Anna Karenina Part 2

Taken at George St, Providence

My last post made Anna Karenina seem like a rather depressing book. While it is definitely a tragedy, I wouldn't be doing it justice if I didn't acknowledge the uplifting and inspiring ideas it presents as well. The depth to which Tolstoy explores the issues in Anna Karenina is too deep to capture in something like a blog post, but I'd like to conclude this little series with a few final observations.

Now that I've finished the novel, it's obvious that Tolstoy supports traditional values of family and faith that were central in Russian society at the time. His critical view of modern city living, and disdain for abstract thinking is clear as well. Yet the various complications that present themselves within the pages of Anna Karenina make a rock solid conclusion difficult to draw out from among these favoritisms.

For example, Tolstoy does support a traditional family and the values that come with it.

SPOILERS
This can be seen from the ultimate chapter of the book being dedicated to Levin and Kitty's family, and the meaning that Levin derives from it.

Yet nearly the entirety of Anna Karenina is spent describing unhappy families. The first line of the novel perfectly captures the nuanced familial relationships and politics that Tolstoy explores.

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

Anna Karenina starts with Stiva (Anna's brother) cheating on his wife. It then turns to Anna's affair. Levin SPOILERSand Kitty get married, only to have a chapter right afterwards describing his disillusionment.

Tolstoy's depictions of faith follow a similar trend. Alexei has a revelation when he sees Anna dying, and in his newly found magnanimity, forgives Anna for her transgressions against him while Vronsky sulks in a corner. But right after that, Anna recovers, she hates Alexei even more, and his forgiveness ultimately means absolutely nothing. Kitty's revelation to faith seems powerful when it begins, but the speed and ease with which she is converted ultimately reinforces the simple and naive nature of her character. In fact, Tolstoy even chooses to strike down the "holiness" of her teacher within two chapters.

"she felt that the heavenly image of Madame Stahl, which she had carried for a whole month in her heart, had vanished, never to return, just as the fantastic figure made up of some clothes thrown down at random vanishes when one sees that it is only some garment lying there."

In all of this, Tolstoy is exploring the necessity of trials and mistakes to make these institutions work. It is only through the various obstacles within the story that Levin and Kitty reach their ultimately happy endings.

But what of Anna and Alexei's relationship and political struggles? If faith and family are so supported, why do they both appear so ineffective throughout the majority of the book? Like life itself, I think Tolstoy is acknowledging the ambiguity within these artificially simplified concepts. The way in which all of these forces interact is frankly, a complete mess, and Tolstoy wouldn't have it any other way.

In the end, what's most important about Levin's story is that he stops thinking so much. He doesn't come to any deep, profound conclusions on the events transpiring in his life. He doesn't come to terms with any of the philosophy books he reads.

Instead he encounters both a literal and figurative flash of lightning SPOILERS that he thinks may have killed Kitty and their son. Levin realizes what matters in life, and vows to never lose sight of it again. Despite the complexity of the novel and the themes explored in it, the final pages are simple. With all things wrapped up for better or for worse, Levin moves on with his life. And what a beautiful thing it is.

Anna Karenina: Part 1

Note: Spoilers will be invisible until highlighted.

That note was written in the passive voice. As any high school english student knows, using the passive voice is one of the most egregious sins one can commit in writing.

For those who don't know, passive voice is a grammatical term referring to a certain type of sentence structure. In most sentences, the subject does something. For example: "I ate the food." But in the passive voice, the subject gets something done to it by an unspecified agent. "The food was eaten." The passive voice is thus frowned upon for its vagueness. The sentence doesn't tell us who ate the food!

For a long time, I was unable to put my finger on what made "Anna Karenina" so disturbing in the magnitude of its tragedy. I've read my share of tragedies. Plays in particular, such as "Death of a Salesman" and "A Streetcar Named Desire" have permanently etched themselves into my memory with their tales of woe.

But there's something that Anna Karenina has that just left my speechless when I finished it.

SPOILERS
Anna Karenina is killed.

Despite the things that Anna does throughout the story, including infidelity, manipulation, and even child neglect, one can't help but look at her in awe. Anna is a passionate and well educated woman. She is caring, reflective, and beautiful. She enthralls all around her. She can even stop a divorce. 

But from the moment that Anna Karenina meets Vronsky on the train ride home, Anna Karenina lives her life in the passive voice.

As we read, we see Anna's life gradually slip away from her. All her inner strength and wisdom fail her, and fate becomes her master. In most tragedies, there is some kind of identifiable cause of the protagonist's fall. It could be a tangible entity, or perhaps a hamartia within the character him/herself. But in Anna's case, there is nothing to say. Anna is acted upon by an unspecified agent. Neither the circumstances of her tragedy nor the end result have any kind of ultimate meaning. 

