War and Peace Review

I’ll admit, War and Peace is one of those classic books that in large part maintains its formidable presence in the cultural zeitgeist because of its classic status, and that, like a few other classics that I’ve read over the years, it ended up on my reading list in part because I wanted to know whether all the fuss is justified.  For as often as it is referenced, I’ve met few people who could actually describe what it is about, and fewer who have read it.  Is this, then, a classic by inertia, or does it deserve its continued stature in the literary world?

For those who don’t know, War and Peace is an epic of the Russian experience of the Napoleonic Wars in the early nineteenth century, specifically the experiences of a handful of Russian aristocrats during that dynamic interval.  There’s an old joke about Russia having only three exports – art, vodka, and communism – and only two of those being worth anything, but, kidding aside, there is something about Russian art, whether it be orchestral music, operas, ballets, or books, that has an appealing drama and timelessness.  This is on display even in recent works, like Laurus, and it may be part of why War and Peace endures.

Far from the longest book I’ve read, even this year, War and Peace has a density to it that makes it a slower read that you might expect just based on the page count.  It luxuriates, meandering through lives and small events that stack up into occasional flashes of intense conflict.  Instead of following a central plot thread all the way through in a direct fashion, as a modern novel would, Tolstoy leads the reader on a winding path that, while you’re walking it, can feel unfocused, but that somehow still conveys a sense of progress, and then everything is brought into focus during those flashes, whether the conflict be interpersonal or international.  I found that I appreciated the time the book takes, rather than rushing through the events like a sprinter intent only upon the finish line.

Tolstoy presents all of this through a third person omniscient lens, with a narrator who has a certain detached cynicism about the whole affair.  This narrator is, I suspect, little removed from Tolstoy himself, if the historiographical essays that he intersperses with the actual story are anything by which to conclude.  When telling the story, the narrator presents most events frankly, making the occasional highlight of a character’s thinking as being counter to what the narrator might consider sensical both more impactful, and less preachy.  The essays, though, are an unfortunate distraction from the novel, and I wound up skipping most of them.  Tolstoy apparently was obsessed with historiography, and the assigning of causes to historical events, and these essays reflect that pseudoscientific pursuit, adding nothing to the story and serving most as a distraction, unless you happen also to be interested in nineteenth century historiography.

While the writing is good, it did not leap out at me as remarkable, and is overall fairly transparent prose; it is worth noting, though, that the novel was originally written in Russian, and thus it can be difficult to judge the quality of the writing in English as opposed to the quality of the translation.  For an epic historical drama, Tolstoy’s presentation is, throughout, matter-of-fact in most respects, but this does not detract from the reader’s interest in the characters, who I found distinctive, well rounded, and memorable.  Only one, Prince Andrew’s father, struck me as being closer to a caricature, and even he had some dynamism.  There are many named characters, which shouldn’t intimidate any regular reader of fantasy – the fact that some of them are referred to by the same name can be, at times, confusing, but only if you’re trying to skim.

It is difficult to say if I would have found War and Peace as interesting as I did if it were not for the historically interesting aspect, since it covers a period and region with which I am minimally familiar.  Not for its history alone did I appreciate it, but that was a notable aspect.  Well presented, with strong, realistic characters, War and Peace is a polished package that I don’t regret spending my time reading…but that I also don’t see myself rereading.  Tolstoy’s peculiarities aside (historiographical essays and a preoccupation with female mustaches come to mind (I thought mentions of the latter were an exaggeration, until I actually read the book…)), the subject matter seems the main reason for its initial success, and its treatment of enduring human themes enables it to endure.  Then again, there are other books that cover those themes.  Thus, I am torn in my final recommendation.  In the end, you may have to read it and make your own conclusions.