Levin’s visit to Anna has a striking effect on him, on Anna and on Kitty. You may choose to reflect on her power to impress people. Or you might examine her portrait. Finally, Tolstoi uses as he had in War in Peace his last pages to tell the reader what he feels he has not adequately conveyed in his novel. Is his message, much like Dostoevsky’s, too important to be left to fiction?
I think that the message of Anna Karenina is too personal (at least to Tolstoy) to be given fully over to more analytical disciplines like philosophy or the social sciences, mostly because what he has to say does not necessarily make sense rationally. There a great many outs Anna and Vronsky could have taken to secure a modicum of happiness that were ‘rational,’ but they would have been pursued by the seemingly irrational laws of the social world in Russia. Their anxiety of the ‘uncertainty’ of their situation nicely compliments their desire for a socially sanctioned form of ‘certainty,’ i.e. that their relationship is recognized by others as legitimate. They do not get this recognition.
A social scientist could tell you that it is only the world they live in, but the world we live in today would be far more tolerant of Anna’s affair. Even the Russia of Tolstoy was moving in a direction that would ultimately dismantle the social code of the Russian aristocracy and turn it on its head. Often, people record what they fear losing to the passing of time and arrival of change. Russia is and was capable of change, and it is most likely a fear of this that informs Tolstoy’s narrative decisions.
Taken in this regard, Anna Karenina is a human account of what happens when we cross society’s boundaries. Tolstoy will not allow Anna to succeed, because he does not want her to – a sociologist, on the other hand, might see elements in 1870’s Russia that allow alternatives. So Tolstoy is therefore making a moral argument in human terms, rather than an intellectual argument. He’s more interested in showing us how we irrationally hurt one another rather than how we can be better. I’m not sure that Tolstoy thinks we can ‘be better,’ at least not in the way sociologists of his day might have claimed.
Tolstoy devotes a lot of energy to portraying Anna as an outsize character, far more charismatic than she could possibly be. Everyone loves her and she always seems to be having fun, but in reality she rarely is. Seemingly popularity comes at a price here. Anna is miserable, while the unremarkable Levin gets the happy ending. In fact, there seems almost to be a continuum of happiness, from the simple peasants to the wretched Karenins. Tolstoy seems to be telling us to keep our ambitions humble and our expectations low.
As far as the ending, I found it artificial, much like the ending of Crime and Punishment. I think Tolstoy and Dostoevsky try too hard to work deep spiritual and moral lessons into their novels, and moreover the timeline of Levin’s sudden conversion to blissful faith seemed unrealistic. Someone who has been wrestling with deep questions all his life is unlikely to find an answer so suddenly. I think these authors went a little too far with the idea that a novel should be morally instructive. After a point it just becomes didactic and implausible.
People like to assign overarching roles to things. If you look at a chair, it only has a finite amount of uses. One can make almost quite an extensive list: to sit in it, stand on it, put something on it, stack it on another chair; however, the roles are defined by what the chair physically is. Literature however, occupies a space on our world that transcends physical limits. Sure, a book can be different page lengths, different fonts, but what really makes books and literature special is the thought behind and derived from it, occupying your mind, something intangible. Yet, critics still want to assign a role to literature, is it supposed to be meaningful or beautiful? Is what you personally derive from the book or what the author actually meant more important? What makes a specific piece of literature special? The problem is, what makes literature special, is this undefined role.
So can something really ever be too important to be left to fiction? Honestly, Tolstoy’s religious message at the end of the book leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Throughout Anna Karenina, Levin remained the one person, with whom I felt some connection. I would slog through pages and pages, of what I considered stupid melodrama, and then Levin, with his quiet demeanor and intelligent cynicism, would appear as a breath of fresh air. I consider myself agnostic and with his religious revelation, my connection with Levin was a cut at the very end, almost like when your football team tries to make a come back but misses that last, game-winning field goal. Despite, my resentment of Tolstoy’s revelation, I still do not believe that there is any manifestation more appropriate for moral questions such as this one than fiction and literature in general. The very undefined nature of literature parallels the undefined nature of these questions. Literature represents these quandaries in a way that makes the reader attempt to probe and evaluate them for himself. Without this analysis, these moral questions are useless and maybe don’t even exist. Therefore, I don’t believe these questions can exist in any form outside of literature, so the better question would be if not left to fiction, where else?
