Tag Archives: Historical

On Finally Reading War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

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Well, I’ve done it. A couple of years of failed attempts and a couple of weeks of dogged determination, and I’ve done it: I finished War and Peace. How was it? Easier than I expected. Tolstoy’s a master storyteller, and Anna Karenina is probably one of my favourite all-time classics. War and Peace was difficult to get into at first — it felt like dozens of characters were introduced in the first few chapters, and when my sister asked me what it was about so far, I mentioned at least four different story lines before her eyes glazed over and I realized I was narrating the entire book so far instead of summarizing. That’s because I had no clue at that point what the book was about yet; I was too busy juggling all these different characters. My edition (pictured above) didn’t have a family tree or character list in the beginning, so I took out a pen and started marking away. To whomever picks up my copy at a used booksale, I hope my minor notations help somewhat.

After reading the book, can I give a summary? War and Peace is about several Russian families during the Napoleonic War. That really only begins to get into what the book is about, but it’s a start.

Good news — shortly after the war scenes got into full swing, the characters became more fully fleshed out, and much easier to distinguish. To my surprise (given how frustrated I felt at the beginning of the book in keeping the characters straight), I started to feel strongly about these characters. I expected to be captivated by the war scenes, and definitely the stories of friendships among the soldiers were striking. But it was really the drawing room scenes that fascinated me — the romantic entanglements among the main characters could rival The Bachelor in melodrama. An example: Nikolay and Sonya were childhood sweethearts, but Nikolay’s mother wants him to marry a rich heiress instead to help the family’s financial situation. Nikolay thinks marrying for money is reprehensible, yet, to my horror, at one point encourages Sonya to accept another man’s marriage proposal. “WTF!” I wrote on the margin. (To whomever gets my copy of this book, I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.) Don’t worry about having been given a spoiler — with over 1400 pages of storytelling, so much more happens to that particular plot thread.

Sonya’s love life is one of my personal favourite plot threads in War and Peace, but Tolstoy has certainly created a lot of interesting characters. The vivacious Natasha is usually called the heroine, but I’m more intrigued by Princess Marya Bolkonsky, a woman with “a plain, sickly face,” but with beautiful eyes — “large, deep and luminous (rays of warm light seemed at times to radiate in streams from them) […] her eyes were more attractive than beauty.” I love that phrase: “more attractive than beauty.” Oh wow, Mr. Tolstoy. Princess Marya however knows she is plain, and so believes she is destined to take care of her aging father rather than find romance. Fascinating, sympathetic character.

There’s also a touching scene where a married couple throws a dinner party and invite VIPs in order to increase their own social standing. They consider their party a success because it was just like everyone else’s. This couple is probably not meant to be very sympathetic — the woman was shown being cruel as a child — but there was something really pathetic, and sympathetic, about their desire to be like everyone else.

I was somewhat disappointed by Natasha’s attitude after marriage. Spoiler free excerpt:

Every minute of [her husband’s] life belonged to her and their home. [He] was so far under petticoat government that he did not dare to be attentive, or even to speak with a smile, to any other woman; did not dare go to dine at the club, without good reason, simply for entertainment […] To make up for all this [he] had complete power in his own house […] In their own home Natasha made herself a slave to her husband; and the whole household had to go on tiptoe if the master were busy reading or writing in his study. (Epilogue Part 1, Chapter X)

Seriously? From both perspectives, doesn’t that seem a bit stifling? That was also shortly after Tolstoy wrote that the primary significance of marriage was the family: “Natasha needed a husband. A husband was given her; and the husband gave her a family. And she saw no need of another better husband.” Interesting switch on the idea of women as baby machines (in Natasha’s case, her husband appears to be the baby machine), but not very romantic.

Even in the war scenes, I was most fascinated by the characters whose families I’ve read about in the domestic scenes. For example, in one scene, Tolstoy writes that Andrey wasn’t happy about running into someone from his past because of all the memories of his most recent visit home. Details like this make the soldiers real to me, and intrigue me much more than the passages when leaders meet to discuss war strategy or when Tolstoy pontificates about Napoleon and history and the role of chance. Tolstoy does talk quite a bit about his ideas on history, and I can certainly imagine long academic discussions about these passages. However, it was the characters that kept War and Peace real for me.

That being said, a couple of lines from Tolstoy’s essay-like passages struck me as being especially profound:

To the flunkey no man can be great, because the flunkey has his own flunkey conception of greatness. (Part 15, Chapter V)

Why does a war or a revolution come to pass? We do not know. We only know that to bring either result to pass, men form themselves into a certain combination in which we all take part; and we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise; because it is a law. (Epilogue Part 2, VII)

True dat, Mr. Tolstoy.

Review | Curiosity, Joan Thomas

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Joan Thomas’ Curiosity relates the love story between two historical figures, Mary Anning and Henry de la Beche. Mary, a cabinet maker’s daughter who sells curiosities by the seashore unearths the intact skeleton of a prehistoric creature. This was almost half a century before Darwin published On the Origin of Species so Mary’s town still finds it difficult to believe the idea of a creature that existed pre-humanity. They are absolutely certain that creatures have always existed in their current form, and so are uncertain about how to deal with her discovery.

