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tmaltman's review against another edition
5.0
Here’s a few short thoughts on finishing a long, long novel:
Why read it? I feel like I lost my focus during the pandemic. I wrote almost every day, but any deep reading ability declined in a time of distractions. I wanted to get that focus back.
Why else? War and Peace ranks among the greatest novels ever written, yet it defeated me twice when I tried it as an undergrad. At first, I wondered if younger me had it right since the huge cast of characters mostly just attend soirées in the first hundred pages. At first I approached my fifty pages a day (what you need to finish in one month) with all the enthusiasm of a daily regimen of push-ups.
So you regret it? Not at all. Tolstoy’s masterpiece is both amazing and maddening. As I sank into the story, it became fully immersive. Tolstoy has this cinematic eye for detail that can carry you right to the battlefield, and yet his deep understanding of the human heart also brings to life the people within these pages. I actually teared up on page 400 when the little princess died, and it surprised me. You cruel bastard, Tolstoy. You are making me cry?
And there are so many indelible scenes in this book, from wolf hunts to a midnight mummer’s dance that you won’t forget. And Natasha and Pierre and Nicholai and poor doomed Prince Andrei. They will stay with you.
But? Yeah, it’s also kind of maddening. Of the 1455 pages Tolstoy dedicates maybe 200 to letting you know he thinks Napoleon was overrated. Lengthy discussions of military German war theory and debates between generals get tedious. The last forty pages of the novel contain no narrative at all. Nope, instead from pages 1415-1455 Tolstoy treats you to a lengthy debate about whether people caught up in history have any free will at all. Then it just ends. No climax, no finality, though some characters find bliss.
Things Tolstoy doesn’t like? Napoleon. Historians who like Napoleon. War. Peace. The institution of marriage. Mysticism. Serfdom. Germans.
So, it was worth it? For any writer this book has much to teach us. Like even minor characters who only appear in one chapter somehow become fully realized. I laughed. I cried. And isn’t it comforting knowing that one of the great works of all time actually has its share of flaws? This book won’t rank in my top ten—I still prefer Dostoevsky and The Brother’s K—but it’s a great read and my life is richer for having read it.
Why read it? I feel like I lost my focus during the pandemic. I wrote almost every day, but any deep reading ability declined in a time of distractions. I wanted to get that focus back.
Why else? War and Peace ranks among the greatest novels ever written, yet it defeated me twice when I tried it as an undergrad. At first, I wondered if younger me had it right since the huge cast of characters mostly just attend soirées in the first hundred pages. At first I approached my fifty pages a day (what you need to finish in one month) with all the enthusiasm of a daily regimen of push-ups.
So you regret it? Not at all. Tolstoy’s masterpiece is both amazing and maddening. As I sank into the story, it became fully immersive. Tolstoy has this cinematic eye for detail that can carry you right to the battlefield, and yet his deep understanding of the human heart also brings to life the people within these pages. I actually teared up on page 400 when the little princess died, and it surprised me. You cruel bastard, Tolstoy. You are making me cry?
And there are so many indelible scenes in this book, from wolf hunts to a midnight mummer’s dance that you won’t forget. And Natasha and Pierre and Nicholai and poor doomed Prince Andrei. They will stay with you.
But? Yeah, it’s also kind of maddening. Of the 1455 pages Tolstoy dedicates maybe 200 to letting you know he thinks Napoleon was overrated. Lengthy discussions of military German war theory and debates between generals get tedious. The last forty pages of the novel contain no narrative at all. Nope, instead from pages 1415-1455 Tolstoy treats you to a lengthy debate about whether people caught up in history have any free will at all. Then it just ends. No climax, no finality, though some characters find bliss.
Things Tolstoy doesn’t like? Napoleon. Historians who like Napoleon. War. Peace. The institution of marriage. Mysticism. Serfdom. Germans.