Despite all her beauty, grace, and inner strength, Anna Karenina's story fades away.

This is what twisted my heart the most by the end of Tolstoy's epic. The final 50 pages of the 800 page book have no mention of Anna at all. Vronsky goes on with his life, and Levin takes center stage. Tolstoy creates a void that contrasts all the more powerfully with Levin's search for meaning in life SPOILER and ultimate revelation of faith. But one's heart aches all the same. 

I have come to see Anna Karenina as a sort of "anti Crime and Punishment." For those who haven't read Dostoevsky's work, I highly recommend it, it's what singlehandedly got me into Russian Literature. Both Anna and Raskolnikov commit crimes that seem horrific from an uninformed bystander's perspective. But when one follows their internal thoughts, they pose an intricate web of questions on justice, morality, and the human condition. But whereas Raskolnikov leaves his story with a sense of hope and fulfillment, Anna's leaves it empty.

There is nothing more to say.

Anna Karenina: Introduction

Although it's been almost a week since I finished reading Anna Karenina, I've found I have a curious inability to decide how I feel about it. For those who don't know, "Anna Karenina" is a novel by Russian author Leo Tolstoy. It is often placed among the finest works of literary prose of all time. It's true that there are many highly regarded books that can bore the adolescent mind, and yet when I first heard the premise of Anna Karenina, I was instantly enticed, even though it was published in 1878 and its subject matter was foreign to me.

"Anna Karenina" focuses on, guess who, Anna Arkadyevna Karenina. She is a noblewoman, married to one of the most important statesman in Russia, Alexei Alexandrovich Karenin. The story tells of her fall from grace as she engages in an affair with the handsome Count Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky.
It also follows the life of Konstantin Dmitrievich Levin, another noble who prefers his country farm over the pleasures of modern living in the city. His story arc follows his journey to discover meaning in life, as well as pursuing his love interest, Ekaterina Alexandrovna Shcherbatskaya.

If you haven't ever read Russian literature, I'll bet you're already confused by the character's names. I know I sure was. Though I love the depth to which Russian novels explore their characters, I admit I do not always appreciate the depth to which they explore the character's names. Luckily, Russian novels tend to refer to their characters by shortened versions of their names. Of course, this raises the question: "Which part of the name do I use?" Konstantin Dmitrievich Levin for example, is known by three (there might be more that I can't recall) different names throughout the novel.

-Levin
-Konstantin Dmitrievich
-Kostya

For the sake of this post, I will pick one shortened name and stick with it. If you ever do decide to read "Anna Karenina" for yourself, know that characters will occasionally be referred to by different names than the ones I use.

So let's try this again.

"Anna Karenina" focuses on, guess who, Anna. She is a noblewoman, married to one of the most important statesman in Russia, Alexei. The story tells of her fall from grace as she engages in an affair with the handsome Vronsky.
It also follows the life of Levin, another noble who prefers his country farm over the pleasures of modern living in the city. His story arc follows his journey to discover meaning in life, as well as pursuing his love interest, Kitty.

These characters compose but a small fraction of the intertwined families detailed in Tolstoy's masterpiece. But with the major characters out of the way, hopefully I'll be able to communicate my thoughts more clearly in another post.

On Ironing

In preparation for my move in to Brown, I found myself ironing some old clothes. My household actually doesn't keep an iron, so this was actually my first time even seeing one in use. I have to say, it was a strangely satisfying experience.

An iron provides two things: heat and steam. Using just those two forces, it magically straightens out wrinkled clothes. I have to say, when I first used it, I was legitimately fascinated. There's something so beautiful about this concept. Heat and water, together they can work wonders.

Of course, the process of ironing itself is relatively tedious, since one is forced to stand there doing a repetitive motion. I found my thoughts wandering to a common group of sayings. I've heard "heat and pressure make diamonds" and "clay must be fired before becoming hot" as variations of the idea that trials and tribulations make one stronger. I have to say though, I think my new favorite variation is: "heat and water straighten clothes."

If we were to liken clothes to people (a little strange but bear with me), there's a somber similarity. We both wrinkle over time. Through no fault of our own, our previous luster loses its shine.

And yet an iron presses clothes back into shape with those two wondrous substances: heat and water. In this metaphor, heat represents tests or pressures, just like in other sayings. Where I think the "Iron" metaphor succeeds is in the water.

Before I explain why the water aspect is so profound, I'll have to clarify the problem I have with the whole "heat makes you stronger" idea. Yes, trials and tribulations have a strong potential to strengthen us, but they can just as easily break us. Sometimes a tragedy is just that: a tragedy. There is no lesson to be learned, no comfort to be found. Coming to terms with such irrational sorrow is a part of growing up, as shown in the cynical stage so common to us adolescents.