When Levin is talking with Anna, he remarks how easy conversation is with her, especially compared to the awkward conversations he had with the rest of society earlier that day. I think it is an interesting juxtaposition of Anna’s vastly superior social graces against a society that rejects her immoral situation. Levin understands from Anna’s eyes and manners that she values his opinion and completely understands him (699) – that is one good listener! I think the most remarkable aspect of Anna’s power to impress people is to awe them with her beauty and energy and affirm their own pride at the same time, which comes through with Levin. Most people resent beauty and social grace to some degree, but Anna is able to impress upon people her magnificence as she allows them to feel comfortable with themselves and with her. Levin observes Anna’s intelligence, beauty, and grace, but is not intimidated or threatened in any way; he feels as if he has known her from childhood. Anna is more than just a vivacious beauty; she dazzles everyone around her while keeping them comfortable. She knows she has this power, and I think it is a huge part of her struggle with Vronsky. Anna later reflects that she intentionally tried to ensnare Levin, that if she could make a married man like him love her, then she couldn’t understand how she wasn’t able to hold onto Vronsky. Anna’s power to impress, and her awareness of it, lead to her undoing.
Anna’s portrait done by Mikhailov immediately catches Levin’s attention and makes quite an impression on him. He feels that the portrait is a woman with a fully fleshed out personality, whose beauty is beyond compare. It is interesting that when Levin finally meets Anna he recognizes her as the woman in the portrait, but feels that her beauty is less dazzling than it is in the portrait. Levin notices “some new attractiveness that was not in the portrait”(pg. 697). Mikhailov as a character is a commentary on art in general. His portrait shows the ability of art to represent something or someone that seems real. However, there are slight discrepancies due to an artist’s personal touch that are noticeable. Art seems to take on a life of its own that is in some way separate from what the artist intended.
I think Tolstoy’s message at the end is important, but I cannot quite fully understand Levin’s revelation. It is so sudden and mysterious that I cannot really relate to it because I have never experienced something like that. Tolstoy says that true faith is the only thing that makes life meaningful, and that God shows himself to different people in different ways. I’m not really sure what I believe in, but I know that all faiths claim to be the one true faith. The sentiment of all faiths being equivalent is a nice one. However, all faiths claim different things and deny that other religions could be true. The faith that Levin finds and the contentment it brings contrasts with how other people in the novel choose to live their lives. His faith that accepts all of mankind as it is and rejoices at life contrasts with the piety, hypocrisy and arrogance of Lydia Ivanovna. Unpretentious and sincere faith is the only thing that leads to a happy and full life in the end. Though Anna is such a magnificent character, her quest for love is not able to fulfill her in the way that faith can.
If one is going to ask whether a message is too important to be left to fiction, one must first assume that the intent of the author fosters importance. I’d argue that it is whatever message a reader or a group of leaders derives from the book, whether or not that is in line with the original authorial intent, is the most important. It was more interesting for me to analyze why Tolstoi portrayed Anna how he did, and why he chose to portray her the way he did over his intended message.
In his portrayal of Anna in Part Eight, he puts negative assessments of her character in the mouths of old countess: “[Anna] ended as such a woman should have ended. Even the death she chose was mean and low” (778). Yet Tolstoi paints the reader a picture of the other character reflecting characteristics of Anna. He shows Dolly as someone who came to be “in despair” a wife who “hated her husband, despised him, pitied him, resolved to divorce him, to refuse him, but ended by agreeing to sell part of her estate” (785). Just as Anna earlier hated her husband, yet at first vacillated between wanting to leave him or stay.
Sorry — I forgot to post half my post. Disregard the first one.
If one is going to ask whether a message is too important to be left to fiction, one must first assume that the intent of the author fosters importance. I’d argue that it is whatever message a reader or a group of leaders derives from the book, whether or not that is in line with the original authorial intent, is the most important. It was more interesting for me to analyze why Tolstoi portrayed Anna how he did, and why he chose to portray her the way he did over his intended message.