So, it was worth it? For any writer this book has much to teach us. Like even minor characters who only appear in one chapter somehow become fully realized. I laughed. I cried. And isn’t it comforting knowing that one of the great works of all time actually has its share of flaws? This book won’t rank in my top ten—I still prefer Dostoevsky and The Brother’s K—but it’s a great read and my life is richer for having read it.
jbrown2140's review against another edition
4.0
War and Peace took me more than the month of June, but I’ve finished. A couple of quick thoughts:
1) I liked this more the first time I read it- about 10 years ago. I remember finding the characters’ stories and development more compelling, and I was less distracted by the historical and philosophical (?- maybe not philosophical exactly - theoretical) excursuses. I know “show don’t tell” isn’t everyone’s creed, nor should it be necessarily, but this time through, I thought, the best way Tolstoy could demonstrate his claims about history could have been through the characters, and that adding in more abstract theoretical explorations of leaders and history and their relationship didn’t add that much. And a lot of it was redundant.
2) relating to the characters themselves, I did find the Rostov/Bolkonsky/Bezoukhov nexus very satisfying in how it explored different aspects of human nature by placing these characters in the context of one another. The changes each of hrs principal male characters undergo are impactful to me in a very real way.
3) this may stir the hornet’s nest a little bit but - there is a problem with the way women are represented in this book.
And before you get in the comments about “that was his time this is ours don’t be a presentist/member of the woke mob” - these are definitely NOT problems I see appearing in George Eliot or even Charles Dickens. Or if you think those are unfair contrasts because they’re English and Tolstoy is Russian, Dostoevsky (who has his own problems with women, to be sure) has dozens and dozens of female characters that have a lot more specific reality and individuality to them than Tolstoy’s (either in War and Peace OR Anna Karenina, in my opinion). Tolstoy may or may not be “a product of his time,” but I think there is a uniquely problematic aspect to HIS female characters.
By way of example: Natasha is more metaphor than person, and her shift from teenage temptress/ingenue to caring stout matriarch is explored with so little sense of her as any kind of agent- she just becomes a vehicle for illustrating points about the male characters (and/or a vessel for bearing their children)- and also a symbol of Russia itself, in its dalliance with French culture, and then ultimate return to its authentic self. And she’s not the only woman in this book this is true of. Her narrative is told from a misogynist perspective, and does not take her perspective seriously as a full person. This doesn’t mean it ruins the book for me, or that we should “cancel” it, but I do think we should acknowledge it as a problematic aspect of this text. And also reflect on how that might lead to a criticism of Tolstoy’s more programmic goal of characterizing others’ theories of history and its relationship to the individual.
1) I liked this more the first time I read it- about 10 years ago. I remember finding the characters’ stories and development more compelling, and I was less distracted by the historical and philosophical (?- maybe not philosophical exactly - theoretical) excursuses. I know “show don’t tell” isn’t everyone’s creed, nor should it be necessarily, but this time through, I thought, the best way Tolstoy could demonstrate his claims about history could have been through the characters, and that adding in more abstract theoretical explorations of leaders and history and their relationship didn’t add that much. And a lot of it was redundant.
2) relating to the characters themselves, I did find the Rostov/Bolkonsky/Bezoukhov nexus very satisfying in how it explored different aspects of human nature by placing these characters in the context of one another. The changes each of hrs principal male characters undergo are impactful to me in a very real way.
3) this may stir the hornet’s nest a little bit but - there is a problem with the way women are represented in this book.
And before you get in the comments about “that was his time this is ours don’t be a presentist/member of the woke mob” - these are definitely NOT problems I see appearing in George Eliot or even Charles Dickens. Or if you think those are unfair contrasts because they’re English and Tolstoy is Russian, Dostoevsky (who has his own problems with women, to be sure) has dozens and dozens of female characters that have a lot more specific reality and individuality to them than Tolstoy’s (either in War and Peace OR Anna Karenina, in my opinion). Tolstoy may or may not be “a product of his time,” but I think there is a uniquely problematic aspect to HIS female characters.
