Pearls My Mother Wore

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” is the first sentence of Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy.  Anna Karenina was serialized in eight parts, originally published from 1873 – 1877; last night I finished reading part one.

From the first sentence, I was hooked.  Initially intimidated by the massive appearance of the novel (851 pages filled with the tiniest font), I’m finding that it’s far more readable than I had imagined.  The sentences are easily understood, and the scenes are readily envisioned.  The Russian names of each character are something of a puzzle, but I’m pleased with myself for sticking with them, and although they don’t yet roll off my tongue, I can say them.  There’s none of the convoluted syntax or labyrinthine plot lines that my prejudicial assumptions had me afraid of.  I assumed those old masterpieces were revered for their complexity, written in code that only the educated elite could decipher.  Wrong.  Anna Karenina is classic because of its timelessness and keen understanding of the human condition.  This is a book that can be picked up and put down in short reading spurts, which is good because I’m grabbing it every chance I get.

The story is told by an omniscient third-person narrator, but the point of view shifts depending on which of the characters is being described.  So far, each chapter depicts a short scene in which one character’s perspective is revealed.  As the reader, I see that particular character’s actions but I’m also privy to his or her privately held thoughts.

The first character to be introduced is not  Anna Karenina, but her brother, Prince Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky (“Stiva.”)  He’s been unfaithful to his wife and was caught.  His household consequently is in upheaval as his wife, Dolly, takes to her room and refuses to attend to any of her former wifely duties.  Like so many philanderers, Oblonsky loves his wife after a fashion but is less sorry for what he did, than for the disturbance to his daily routine it has caused.  Despite the distressing situation, Oblonsky prepares himself for his day with all the vigor and vanity of a prancing horse.  I couldn’t help but think of our recent presidential hopeful, John Edwards, when I pictured Oblonsky – all smiles, cologne, and good looks.

Next we meet Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, Oblonsky’s long-time friend who has arrived in Moscow from his country estate to ask Princess Ekaterina Aleksandrovna Shcherbatskaya, referred to as Kitty (Dolly’s sister) to marry him.  When it comes to the question of marriage,  Levin and Oblonsky are miles apart.  With Levin’s pining  for the 18-year old debutante, Kitty, juxtaposed to Oblonsky’s laissez faire attitude toward his wife, the two men both come across as tragically comic.

Levin’s rival for Kitty’s hand is Count Aleksei Kirillovich Vronsky.  Vronsky is a military officer from a highly esteemed family.  He’s young, suave, confident, and handsome, all qualities Levin is not.  Kitty refuses Levin’s proposal with the hopes for one from Vronsky.

Finally, Anna Karenina arrives on the scene to help mend her brother’s shattered marriage.  Anna is as contrasting to Dolly as Oblonsky is to Levin.  Anna is voluptuous, graceful, witty, worldly, and wise; she is magnetic in her beauty and draws all eyes to her when she enters a room.  Dolly on the other hand is used-up, her beauty sacrificed to her duties as wife and mother.  Oblonsky said of Dolly that she was “…a worn-out woman no longer young or good-looking, and in no way remarkable or interesting, merely a good mother,…”  Anna’s appealing nature becomes problematic when she attracts the ardor of Kitty’s once-suitor, Vronsky.

Along with the love machinations of the aforementioned aristocratic characters, there are peripheral stirrings of the Russian proletariat.  Sprinkled here and there are many servants with varying responsibilities within the homes and outside.  Oblonsky, a civil servant, paper-pusher with little power of conviction is willing to follow the majority, whatever they may be.   Levin’s brother, Nikolai, a resentful, consumptive alcoholic rants of revolution while abusing the woman he supposedly rescued from a whore house.  Near the end of Part One, some of Vronsky’s friends seem to be slumming it for style, mixing with lower company.  And then there is Anna’s husband back in Petersburg, Aleksei Aleksandrovich Karenin, a senior statesman who gives an inordinate amount of his day to his constituents.

So that’s how far I’ve gotten.  I’m looking forward to seeing what will happen in Part Two, and when I do, I’ll write about it.  Perhaps this description will pique your interest and you’ll consider reading Anna Karenina too.

Have a great week, and I’ll post again next Friday.

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