In his portrayal of Anna in Part Eight, he puts negative assessments of her character into the mouth of old countess: “[Anna] ended as such a woman should have ended. Even the death she chose was mean and low” (778). Yet Tolstoi paints the reader a picture of the other characters reflecting characteristics of Anna. He shows Dolly as someone who came to be “in despair” a wife who “hated her husband, despised him, pitied him, resolved to divorce him, to refuse him, but ended by agreeing to sell part of her estate” (785). Just as Anna earlier hated her husband, yet at first vacillated between wanting to leave him or stay.
Even Anna’s suicide is reflected in the character most like Tolstoi himself, Levin. He becomes obsessed in his pursuit of truth through Christianity (just as Anna becomes obsessed in her jealousy). Tolstoi even tells us “Levin was several times so close to suicide that he hid a rope lest he hang himself with it” (789). Thus Tolstoi, even after his damning portrait of Anna in Part Seven, redeems her by putting her traits into other main characters in Part Eight.
<3 Bare Bear
The question of whether or not Tolstoy’s message is too important to be left to fiction seems to be irrelevant, because the author himself chose to answer it. He chose to convey his message through fiction. Even the epilogue is fiction, although it can be agreed that it is much more of a direct message than most other fiction. I think the real question should be whether or not Tolstoy thought his message could only be conveyed through fiction. Is that the only medium through which he thought we could really understand what he had to say? I don’t know. His message does not seem to be anything new, but it does come across as quite heartfelt. Through the use of fiction, Tolstoy develops an almost personal bond between the characters and the reader, and uses this bond to convey his message on a deeper level than is common. I think his message is that life can be rather terrible, so we must strive to create good in the world and not let ourselves be dragged under a train of despair. This message is not revolutionary, or even novel, but Tolstoy imparts it on a much more emotional level than would be possible without fiction. I think that fiction was absolutely necessary for Tolstoy’s message, but that his message wasn’t really very important.
Is his message, much like Dostoevsky’s, too important to be left to fiction?
It is my opinion that no message is “too important” to be left to fiction. “Anna Karenina”, like so much of the great literature is a fictional tale with larger meanings and truth regarding human nature and philosophy. By discussing issues like the existence of God or the value of a single human life through relatable and interesting characters with human interests and emotions, Tolstoy is able to reach a much larger audience. While it may be difficult for an average citizen to understand the meaning of Virgil’s “Aeneid” or John Locke’s “Two Treatises of Civil Government”, it is conceivable that most people will understand and even relate to Levin’s struggle with his own moral imperfections or Sergei’s decision to give up his life for a cause in far-off Serbia.
Of course, Tolstoy does leave Anna’s somewhat less philosophically deep story behind in the end of the novel. Maybe by doing this he was attempting to show what his true purpose in this story was. Until the end, it is deep and beautiful but it is not necessarily philosophical. The final chapter becomes less about each individual’s story and more about Levin’s struggle with life’s biggest questions.
“Anna Karenina” may be considered a soap opera by some, but I believe that it is great fiction and great literature. Additionally, I believe that great literature is a wide-reaching medium to communicate profound philosophical messages.
I really like what Erik pointed out in his post, about Levin recognizing Anna from the portrait while finding still a new beauty in her. I’d like to return to that scene, for it shows an interesting dynamic in Anna’s character that I think points to the reverence people hold for her throughout the book. For one, she is immediately flattering, telling Levin that she’s “known of you and loved you” for a long time (697). She then proceeds to speak of things intimate to Levin’s life, and in this way quickly brings him under her spell; within half a page of meeting her, Levin is worried about what she thinks of him. Moreover, she responds to Levin’s attention with what Tolstoy describes as a “special glow” (697) — there’s no question as to why he feels ashamedly attracted to her. But what seems to be most interesting is that this all comes off as calculated; that is to say, because Anna enjoys the attention, she wittingly tries to manipulate Levin, potentially at his and Kitty’s expense. Anna knows how to take advantage of her appearance in society, and to me that special glow is made special to satisfy her own ego. This fits her character as well; she doesn’t seem too concerned with the consequences of such petty actions, and she certainly is not afraid to wreck a home. I don’t think this is sexist on Tolstoy’s part, nor do I think it dumbs down men to merely skirt-chasers. Rather, that he writes Anna’s character as such a subtly malicious socialite shows an adeptness at developing a character’s psyche in a very real way, and highlighting other personality traits (e.g. desire for attention and love and smoldering unhappiness) in an indirect manner.
