husband. I loved the story and the sharing. Now I am reading it again, loving every minute with my old, Russian friends. It is a classic for good reasons. Anna's life and her despairs resonated a century ago, and resonate still.
Tolstoy wrote a brilliant piece of work here, in my opinion. Allthough Anna Karenina is a big fat book, I didn't feel bored once. I swear that's true. Yes, it is slow during some parts, but hey, who says that's a bad thing? I can appreciate that. I love slow. I love details, too.Contains SPOILERS: All of this felt too real. The characters, the various situations they were in, etc etc. Anna's character...well,I was kind of 'disappointed' with her. I mean, at the beginning of the book she seemed to me like an intelligent, mature, admirable woman but as the story progressed I realized she wasn't any of that. I even asked myself if what she felt for Vronski could be called of love. I don't think so, it seemed more like an obsession. She was way too selfish, in my opinion. Very, very selfish.She wanted everything in her life to be perfect, which just isn't, by any means, possible. Since she couldn't have perfection, she killed herself. Wait, what? Anna, you childish woman! Always assuming and assuming. Poor Vronski...and poor Karenine.
Anna Karenina is very character-driven. Not much happens, but Tolstoy takes the reader into the minds of the different characters. Based on the title, I assumed that most of the book would revolve around Anna herself, but Levin is an equally important character. The beauty of this novel, for me, is in the juxtaposition of Levin and Anna's lives. Levin lives a simple life out in the country, while Anna is the wife of a prominent man in society who is many years older than Anna. They each have their share of heartache (some self-inflicted), but Tolstoy shows how their personal choices affect the outcome of their lives.I loved Levin. It was so easy for me to relate to him, which is kind of sad because I share some of his negative traits. He and I are both worriers and over-thinkers (it is super annoying--just ask my husband). He is so compassionate and concerned about others. Levin is also quick to forgive. This is in stark contrast to Anna who is selfish and vengeful.I know many people who hate this book because of Anna. I agree; she is despicable. This didn't ruin the book for me though because I felt this was Tolstoy's point. I don't think he meant for the reader to sympathize with Anna, but set her up as an example of what happens when you fill your life with selfishness and hatred. Her relationship with Vronksy could never work. They were both only thinking of themselves, and they didn't trust each other. Compare this to Levin and his wife. Their relationship flourished, and they found happiness because of the love and respect they showed each other.I would be lying if I said that I loved all of this book. The farming chapters, the election chapters, and the political discussions were a little dry. Overall, I really enjoyed reading Anna Karenina. Is it one of my all-time favorite books? No. It might be one of my favorites this year, but we'll have to wait and see. Is this book for everyone? Probably not. Because it is more of a character study, I can see many people finding too slow. It's just a matter of taste. If you've been wanting to read it, give it a try. It isn't as scary as it seems.
A stunning work of literature, especially good if you can find a group or guide to read along with. Occasionally feels like it should have ended 300 pages earlier, but thats sort of the point from what I've come to understand.
I probably wouldn't have been very interested in reading Anna Karenina, because I had a preconceived idea of Tolstoy's works due to horror stories of people who had tried to read War and Peace.In "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" one of the characters walks around with the book Anna Karenina all the time. I enjoyed that character, and figured I'd attempt to read it myself.It was like nothing I've ever read before. The characters and story were rich and complex and it was a romantic story that stood the test of time. I still haven't had the guts to read War and Peace, but maybe someday I'll check it out :)
I was apprehensive about reading this book. I have no idea why but I was. I'd had this book on my shelves for 5 years and a friend said they had a copy - why didn't we read it together. So we did. It helped knowing someone was reading it with me, however I didn't need it as support in the end but I thoroughly enjoyed our discussions. This book is marvellous and I can't believe I have left it so long to read it. I would even consider reading it again at some point and I would love to watch a film version of it. It was marvellous! I think the length was what initially put me off, plus it's a 'classic' and aren't they meant to be boring and not much fun? Not this one. It is a good job though that Tolstoy is such a good writer though, as the print is very challenging - it's quite condensed, making an already lengthy novel seem even more difficult. Enough is known about this novel, I think, to not go into the plot but in case you don't know about it; there is a helpful list of characters at the front of the novel. Combine this with an excellent notes section at the back and you are in for a compelling read.There were a few sections where I was itching for something else to happen, I wasn't as interested in the farming sections as some might be but they were equally as well written. His description of the characters is excellent, they are so vividly portrayed that they are they right in front of you. Cleverly written, with hidden details that you have to search for this novel will not disappoint. I will definitely go on to read more Tolstoy, preferrably with the same translators as I feel this had a huge impact on my enjoyment.I enjoyed doing a little research as I was reading - I did find the Oprah site useful for futher information as it had been one of her reading group reads. It was interesting to see how much of Tolstoy himself and his life appears in the plot and characters.
This book just didn't click for me, I couldn't feel for the characters, I need to read it again to see if I missed something
What can I say that will do this novel justice? - Initially I was daunted and intimidated at the prospect of reading this. Once I started, I found it very hard to put down. Tolstoy seems to get into people's heads to the extent that it is possible to empathise with the least attractive characters (I think Anna Karenina's husband is a good example of this). This is an age old story of a loveless marriage and a subsequent doomed love affair, culminating in tragedy. Comparable with Mme Bovary and Tess of the D'Urbevilles as a novel by a man which is sympathetic to the unequal position of women in Victorian society.