By way of example: Natasha is more metaphor than person, and her shift from teenage temptress/ingenue to caring stout matriarch is explored with so little sense of her as any kind of agent- she just becomes a vehicle for illustrating points about the male characters (and/or a vessel for bearing their children)- and also a symbol of Russia itself, in its dalliance with French culture, and then ultimate return to its authentic self. And she’s not the only woman in this book this is true of. Her narrative is told from a misogynist perspective, and does not take her perspective seriously as a full person. This doesn’t mean it ruins the book for me, or that we should “cancel” it, but I do think we should acknowledge it as a problematic aspect of this text. And also reflect on how that might lead to a criticism of Tolstoy’s more programmic goal of characterizing others’ theories of history and its relationship to the individual.
runekeon's review against another edition
3.0
This was a long listen even at 1.5 speed. My favorite parts were the philosophical monologs. Compared to modern writing the characters don't change much other than Pierre the character designed to change.
It is interesting but it didn't really move me the way it seems to have other people.
It is interesting but it didn't really move me the way it seems to have other people.
dmoatmeat's review against another edition
3.0
OK, didn’t finish, but still giving it 3 stars. I just couldn’t get through it, wrong time of life maybe because I loved Anna Karenina (and similar Crime & Punishment and Brothers Karamazov) but I just couldn’t hang in there for this one.
bcoltin's review against another edition
5.0
This has a reputation of being boring. It is very much undeserved, it was an engaging and fun read, very dramatic and also educational.
beritt's review against another edition
4.0
How do you write a review of War and Peace? It’s like writing a review of one of Shakespeare’s plays or poems - you can still have an opinion, of course, but the brilliance of the piece is never in question.
And it wasn’t, not for a second. This book is unbelievably good. I kept a list of characters at first, because I had difficulty keeping track of all the double last names, Russian nicknames, and adopted French names (to give you an idea, Pierre is actually called Pyotr, but is often referred to by his last name Bezukhov, but his full last name is actually Kirilych Bezukhov, so occasionally someone would refer to Count Kirilych and I had to double-check my list to see who (s)he was talking about) but about 200 pages in I could keep everyone apart.
According to the introduction to this edition of the novel, readers and critics were initially confused and annoyed by this novel because it wasn’t clear who the protagonists were, nor whether this was a novel, or something else.
Neither of these things bothered me. Sure, the long reflections on history and war could not always sustain my attention, especially not if they lasted several chapters (hence my giving four stars instead of five). Yet, they did not disrupt the narrative for me, but were intertwined with it, especially with Pierre’s and Nikolai’s stories (they’re almost polar opposites to me, those two, much like Alexander and Napoleon).
I could care less about Nikolai, honestly, and by the end of the novel I found him stubborn and silly; so rigid in his commitment to the army and the country. Considering his character development over the course of the novel, though, it’s the perfect culmination of all his experiences, especially those in the war (but also those with Sonya - does he become so unemotional near the end because
Pierre, on the other hand, was my favorite. Like Levin in Anna Karenina, I felt like he was most like Tolstoy himself. I’m sure much has been written about that, I don’t know - I just noticed the similarities with Levin (his spiritual quest, his happiness in rural family life) and I LOVED THEM. Pierre’s spiritual searching was at the heart of the novel for me.
But what I love most about this novel is what I loved most about Anna Karenina as well: I know no other author, except maybe Nabokov (although in an entirely different way) who is able to capture everything about life, and being alive, and the human experience so perfectly. I know that’s a a trite thing to say, but I don’t know how else to phrase it: he captures life. “If life could write, it would write like Tolstoy," Isaac Babel is quoted to have set on the back flap of this edition, and so it is.
