Part II, Chapters 22-25: Life and Death Matters

A friend recently pointed out to me that Anna Karenina is the antithesis of the kind of book that people usually read in the summer. And while he's right - anyone who starts a classic Russian novel with hopes for a  Hunger Games is liable to be disappointed - I've found a silver lining to the long-winded nature descriptions and socioeconomic commentary. Namely, that when something the least bit shocking or exciting happens in Anna Karenina, it's ten times as interesting as it would be ordinarily. Kind of like C-3PO and R2-D2 showing up in Sesame Street versus, you know, Star Wars.

Still a better love story than Attack of the Clones.

So when Anna looks Vronsky in the eye and says, "I am pregnant," I flipped out and started screaming, "What? What?" at the book.  Considering that it took them over a hundred pages to start an affair, I'd assumed they'd linger in torment for at least two hundred more before there was any new development. Instead, I was compensated for a tree's worth of stuffy aristocratic dialogue with lines straight out of a daytime soap opera:

"Neither you nor I have looked on our relations as a passing amusement, and now our fate is sealed.  It is absolutely necessary to put an end to the deception in which we are living...Leave your husband and make our life one."

Pretty intense, Tolstoy. Too bad it doesn't go anywhere. Anna is too worried about losing her son to go along with the scheme, and Vronsky quickly shrugs off the news of his impending fatherhood to concentrate on what's really important: winning his horse race. Like the Missouri Tigers' football coach, he knows how preoccupation with the body of a woman can sap even the greatest sportsman's skills.

Suddenly, Andy Roddick's slump makes sense.

So after skedaddling out of the Karenin family's garden, Vronsky heads over to the other lady in his life: the "lean and beautiful" Frou-Frou. They're competing in a steeplechase, which seems to be an obstacle course for horses. Not my thing, but a slight improvement on the Kentucky Derby, where they need big hats, chocolate pie, and 120,000 mint juleps to make everyone forget that it's just a bunch of people riding in circles.

Vronsky has a lot riding on this race (pun most certainly intended). This is his chance to show off in front of Anna and everyone else in Peterburg's upper class, prove that he's not the tubby degenerate his fellow officers take him for, and beat his archnemesis Makhotin. It's hard not to want to root for him. Heck, I think Vronsky's a slimeball and even I wanted him to win, if only to see Frou-Frou emerge victorious over her formidably named counterparts.

It's the same reason I can't pull against UCSC. Go, Banana Slugs!

But this book was written by Leo Tolstoy, and he wasn't in the business of producing heartwarming stories that make you want to hand out free Krispy Kremes to strangers. Hey, do you remember how the dogs in Stone Fox and Where the Red Fern Grows and Old Yeller all died? Do you remember the scene in The Neverending Story when Atreyu's horse sinks to his death in the Swamps of Sadness? Did you dare to hope that the death of beloved pets was a concept unique to children's literature, and that it was finally safe to stop using Kleenex as a bookmark? That smashing sound you hear is your soul being mercilessly crushed:

...Frou-Frou lay gasping before him, bending her head back and gazing at him with exquisite eye. Still unable to realize what had happened, Vronsky tugged at his mare's reigns. Again she struggled all over like a fish, and, her shoulders making the wings of the saddle crackle, she rose on her front legs; but unable to lift her back, she quivered all over and again fell on her side.

I recommend the full scene to those who Nicholas Sparks fans and anyone else who thinks "having a jolly old time" equals "curling up in the fetal position and sobbing until I'm dehydrated." Vronsky's devastation upon finding out that he'd inadvertently broken Frou-Frou's back is so sincere that it made me want to hug the guy, piece of scum or not. It's in honor of his dearly departed horse that today's Official Lit Dish is Carrot Oatmeal cookies, since they combine two favorite equestrian foods. Here's hoping that this death isn't an omen for the future of Anna's pregnancy...

Part II, Chapters 10-15: Manning Up

One thing about Anna Karenina that took me by surprise is how chick-litty it can be. I've barely scratched the surface, and I've already encountered ballroom dancing, lovestruck princesses, weepy tête-à-têtes,  detailed descriptions of gowns, and sentences like this:

Yet, while she looked like a butterfly clinging to a blade of grass, and just about to open its rainbow wings for fresh flight, her heart ached with a horrible despair.

I am speaking as someone who has the entire Sound of Music soundtrack memorized when I say that just typing that sentence made my mouth taste like caramel syrup. There's nothing wrong with a tea party or five, but I've also been wondering when I was going to be able to break out my album of "Misc. Manly Stuff" images for the blog.

Like Olympic athletes! They're the epitome of manly...oh, wait.

My wait is over. Today I plunged into a testosterone-scented pool of hunting expeditions, sex with beautiful women, sowing fields, and -

Hold on. Sex? Yes, that's right, Anna finally gives in and gets it on with Vronsky, after "almost a year" of wheedling. I had to read the part that says this about five times to make sure that it actually happened, because Tolstoy is extremely subtle in his language on this subject. (Or maybe reading Lady Chatterly's Lover in the seventh grade permanently desensitized me to the treatment of coital relations in literature.) He dwells a lot longer on the immediate aftermath, which involves Anna sobbing in all-consuming shame and Vronsky thinking about her in weirdly morbid metaphors.

But in spite of all the murderer's horror before the body of his victim, he must hack it to pieces, hide the body, must use what the murderer has gained by his murder.

The full description is so unsettling that I can't bring myself to insert the clever joke about la petite mort that would otherwise be mandatory. Let's just say that neither had the kind of reaction desirable to their situation, and that Anna should have received sufficient red flags by now that this affair is probably not going to end happily.

