The Russia of books and novels is a profound one; or maybe Leo Tolstoy was just a phenomenal writer who portrayed his Russia and his characters with charming, yet satisfying and even terrifying complexity.
In his book War and Peace, he tells with outstanding art and mental power, the story of more than twenty characters, from about 5 families following many of them all the way from childhood, into adulthood, when they make families of their own. He weaves familial conflicts across generations, over a substratum of the situations of that time, that is, Tsarist Russia in the era of French military leader Napoleone Bonaparte; and the eventual French invasion of the Russian empire.
All this, while developing the main character- Pierre Bezukhov, who by himself is initially largely unexciting, but grows -alongside the parallel and through the compound narratives of the other characters- into a robust and peaceful figure with stellar discernment. His naiveté at the beginning of the story is dreadfully painful and his growth as the story progresses is thus not only welcome and relieving, but also necessary and well deserved.
War and Peace remains one of my most favorite books of all time. I relate with the Character of Pierre deeply and frequently return to google to read about him. Meeting with him was my first real breath of hope for a cure for my innocence. I return to him every now and then to encourage myself.
On the other hand, the titular character of his other book, Anna Karenina, terrifies me with as much depth as Pierre Bezukhov inspires me. She and I are too much alike; passionate, charming, vivacious, too truthful. Unlike Pierre, her fate is unforgiving. Even when hope is apparent, she moves from one bad decision to the next until she is finally hit by a speeding train- or rather, she throws herself infront of one, driven by the weight of her internal conflict.
That a character so rich would end so tragically, is a harrowing reminder of how something that makes for mischief for one person, such as an extramarital affair, can also be the one thing that destroys another completely- like it did, Anna Karenina. Her conscience ate her up slowly but surely, killing her many times over in her life time before her body was finally destroyed.
In the character of Anna Karenina, though unspoken, it was implied that while unbridled passion, inconvenient truth, and unapologetic honesty are the stuff of great characters in great novels, they make for terrible and often conflicted living. The death of Anna Karenina stamps and seals this further, almost a metaphor of the same in real life.