The things I remember most from this novel are things that almost feel like my own memories. Which is crazy considering this is an 1869 novel about life at the beginning of the 19th century (around 1812). And yet, I feel like I “remember” how Natasha was sitting at the window sill at their country house and sighing to Sonya about not being able to go to bed because everything was so beautiful. I feel like I “remember” the excitement Nikolai experienced when hunting with the borzois and his uncle on a particularly freezing day. I “remember” Andrei’s poetic reflections on life on the eve before battle, and I “remember” Pierre’s experiences, especially his marveling at the beautiful hills in the early morning:
“When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, and saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still dark at first, the hoar frost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, and the wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple distance, when he felt the contact of the fresh air, and heard the noise of the crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when afterwards light gleamed from the east and the sun’s rim appeared solemnly from behind a cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the hoar frost, the distance and the river, all began to sparkle in the glad light - Pierre felt a new joy and strength in life such as he had never before known” (1090).
I wasn’t there, and yet, I was.
Sure, all good writers make you feel that way (I hope). But there is something about Tolstoy’s writing that’s different. It’s as if you are really, truly there, even noticing the things he isn’t writing down. It's as if you are watching a scene play out on stage and notice a look pass between two of the players. I “see” it, even when it’s not explicitly mentioned. That’s how alive the novel is.
To finish, this section from another “remembered” moment; Pierre’s conversation with Marya and Natasha near the end of the novel (hidden for spoilers):
“‘They say, misfortunes and sufferings,’ remarked Pierre, ‘yes, but if right now, right this minute they asked me: “Would you rather be what you were before you were taken prisoner, or go through this all again?’ For God’s sake let me again have captivity and horse flesh! We imagine that when we are thrown out of our familiar rut all is lost, but that is only when something new and good can begin. While there is life there is happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you,’ he added, turning to Natasha” (1204).
There is much, much before us indeed.
This has been an incredible novel, and I will remember Pierre, Natasha, and Marya just as I remember Levin and Kitty.
And it wasn’t, not for a second. This book is unbelievably good. I kept a list of characters at first, because I had difficulty keeping track of all the double last names, Russian nicknames, and adopted French names (to give you an idea, Pierre is actually called Pyotr, but is often referred to by his last name Bezukhov, but his full last name is actually Kirilych Bezukhov, so occasionally someone would refer to Count Kirilych and I had to double-check my list to see who (s)he was talking about) but about 200 pages in I could keep everyone apart.
According to the introduction to this edition of the novel, readers and critics were initially confused and annoyed by this novel because it wasn’t clear who the protagonists were, nor whether this was a novel, or something else.
Neither of these things bothered me. Sure, the long reflections on history and war could not always sustain my attention, especially not if they lasted several chapters (hence my giving four stars instead of five). Yet, they did not disrupt the narrative for me, but were intertwined with it, especially with Pierre’s and Nikolai’s stories (they’re almost polar opposites to me, those two, much like Alexander and Napoleon).
I could care less about Nikolai, honestly, and by the end of the novel I found him stubborn and silly; so rigid in his commitment to the army and the country. Considering his character development over the course of the novel, though, it’s the perfect culmination of all his experiences, especially those in the war (but also those with Sonya - does he become so unemotional near the end because
Spoiler
he had to distance himself from her?Pierre, on the other hand, was my favorite. Like Levin in Anna Karenina, I felt like he was most like Tolstoy himself. I’m sure much has been written about that, I don’t know - I just noticed the similarities with Levin (his spiritual quest, his happiness in rural family life) and I LOVED THEM. Pierre’s spiritual searching was at the heart of the novel for me.
But what I love most about this novel is what I loved most about Anna Karenina as well: I know no other author, except maybe Nabokov (although in an entirely different way) who is able to capture everything about life, and being alive, and the human experience so perfectly. I know that’s a a trite thing to say, but I don’t know how else to phrase it: he captures life. “If life could write, it would write like Tolstoy," Isaac Babel is quoted to have set on the back flap of this edition, and so it is.