Most of these chapters aren't about Vronsky and Anna, though. They're about Levin. More specifically, Levin putting aside his disappointment over the failure of Operation Snag Kitty and developing mad skills in the field of agricultural theory. Sometime I'm going to have to borrow one of those Ag students that N.C. State is crawling with and get a full explanation for his elaborate "human character as a factor in farming equations" idea. Until then, I'll just assume it's brilliant, since he frequently complains that no one else on the farm knows what the heck they're doing. Oh, and before I forget, is Levin an example of manliness, or what? Working like a freakin' Horatio Alger character to dominate in his career field, now that's manly.

Let's hear it for masculine domination of the corporate ladder! What? Well, that's awkward...

Then, what d'you know, Stepan drops by for a hunting-slash-business trip in the country. He's his usual self: hearty appetite, cheery temperament, comparisons of women to bakery items. It's interesting that Levin values him so much as a friend, even when he is completely taken aback by his Stepan's elaboration on the delights of marital infidelity. I have to admit that I'm not sure to what to think about this now that Anna is guilty of the same transgression. Is Stepan less guilty because he genuinely doesn't believe it's wrong, while Anna feels strongly that it is and gives into her temptation anyway? Is Anna more innocent because she feels regretful afterward? Or is adultery just adultery?

Maybe Stepan and Levin get along because they both like hunting. And hey, fighting through a forest to shoot animals and watch them bleed their tiny lives out onto the grass has to be the epitome of manhood.

I give up.

Thanks to today's Official Lit Dish, you can enjoy Russian-style marinated mushrooms just like the kind that Stepan and Levin enjoyed. In pictures, they look exactly like the kind in Rams Head Dining Hall at UNC, which are my third-favorite salad bar item after the hummus and Turkish figs.

Chapters 18-20: Everybody Loves Anna

Hey there, Other Anna! It's nice to meet you after 70 pages of exposition about your brother and his friends, during which you were mentioned a smidgen more frequently than the latest Kidz Bop CD on Pitchfork's Best New Albums page. From the moment you descended from that train carriage, I was almost as captivated as Vronsky by your gray eyes and dark hair and pale complexion and - hold on, we have all that and a name in common? Talk about discovering your literary doppelganger. Although I doubt that the impressions I inspire at public transportation centers could be described with the words "elegance and modest grace."

This is the only picture I could find of myself in a train station.

Okay, one-way conversation with a fictional character is now over. The reality is, while it's nice that Anna's appearance catalyzes all that exposition into a solid storyline, I find the number of characters who fangirl their hearts out over her to be alarming. Just like everybody hates Levin, everybody adores Anna. Especially other women. Vronsky's crusty old mother, who sat with her on the train, adores her.

"Good-bye, my love," answered the Countess. "Let me kiss your pretty face. I speak plainly, at my age, and I tell you simply that I've lost my heart to you."

If that strikes you as the least bit suggestive, then Kitty's reaction to her later on in the story ought to hit you like one of Wile E. Coyote's anvils.

[B]efore Kitty knew where she was she found herself not merely under Anna's sway, but in love with her, as young girls do fall in love with older and married women.

Whether or not Leo Tolstoy had homosexual attractions himself (his autobiographical work Childhood has some pretty strong implications that he did) that trickled into his portrayal of the female opinion of Anna, he makes it easy for us jaded modern readers to draw slashfic-spawning conclusions. After all, we live in a world where people speculate that a Disney princess is a lesbian because she likes archery and doesn't have a boyfriend. Ultimately, it's best left up to each reader as to whether Anna is the subject of romantic or platonic admiration among her gal pals.

Either way, she's no plain Jane.

After Anna gets off the train and endures some gawking by Vronsky (which spurs his mom to drop references to Anna's husband and son, with all the subtlety of Lady Gaga at an awards show), there's a brief interlude due to a gruesome murder. Yup, a man gets sliced in half after he wanders onto the train track. If this were a Dan Brown novel, the incident would launch a clandestine investigation...but since it's a literary masterpiece well known for being tragic, I'm going to hazard a guess that it's foreshadowing instead. I do know one thing, and that's that there's no way a stinker like Vronsky gave a pile of money to the dead man's widow out of Christian sympathy. This guy is trying to win over Anna through one of the oldest tricks ever.

The kaffeeklatsch that Anna and Dolly have later is disappointing if you held hopes that Stepan would have to suffer a little more for his wrongdoings (guilty as charged).  While Dolly gets her Sylvia Plath-meets-The Hours on for a few exciting moments ("What have I to strive and toil for? Why to have children? What's so awful is that all at once my heart's turned, and I have nothing but hatred for him...") her sister-in-law ultimately convinces her to forgive and forget, because those menfolk just can't help themselves, dontcha know.

I would've made her sit through my Girl Power Ballad playlist.

Chapter 20 concludes with the promise of a ball, where there will have to be at least one realization of passionate love, as ordained by the Laws of Balls in Literature. I have a hunch that, based on the sparks already flying between Anna and Vronsky, it will leave Kitty a lot less giddy than she is now. In the meantime, she'd better stay away from this post's Official Lit Recipe, no-bake espresso cookies in honor of Anna and Dolly's heart-to-heart over a coffee tray. She's definitely worked up enough over her first dance of the season without any extra caffeine pumping through her system.

 I'll part with the melancholy quip that Kitty's enthusiasm prompts from our heroine. I think many college students can relate to Anna's words as the scary thing known as Real Life looms before us:

This mist [of happiness], which covers everything in that blissful time when childhood is just ending, and out of that vast circle, happy and gay, there is a path growing narrower and narrower...