As for the end, I’d like to put another opinion into the mix. I took Levin’s revelation as a spiritual understanding, rather than a religious experience, if you’ll allow me to separate the two. Despite referring to the god that all of Russia had in common, this closing passage seems much less about his submission to doctrine than it does coming to terms with himself and his personal values, and gaining a new sense of emotional and psychological depth that he otherwise did not recognize in himself. True, perhaps it comes off as a very quick transition, but I don’t find epiphanies that outlandish, even if they are of a spiritual nature.
I find it interesting that while Anna and Levin show us two contrasting pursuits for happyness, they react to society in different ways – Anna is charming and attractive, while Levin is contemptuous of high society and rough – but they get along very well together, though perhaps mostly due to Anna’s ability to entertain guests. It is also interesting that although she has such great social skills, she would give herself up wholly for a man and live happily in the countryside with him alone. She never fully obtains this wish, while Levin does. It makes me think about what my elders always tell me, “study what you’re interested in”, “do what you like and you’ll do well”. Levin lived a simple life and found devotion and love in his manual chores, and shunned high society because it did not suit his life.
I disagree with Emma’s quote, “Someone who has been wrestling with deep questions all his life is unlikely to find an answer so suddenly.” Moments of enlightenment come at the most unexpected moment. Newton rationalized gravity and completely changed Physics because an apple suddenly fell on his head. I cannot express in words my understanding of Levin’s revelation at the end, but I am able to feel the same peace that he feels without completely knowing why; therefore, I think the circumstances which Tolstoy set up for Levin is quite believable, and suitable for the fiction.
I wonder if Tolstoy’s lesson on morality at the end of the novel has anything to do with the fact that the novel was first published in serial form. Perhaps Tolstoy felt he had to fit in that an authentically good person should live like Fokanych, who “lives for the soul” and who “remembers god,” and lives “rightly, in god’s way.” If this is in fact the moral of the story, then Anna must have lived for her “own needs” and nothing else, which, according to the peasant Levin talks to, is the difference between people. It seems to me that Anna did see herself as a Christian, who during the scene of her suicide displayed what I think were very Christian acts—crossing herself, exclaiming “Lord, forgive me for everything!” After his realization of life’s significance, Levin comes to the conclusion that although he is still unable to understand why he prays, he will go on praying. Despite the fact that, in my opinion, Anna also prayed without fully understanding why, she was still portrayed by Tolstoy as a coquettish woman who forgot her place in society, made a lot of wrong choices, and who in the end simply got her comeuppance.
I agree with Emma and her idea of how Anna’s happiness is portrayed. She is described to us so greatly only to find out about her true life. Could it not apply to people of this day and age? A happiness outer shell to please society and others while their inner person combats many questions and problems they maybe facing. Simply put, here at Middlebury when asked “How are you?” Most of us tend to answer “Fine” even though we know we have tests, readings, assignments and everything else to complete. We learn a lot through Anna’s story and experiences. We are taught to think twice before trying to lead the life of Anna Karenina.
I think that the realm of fiction can be a great place to convey these messages. Back in a time and still currently where people wanted to escape from their lives and enter other ones, fiction was a great place to do it. And by sneaking in these questions of morality, oneself and life; we can see that these people (and even us) really aren’t able to escape themselves for that long. Professor Beyer himself mentioned that these books convey more about yourself than of what the characters show, so is it possible that we are able to learn about these ‘characters’ yet in retrospect about ourselves? With fiction, we don’t expect these questions to be posed toward us all the time.