The things I remember most from this novel are things that almost feel like my own memories. Which is crazy considering this is an 1869 novel about life at the beginning of the 19th century (around 1812). And yet, I feel like I “remember” how Natasha was sitting at the window sill at their country house and sighing to Sonya about not being able to go to bed because everything was so beautiful. I feel like I “remember” the excitement Nikolai experienced when hunting with the borzois and his uncle on a particularly freezing day. I “remember” Andrei’s poetic reflections on life on the eve before battle, and I “remember” Pierre’s experiences
Spoiler
in captivity“When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, and saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still dark at first, the hoar frost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, and the wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple distance, when he felt the contact of the fresh air, and heard the noise of the crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when afterwards light gleamed from the east and the sun’s rim appeared solemnly from behind a cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the hoar frost, the distance and the river, all began to sparkle in the glad light - Pierre felt a new joy and strength in life such as he had never before known” (1090).
I wasn’t there, and yet, I was.
Sure, all good writers make you feel that way (I hope). But there is something about Tolstoy’s writing that’s different. It’s as if you are really, truly there, even noticing the things he isn’t writing down. It's as if you are watching a scene play out on stage and notice a look pass between two of the players. I “see” it, even when it’s not explicitly mentioned. That’s how alive the novel is.
To finish, this section from another “remembered” moment; Pierre’s conversation with Marya and Natasha near the end of the novel (hidden for spoilers):
Spoiler
“‘They say, misfortunes and sufferings,’ remarked Pierre, ‘yes, but if right now, right this minute they asked me: “Would you rather be what you were before you were taken prisoner, or go through this all again?’ For God’s sake let me again have captivity and horse flesh! We imagine that when we are thrown out of our familiar rut all is lost, but that is only when something new and good can begin. While there is life there is happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you,’ he added, turning to Natasha” (1204).
There is much, much before us indeed.
This has been an incredible novel, and I will remember Pierre, Natasha, and Marya just as I remember Levin and Kitty.
raphael_rocha's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
emotional
inspiring
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.25
sowalsky's review against another edition
5.0
"War and Peace" might just as well have been entitled "Hatred and Love," or "Wealth and Poverty," or "Realism and Idealism," or, as Tolstoy himself implies at the end of the book, "Necessity and Free Will." This is a book which is preoccupied, on multiple levels, with the synthesis of mutually exclusive elements. Even the novel's form emphasizes its content. "War and Peace" is divided into four books (plus two epilogues), each of which is divided into multiple sections, with each section being divided into many small chapters of three to four pages on average. Tolstoy weaves together numerous threads based on the stories of several prominent Russian families, balanced against the broader historical events surrounding the Napoleonic Wars, contrasting these microcosms with the larger macrocosm in which they are contained. Tolstoy works round-robin, focusing for several chapters on one family or character, then another, and then on the historical background, all of which are interspersed with occasional short forays into narrative philosophical commentary. Thus, the author mixes together the stories of individuals and families with the story of nations.
Although less explicit about his intent in this regard, Tolstoy also seems to assert that human events are cyclical in nature. Twice in the story Napoleon is seen invading Russia. Twice in the story Natasha finds herself romantically inclined towards different men -- and then a third time at the very conclusion of the book. To take another example, there are the numerous instances in which Pierre experiences conflicting epiphanies which result in the course of his life swinging radically from one direction to another. Of course, the backdrop of the cyclical change of seasons becomes pivotal during the conflict of 1812. And, in the broader scope, the procession of generations is reflected as well: at the end of the novel, the characters who were children and adolescents at the start of the story are now, themselves, parents, the progeny having taken the place of their own progenitors.
To be perfectly frank, I was prepared to dislike this novel. The older I get, the more difficult it is for me to dismiss the ignorance of the past: the patriarchy, the classism, the bigotry. But Tolstoy, as a privileged, empowered, white male does a reasonable job of maintaining a balanced perspective, given the age (the 1860s) in which he was writing. Some of his philosophical asides are particularly gratifying in this regard, particularly his message that the romantic veneer of warfare is a thin cover for a phenomenon which is disgusting and disgraceful. In this regard, he foreshadows Vonnegut more than Hemingway.