And yet heat continuously applied does nothing but burn the cloth. A wise ironer applies the heat in controlled doses, over a wide area. And most importantly, water is used.

Water ensures the cloth does not burn as easily, and also makes it easier to shape with the heat. In the same way, heat is not as effective on us if we have no water.

What does it mean to have that water in terms of people? That's a question I think I'll have to ponder some more. But I think a good start is that water gives us the ability to embrace and resist heat. Water also allows us to then use that heat not as a destructive force, but an accelerator to straighten and mold ourselves. Perhaps it is a strong network of friends and family? Maybe an inner peace with oneself? Or is it a relative force that differs for each of us?

Ultimately, this is still a very abstract reflection, but the concept of water itself is what is important. Not all tests are good, if one is not in the right condition. Indeed, I'm glad I remembered to fill up my water tank before ironing my second shirt (after burning the corner of my first.)

Do I find it sad that the first thing I felt like writing about in college is ironing?

...

Maybe just a little bit.

"Sandy"

After such a dramatic first post, I'm surprised that I'm not entirely sure what I want to reflect on here. I intended One Iris to be a place for thoughts on my present and future circumstances. But I've come to realize that before I move forward, I need to look backward, so I can better understand how I've become who I am today and where I can still grow.

I first came to own my writing in my Sophomore year of high school. As such, my Sophomore English portfolio provides a fascinating glance into some themes that I reflected on at my "writing genesis" so to speak. It's hard to believe that was only two years ago...

Since then, I have written some informal pieces, but they were not uploaded to the portfolio. As such, I'd like to share some of the pieces I've written over those last two years, and provide a little analysis as to the meaning behind them.

----------------
“Sandy”

Cast along the Sandy shore
Driven by the winds of lore

Wrinkling,
Wrinkling,
Brown of hue
Falling
Falling
Far from new

Little leaves;
Tired Trunks;

Tiny Trikes;
Big boy bikes;


All a falling
----------------

This was a poem I wrote during Hurricane Sandy, which crashed into Rhode Island in the fall of 2012. I was stricken by an intense melancholy when I stepped outside for the first time after the storm. A tree, once strong and stout, had fallen down and almost hit our garage. A heavy rain was drenching the piles of dead leaves and branches strewn across the driveway.

Rhode Island was not the hardest hit by Sandy either, and I knew that in other places, Sandy had wrecked homes and even killed people. Something about the way that a force as simple as wind and rain could bring such devastation stuck with me. I still feel that sense of bewilderment and melancholy whenever I hear news about natural disasters as well as world conflicts.

"Sandy" explores that horrible confusion. Ultimately, it is a poem about death. Like a hurricane, death comes randomly and without discrimination. It tosses around the principles we base our lives around, whether they are strongly rooted trees or small fragile leaves. It can happen to young and old. It is inevitable.

Looking back, this was a very depressing poem. But there's a genuine fear in it that I still recognize in myself. I haven't fully come to terms with death in its morbid simplicity. Perhaps it's not something I should be coming to terms with at my age. But I think it's something one has to acknowledge before he/she can fully understand and appreciate life. This is not to say that one's mind should rest on such thoughts. Rather it is the courage to confront them, and the strength to understand and put them to rest that is important. In that respect, I am grateful that I saved this poem. Looks like I've still got plenty to learn from myself.

What is One Iris?

For my inaugural post, I'd like to explain the title of this blog.

"Iris" is a word that has a multitude of meanings to me. For one, the iris is an essential part of the eye that controls the amount of light it lets in. Thus the iris is responsible for how brightly or dimly one sees the world. I hope the writing in this blog would be like an iris, helping me to express and interpret what I experience.

One's eye color is also dictated by the iris. The eyes are often said to be the most beautiful part of one's face, but where would it be without the iris? Though there are only a handful of iris colors, each individual iris sees the world in a different way. Thus the iris also represents individuality within a broader group, whether it be in color or in identity.

I'd like to think that when we stare into another's eyes, we admire not only the shining blues or deep browns. After all, there are many other eyes that bear the same color. Rather, we admire what that individual iris has seen and the identity of the person who bears it. In that sense, the eye really is a window into the soul.

Finally, Iris is a species of flower. It is a hardy, yet delicate flower that comes in every color of the rainbow, like the greek goddess that it takes its name from. People are a lot like flowers. In some seasons we bloom, and others we wilt. But the iris flower is a perennial, so it can survive winters and bloom once again in the spring just like people. We both live a pretty short time overall, but the time we do have is beautiful if we live it to the fullest. The Iris flower thus serves as a reminder of the resilience, beauty, and brevity of life.

This blog is a window into one of those irises.