Several people have mentioned that Anna’s charisma is larger than life and her exterior is far too perfect. However, I don’t completely agree with this. In the last blog, Joanna noted that events are recounted through the reactions of others. The reaction people have to Anna is always an overall positive one, but part of Anna’s charm is her darker, more complex side. The difference between Levin’s reaction to the portrait and to the real Anna illustrates this. Anna is dynamic in a way that a painting could never be. Her expression is ever changing and she is constantly unable to conceal her inner emotions, and I think that these qualities leave a strong impression on people. Somehow what is really volatility is always interpreted as social charm and grace.
I agree wholeheartedly with Ali that Tolstoy’s message is too important TO HIM. Like Erik, I feel that the end is too abrupt and mystifying for me to really grasp. However, it’s very clear that this notion is very important to Tolstoy. Had Anna and Vronsky achieved any semblance of happiness, his moral code and that of the general Russian public would have been violated. Happiness is achieved through faith, not romantic love. However, I’m left with a feeling of deep compassion for Anna and Vronsky, while I’m neutral to Levin and his relatively happy life, but this is due to my own belief system. I don’t buy it, Tolstoy.
It is quite interesting that Levin should be so awe struck by Mikhailov’s portrait of Anna instead of Vronsky. We knew that Mikhailov found Vronsky and Anna to be quite the nuisances and that he also harbored resentment towards the couple throughout their stay in Italy. The fact that this Mikhailov, the artist with an apparent disdain for being forced to sell his work, should, should produce such a response from Levin speaks volumes to the medium that he was working with. As noted above (and contradicted by Danielle), Anna exudes a charisma that, while it may not be profound in any other way than the fact that she is an utterly sociable person, does have a significant impact on the slightly tipsy Levin. His impression of Anna and his subsequent “infatuation” with her are indications of how despairing Anna Karenina’s life really is. The portrait shows Anna in all her grandeur and Levin gets to see the good-natured, charitable quality in her with respect to the English family she serves as a patron to. Yet the fact that Levin’s initial outlook on Anna is shaped by the portrait, which captures all of Anna’s likeability but does delve to the fullest extent of her anguish, is important as it is demonstrative of Anna’s situation as a whole. Thus much like Svidrigailov and Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment Tolstoy poses the question of suicide or spirituality, and this is largely embodied in the characters of Anna and Levin. Anna, like Svidrigailov to Raskolnikov, is seen with a veneer that betrays her true emotions in favor of a more confident attitude to Levin. Levin also deduces, much like Raskolnikov, that spirituality is the only reason to really continue living. In the end the portrait is vital as it shows to what extent Anna’s true self was masked before society and that makes her suicide all the more tragic.
I find it striking that Anna Karenina is so often referred to as a flawless, perfect novel; I have no clue what such adjectives mean. The question of whether Tolstoy’s message here is too important to be left to fiction plays into the attribution of perfection. I do think that Tolstoy, as a result of his ending with Levin, might have wanted to tackle an understanding of the world that was larger than can be explicitly conveyed. For me, this relates to Tolstoy’s more philosophical writings in general: he is known for being less than systematic in proposing a life imbued with a utopian vision of experience. I think that, contrary to the question, Tolstoy’s message can only be left to fiction, for it is about experiential idealism rather than any strict philosophical or rational system. We call Anna Karenina a soap-opera, I think, because of the way this idealism shines through the text. The novel is the perfect way, if only for a fleeting moment, to evoke a sense of ultimate hope in the reader, and I think that Tolstoy’s novel is called perfect specifically because it is so good at doing that.
Anna Karenina has an incredible charisma, way to move, look and dress, that impresses all people around her throughout the novel. To a certain extend, this is probably a role that she has learned to put on in society. She knows how to entertain a society and play the worldly lady. Yet, these learned skills are not enough to have such an influence on her surroundings nor are her looks, even though they most certainly help as can be seen by the effect of her portrait on other people. It is the combination of it all, but most importantly, her ability to introduce the complexity of human emotion, which she seems to have experienced all, in her conversation as well as her sincere empathy and compassion for others. Karenina was for her time a very educated woman, however she chooses to use her emotional intelligence rather than anything else when interacting with other people and understanding their point of view, especially after her affair with Vronski.