The Epilogues are, arguably, the most problematic parts of "War and Peace." The first of these follows the ultimate fate of about a half dozen of the novel's more prominent characters, to no obvious purpose, particularly since it ends so inconclusively. The reader is almost led to believe that it's the set-up for a sequel. But, as the introduction to this edition makes clear, Tolstoy had originally wanted to write a story about the Decembrist uprising of 1825. However, in mapping out his ideas, he realized that it was the quarter-century-long period preceding that uprising which planted its seeds. In order to tell the story of the Decembrists effectively, it would be necessary for him, first, to address the period of the Napoleonic Wars. And once Tolstoy started down that road he, evidently, felt that the subject of the Decembrists carried less weight. In the end, he simply hints at the end of the first Epilogue that two of the characters were likely to figure into the 1825 uprising in some unspecified manner.
Tolstoy's second, slightly shorter, Epilogue is a bit more frustrating, and consists of a philosophical treatise on the age-old subject of the dichotomy between necessity and free will, as expressed within circa-1860s historical scholarship. It's a bit like a comedian explaining his joke after it's been told, but Tolstoy, presumably, wanted to make certain that his underlying point was not lost on the reader. He asserts, in short, that the more we know about the subjects of history, the further in time those subjects are from us, and the greater our knowledge of their context (i.e., the circumstances which may have acted as mitigating forces), the less likely we are to ascribe history to the free will of individuals or groups, and the more likely we are to ascribe it to necessity. Tolstoy does, however, stop somewhat shy of pure determinism, in the end making recourse to metaphysics without further comment. This, again, is clearly reflected in the form of the novel, since the Decembrist uprising was that much closer in time to his day than the Napoleonic Wars; thus, Tolstoy seems to be sidestepping the issue of addressing who was responsible for the events of 1825 by focusing on the events of the generation preceding them, which, from his perspective, were easier to ascribe, convincingly, to necessity. In fact, he spends a good deal of the main body of the book minimizing Napoleon, refuting his role as a military genius or a great leader, and instead demonstrating again and again how those who were little remarked upon by history played much more central roles in the unfolding of events, as well as highlighting the manner in which individuals and groups were often acted upon by greater forces well beyond their control. This is reflected in the individual characters whose biographies Tolstoy presents, as well: the reader understand early on that Nikolai and Sonya will not -- cannot -- ever marry, and this because of forces which acted upon them even before their own births (i.e., family circumstances beyond their control). And so it continues throughout the book.
Tolstoy may not be as deep and broodingly thoughtful as Dostoyevsky -- and he is therefore easier to read, yet not as satisfying -- but he doesn't exactly play softball either. Despite its focus on the aristocracy, its patriarchal cultural context, the author's exasperating predilection for repetition, and his self-assured (if dubious) philosophical assertions, I found this classic a joy to read. I am, furthermore, grateful that no sequel was attempted, and I wholeheartedly hope that no one is foolish enough to try their hand at it now, some 150 years after the fact.
Although less explicit about his intent in this regard, Tolstoy also seems to assert that human events are cyclical in nature. Twice in the story Napoleon is seen invading Russia. Twice in the story Natasha finds herself romantically inclined towards different men -- and then a third time at the very conclusion of the book. To take another example, there are the numerous instances in which Pierre experiences conflicting epiphanies which result in the course of his life swinging radically from one direction to another. Of course, the backdrop of the cyclical change of seasons becomes pivotal during the conflict of 1812. And, in the broader scope, the procession of generations is reflected as well: at the end of the novel, the characters who were children and adolescents at the start of the story are now, themselves, parents, the progeny having taken the place of their own progenitors.
To be perfectly frank, I was prepared to dislike this novel. The older I get, the more difficult it is for me to dismiss the ignorance of the past: the patriarchy, the classism, the bigotry. But Tolstoy, as a privileged, empowered, white male does a reasonable job of maintaining a balanced perspective, given the age (the 1860s) in which he was writing. Some of his philosophical asides are particularly gratifying in this regard, particularly his message that the romantic veneer of warfare is a thin cover for a phenomenon which is disgusting and disgraceful. In this regard, he foreshadows Vonnegut more than Hemingway.