Mary meets and falls in love with Henry de la Beche, the son of gentry and a military college dropout who now enjoys sketching bird skeletons. I like that their attraction is primarily intellectual — both are very interested in exploring cutting edge scientific theories. Mary wants to escape her social limitations as a poor woman and the idea that all the education she needs is in the Bible, and Henry wants to escape the empty life of socializing that his wife finds satisfactory. They find this escape in each other, and yet can’t be together, not only because of Henry’s marriage but also because of the wide gulf between their social classes.

Thomas writes well; she keeps the old-fashioned language consistent throughout and in doing so, keeps us as readers firmly within the mindset of the novel. Her choice of Lyme Regis as a setting is also a smart move — it has as much atmosphere and romance here as it did for Austen in Persuasion.

While ostensibly a love story, the romance doesn’t really kick in until about halfway through the novel. Most of the book’s focus was on Mary’s scientific discovery and her and Henry’s struggle for intellectual freedom. I like how Thomas expanded her focus to much more than just a romance; even before they met, Mary and Henry’s intellectual compatibility and shared passion are evident. The romantic tension is therefore mostly external, and it’s just a matter of whether circumstances allow them to be together or not. As such, the wider story arc about scientific curiosity was more interesting.

Curiosity is a good book, very well-written, yet it didn’t really grab me. To be honest, I’m not sure why. It ticked off all the boxes of a good book — interesting characters, relationships complicated by circumstance, consistent, solid writing — but I mostly just found it unexceptional. It was okay, it was solid, but it wasn’t great. In this case, I’m not sure if it’s the mood I was in when I was reading it, or if the narrative pace just felt too constant. If you’re interested in historical, scientific romance with a touch of social commentary, this book may be worth checking out.

Review | Inquisition, Alfredo Colitto

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Alfredo Colitto’s Inquisition begins with an intriguing prologue that reminds me of a fairy tale or a fantasy novel. Three Templar Knights receive mysterious letters, cryptically assuring them that they will find “the secret they seek” in Bologna. This secret is that of alchemy, how to change human blood into iron and, from there, possibly into gold.

Some time later, physican Mondino de Liuzzi is approached by Gerardo, whom Mondino knows as a medical student, but who turns out to be a Templar Knight. Gerardo brings with him a corpse he found of a Templar Knight whose heart had been, literally, turned into iron. Thus Gerardo and Mondino get caught up in the mystery — who killed this Knight and why? How did the killer turn the victim’s heart into iron?

Historical mysteries are usually more about the atmosphere and characters than the action (I’m thinking mostly of C.J. Sansom’s Matthew Shardlake series), but Inquisition is definitely action-packed. Many scenes had Mondino and Gerardo having to punch their way out of tight spots, and honestly a lot of that bored me. I was more intrigued about the mystery of how human blood and tissue can be turned into metal, and given how intelligent and logical Mondino was, I was expecting a very scientific answer along the lines of Michael Crichton and James Rollins. The explanation, as given to Mondino by a female alchemist, turned out vague and more magic-based than I would have liked, and I was disappointed.

The book also focused more on the murder mystery than the alchemical one. Mondino and Gerardo travel to the seedy underworld of their city to investigate the victim’s life, and when a second victim shows up, track down leads related to him as well. Normally, I’m up for an action-packed mystery, but in this case, I was disappointed that the alchemical mystery, which had me excited since the prologue, wasn’t explored as much.

I loved some parts of the book, especially when Mondino uses his medical background to bluff his way into a suspect’s room and interrogate him. I also like how Mondino is conflicted about having violated his Hippocratic oath to prevent a pedophile priest from continuing to harm children. I like Mondino as a character; he’s intelligent and takes care of a sick father. I love one incident in particular that defined Mondino for me — offered his freedom as long as he says a Templar knight committed the murders using sorcery, Mondino hesitates, not because he doesn’t want to blame an innocent man (“he could not sacrifice himself and his family to save Gerardo”), but because it meant “swearing a falsehood” and declaring “something that was contrary to science.” He can always gain absolution from the church, but his reputation in the scientific community would be ruined forever. I like that about him.

I did however end up skimming some parts of the book, and to be honest, I’m not sure why. There were parts that I found boring; perhaps some action scenes dragged on too long. I think the intellectual puzzles in this book were so potentially fascinating that when I see a chase scene or a fight scene, I just think, okay, next please. Colitto also includes several detailed scenes of Mondino practicing medicine; in some cases I found it fascinating, and in others, I found my attention wandering. Other things bothered me as well, like a beggar in the 14th century saying “He stole my stuff!” Nit picky, but the word “stuff” stood out against the more formal language in the rest of the scene.

Still, when we do find out who the killer is, and the motive behind the killings, I found myself absolutely engrossed in the story. I hadn’t guessed the killer or the motive at all, and to be honest, had forgotten most of what the letter in the prologue had said. I re-read the prologue after finding out the killer’s identity and had an “Aha” moment. After the big reveal however, it became a matter of wrapping things up, and I found my attention wandering again.

Overall, not a bad book. Some parts were really exciting, like the reveal of who the murderer is and what the motive is behind the killings. Other parts were just okay. Mondino is an interesting character, definitely a scientist before his time.