Third Time’s a Charm

Each winter, I read “The Russians”. My season of snow, ice, and long cold nights are seasoned with the words of Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Gogol, and of course Tolstoy.

Last night, I finished War and Peace.

Over the years, I’d begun reading Tolstoy’s masterpiece two different times, and both times I gave up. It was too dense, too unenjoyable. But then I educated myself. I researched the era, read biographies of Tolstoy and Napoleon, read historical accounts of the French Invasion of 1812, and read plenty of other Russians. And then, when I started War and Peace again, for the third time, I was enthralled. Knowing the history, the battles, many of the historical figures, and the timeline, I was able to enjoy the story and feel the suspense and action of Austerlitz, Smolensk, Borodino, and of course Moscow. I was able to invest myself in the varied cast of intriguing and relatable characters. I was able to truly read the novel, set against the chaotic backdrop of a historical era I know very well after all the research. And what did I discover?

I discovered the finest book I have ever read, a true masterpiece, and perhaps the greatest work of fiction ever written.

In Pierre, Nikolai, and Andrei, I uncovered fragments of myself and connected to all three of those protagonists at different times.

Despite all the praise I’m heaping on this work, it’s not without criticisms. I wish the female protagonists had a stronger presence instead of being weak, vile, and/or submissive, but I also could read the novel with the understanding of the gender roles and literary mechanisms of the time. Additionally, the second epilogue that closed the book was a disappointment, with the sudden plunge into philosophy. An underwhelming conclusion was thus presented to an otherwise flawless, stunning, and enchanting novel that had me completely possessed until I’d finished it.

But these criticisms do very little to detract from the epic majesty of this work. I’ve been this invested in a book only a handful of times, and now, finished with it, I know that War and Peace is one of those works with the capacity to change a person.

Like after I read Dante’s The Divine Comedy, Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, Carver’s All of Us, Thoreau’s Walden, and Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, I know that my literary biology has been altered in some way. Books like this leave their marks on you forever, and I’m so thankful to the authors with the talent and determination to write them.

Thank you, Lev Tolstoi.