The Epilogues are, arguably, the most problematic parts of "War and Peace." The first of these follows the ultimate fate of about a half dozen of the novel's more prominent characters, to no obvious purpose, particularly since it ends so inconclusively. The reader is almost led to believe that it's the set-up for a sequel. But, as the introduction to this edition makes clear, Tolstoy had originally wanted to write a story about the Decembrist uprising of 1825. However, in mapping out his ideas, he realized that it was the quarter-century-long period preceding that uprising which planted its seeds. In order to tell the story of the Decembrists effectively, it would be necessary for him, first, to address the period of the Napoleonic Wars. And once Tolstoy started down that road he, evidently, felt that the subject of the Decembrists carried less weight. In the end, he simply hints at the end of the first Epilogue that two of the characters were likely to figure into the 1825 uprising in some unspecified manner.
Tolstoy's second, slightly shorter, Epilogue is a bit more frustrating, and consists of a philosophical treatise on the age-old subject of the dichotomy between necessity and free will, as expressed within circa-1860s historical scholarship. It's a bit like a comedian explaining his joke after it's been told, but Tolstoy, presumably, wanted to make certain that his underlying point was not lost on the reader. He asserts, in short, that the more we know about the subjects of history, the further in time those subjects are from us, and the greater our knowledge of their context (i.e., the circumstances which may have acted as mitigating forces), the less likely we are to ascribe history to the free will of individuals or groups, and the more likely we are to ascribe it to necessity. Tolstoy does, however, stop somewhat shy of pure determinism, in the end making recourse to metaphysics without further comment. This, again, is clearly reflected in the form of the novel, since the Decembrist uprising was that much closer in time to his day than the Napoleonic Wars; thus, Tolstoy seems to be sidestepping the issue of addressing who was responsible for the events of 1825 by focusing on the events of the generation preceding them, which, from his perspective, were easier to ascribe, convincingly, to necessity. In fact, he spends a good deal of the main body of the book minimizing Napoleon, refuting his role as a military genius or a great leader, and instead demonstrating again and again how those who were little remarked upon by history played much more central roles in the unfolding of events, as well as highlighting the manner in which individuals and groups were often acted upon by greater forces well beyond their control. This is reflected in the individual characters whose biographies Tolstoy presents, as well: the reader understand early on that Nikolai and Sonya will not -- cannot -- ever marry, and this because of forces which acted upon them even before their own births (i.e., family circumstances beyond their control). And so it continues throughout the book.
Tolstoy may not be as deep and broodingly thoughtful as Dostoyevsky -- and he is therefore easier to read, yet not as satisfying -- but he doesn't exactly play softball either. Despite its focus on the aristocracy, its patriarchal cultural context, the author's exasperating predilection for repetition, and his self-assured (if dubious) philosophical assertions, I found this classic a joy to read. I am, furthermore, grateful that no sequel was attempted, and I wholeheartedly hope that no one is foolish enough to try their hand at it now, some 150 years after the fact.
hopelessandforlorn's review against another edition
3.0
3 1/2 stars, if I could.
For many decades I have been a "Dostoevsky only" type of Russian literature reader. I decided to give War & Peace a try for my winter read.
While I enjoyed the sweep and scope of the novel, Tolstoy tends to repeat himself when it comes to his take on history and great figures in history.
The epilogue was excruciatingly boring. It was repetitive and took away any pleasure I had experienced while reading the book.
Future readers: skip the Epilogue.
My one thought throughout the book was that I cannot wait to revisit the Brothers Karamozov. There is a novel of depth, insight, challenge and great reward.
For many decades I have been a "Dostoevsky only" type of Russian literature reader. I decided to give War & Peace a try for my winter read.
While I enjoyed the sweep and scope of the novel, Tolstoy tends to repeat himself when it comes to his take on history and great figures in history.
The epilogue was excruciatingly boring. It was repetitive and took away any pleasure I had experienced while reading the book.
Future readers: skip the Epilogue.
My one thought throughout the book was that I cannot wait to revisit the Brothers Karamozov. There is a novel of depth, insight, challenge and great reward.