The ending conveys a message that is not unlike that of Dostoyevsky and it must have been a topic of concern in the 19th century Russian intelligentsia. After centuries of believing, the, to Russia, relatively new and secular approach must have been quite difficult to reconcile alongside the inherent belief in God. It is most certainly artificial, but Levin’s character offers itself to such a last minute transformation. In the end, these novels appear to be just as much a forum for moral lessons and own philosophical convictions as a interesting, intriguing story. Personally I can relate to the feeling than Levin has and his trouble with Belief. I would not consider myself to be a practicing Christian, but Christian values are so inherent to my belief system and the way that I have been brought up, that it is silly to make that claim.
Tolstoy’s epilogue-ish finish falls to some degree into the intentional fallacy, insofar as his objectives are not equivalent to his accomplishments. He tries to tell the reader, rather than show him or her, that spirituality is the ultimate answer; but I agree with Emma that this feels artificial, since faith doesn’t tend to play such a tremendous role in the story (Kitty has already accepted its absence in Levin), not least in how it’s summed-up. After all, Levin decides not even to tell Kitty or make this all-important realization known, which is Tolstoy’s way of saying that his message is too important to be left to fiction. Which is ironic, because it is embedded in a fictitious narrative. What’s more is that, in my opinion, one must believe in this sort of “spiritual understanding,” as Nathan aptly put it, before one can put much stock in Tolstoy’s concluding pages. Yes, it could be seen merely as an extension of Levin’s character, with other metaphorical meanings, but mostly it appeals to those who feel they have faith, because he enters into the realm of thinking that cannot have any empirical, entirely rational basis (as Levin himself admits). I don’t personally find it jarring that Levin has a minor crisis of unfaith, since coming from Tolstoy it is almost expectedly appropriate. I also don’t feel Tolstoy departs too far from the narrational norm to channel personal beliefs via Levin. At the same time, to someone who doesn’t find this sort of epiphany useful or believable, I do get an unfortunate impression that the immense world of Tolstoy’s tale ends, as T. S. Eliot concludes, not with a bang but a whimper.
When Levin first looks at the portrait he says “because she was not alive, she was more beautiful than a living woman can be” (697). So often in Tolstoy’s characterization he describes beauty as being the result of some inner excitement or liveliness shining through. I find it surprising that Anna was portrayed as being “less dazzling in reality,” as this seems to go against Tolstoy’s view that often someone’s personality can enhance or detract from their outward appearance.
The ending, for me, seems to confirm that Tolstoy was writing not for the sake of the novel, but used these characters, settings, and actions as a backdrop for his commentary and personal philosophy. Anna Karenina could have ended far before these final pages, as no serious action takes place. However, the final chapters allow for Levin to finally think through some of the big picture questions that have nagged at him throughout the book, and if not end up with definitive answers, to at least be at peace with what he does and does not know.
Mikhailov’s painting makes a significant impression on Levin and despite the fact that he immediately recognizes Anna as the woman in the portrait he notes some difference between the two. The portrait is slightly more beautiful, but Anna in the flesh is significantly more attractive to Levin. I think this somewhat mirrors Tolstoy’s aesthetic technique – where art traditionally imitates life and pretends to beauty greater than what exists in everyday life, but where the imperfections of reality are in sum more beautiful because of their vitality. That is a terribly worded sentence. I apologize. Levin’s attraction to Anna and Kitty’s jealousy all depict the details of life that in the short run seem potentially catastrophic, but ultimately end up unremarkable because of steady behavior.
I view the debate about explaining an author’s intentions in a supremely blunt epilogue as slightly silly. Primarily, I believe that an author writing fiction likely believes their subject to be too important for nonfiction – fiction on the whole is more accessible that long theoretical tracts. This is especially true with philosophical and religious conjectures. So, while I think Tolstoy’s perspectives on life and faith are interesting he’s had a thousand previous pages to get his point across and I could likely forgive him this if he were trying to do more with less.