Chapters 28-34: Motherhood and Cinnamon Rolls

When I was in the eleventh grade, my English class read a number of famously controversial books (several appear on this list). But during discussion time, it wasn't The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or The Catcher in the Rye that brought us closer than the Cuban Missile Crisis to setting off World War III. That honor went to the less famous novella The Awakening. Why? Because half the class thought that the main character, a woman who behaves recklessly in response to a stifling marriage, was acting selfishly by betraying her duties as a mother. The other half was silk screening Betty Friedan's face on T-shirts.

Not really, but I wanted a segue to showing you this picture of her.

The point of this is that people get fired up over the issue of what parents - particularly mothers - owe to their children. Do they sacrifice their opportunity to make morally questionable choices once they have kids relying on them? Many would say yes, but the issue gets murkier when delving into specifics. I couldn't help thinking about this topic while I read about Anna's homecoming. A fair share of her inner turmoil appears to arise from wanting to live up to her son Seriozha's trust.

Anna experienced...a moral reassurance, when she met his ingenuous, trusting and loving glance, and heard his naive questions.

Anna's lust for Vronsky is much more interesting when you remember that, in addition to being the It Girl everyone loves, she's a mom. And while that role never kept Daisy Buchanan or Scarlett O'Hara from living la vida loco, Tolstoy makes it clear that Anna does not see her kid as a larger, less intelligent replacement for an accessory dog.

Still less cringeworthy than child leashes.

She also genuinely cares about Kitty, which is why she goes to pieces in front of Dolly before she leaves, blaming herself for the way Vronsky ditched his supposed-to-be sweetheart at the ball. Sheesh, these characters take self-hatred to a whole new level. It almost drives Anna to insanity on her train ride home in an interior monologue that reads like something from Alice in Wonderland.

"What's that on the arm of the chair - a fur cloak or some beast? And what am I myself: is it I, or some other woman?"

That's why when she steps off the train and sees Vronsky, I assumed it was a hallucination. But no, it really is Vronsky, who is apparently unaware that following her home is a stalkeresque move worthy of his very own Overly Attached Fictional Boyfriend meme.

Actually, I can think of a few more characters who qualify.

There's an awkward introduction to Anna's husband, who happens to have the same first name as Vronsky (Alexei). Apparently it's a common one in Russia, but it seems like it would've taken Tolstoy two seconds to make up a new one and keep the name thing less confusing than it is already.

Anyway, Alexei Alexandrovich makes Anna's instant attraction to Vronsky much more understandable. He's not unpleasant, but considering that his expressions of affection peak at "You wouldn't believe how I've grown used to you," it's no wonder she melts a little at Vronsky's passionate declarations of love. The woman's been married to a Vulcan for the past decade. Although Vronsky doesn't sound like he's terrific husband material either:

But there was another kind of people...to which [he] belonged: and here the chief thing was to be elegant, magnanimous, daring, gay, and to abandon oneself without a blush to every passion, and to laugh at everything else.

In fact, Vronsky and his hedonistic friends could be the predecessors of the Jersey Shore crew. (Before you argue that great literature should never be compared to MTV, check out this valid opinion that the guido gang and The Great Gatsby aren't that different.) It's certainly interesting to note that he isn't too put off by the fact that his love interest is married. I'm guessing that Anna's inner turmoil is only getting started, considering that she's being wracked with guilt when she and Vronsky haven't done anything more scandalous than talk. In contrast, doing more than talking is all he can think about, since "all his forces...were centered on one thing, and bent with fearful energy toward one blissful goal." Three guesses as to what that is.

It's not those giant letters floating in the background.

Three cheers for finishing Part One! Today's Official Lit Dish is inspired by the bread and cream that Anna's husband eats while rehashing his workday to the bored-out-of-her-skull Anna: cinnamon rolls with vegan cream cheese glaze. That's one hedonistic impulse worth the guilt. Go make some now and eat them in front of your computer as you wait for the Curiosity pictures to load on NASA's website. And enjoy yourself.