Part II, Chapters 26-29: Dysfunction Junction

Poor Alexei Alexandrovich. In the modern day's rising nerdocracy, he could be a sitcom star - the socially awkward workaholic with a sarcastic sense of humor and knockout spouse. Unfortunately for him, he's stuck in a novel where such quirks only solidify his status as the third wheel to Anna and Vronsky's glamorous and impassioned romance.

A term that is henceforth known as "Harry at the Olympics."

 More than anything else, Alexei is a plot device to make his own wife's love affair more exciting, which is why I can imagine him reciting this part of T. S. Eliot's  "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock":

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

And even though he fights this role, choosing to turn his wife's obvious infidelity the same blind eye that Shark Week fans are currently using on anything without gill slits, it eats him up to the point when a friend secretly sends a doctor to check on him. I realize this is a kindly gesture, but who in Tsarist Russia decided that people only qualify for medical treatment if they're having Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus kinds of issues? I mean, all six of Dolly's children had to come down with scarlet fever before she could score some (untrained) assistance from her own family. Kitty got two doctors and a European vacation just for her post-ball angst.

We're a bit more harsh these days.

 Anyway, the doctor tells Alexei that he has a "considerably enlarged" liver and needs exercise, then promptly blabs about the checkup in a flagrant breach of patient confidentiality only made more insulting by the fact that the confidant is Alexei's own head clerk. It's clear from their conversation that they both know what his real problem is, even if he won't admit it to himself. In fact, Anna's little romance appears to be the worst-kept secret in the northern hemisphere since the Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot love triangle.

He did not want to see, and did not see, that many people in society cast dubious glances on his wife...

The situation is so bad that his own son can tell that something is up, and freaks out whenever Alexei drops by to visit Anna before the horse race. (They're vacationing separately for the summer, which is how we know that Vronsky is Anna's baby daddy-to-be.) For all that both his parents talk constantly about how his well-being is their top priority, Seriozha is on the path to becoming a future Don Draper or Rorschach or [insert messed-up character with horrifying childhood here].

Before Jon and Kate, there was Alexei and Anna.

Reading this part of Anna Karenina is like throwing random stuff in the microwave and setting it on "high" - you just know that there's going to be an explosion eventually. I was expecting that Alexei would eventually crack and outright accuse Anna of adultery, or catch Anna and Vronsky in a compromising position à la Lancelot and Guinevere in the Camelot stories. I was completely wrong. Anna tells him on the way home from the race, and if there's a way to politely tell your husband that you're seeing someone else, she does everything but that:

"I am listening to you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can't bear you; I'm afraid of you, and I hate you...You can do what you like to me."

Whoa there, girlfriend. I'm all for the frank sharing of opinions, but I think Alexei deserves a little bit of slack...especially considering that they've been married eight years and she's never before dropped the slightest hint about not being happy. As it is, he's totally taken aback and responds the only way he knows how: unemotionally.

"Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the outward forms of propriety till such time as I may take measures to secure my honor, and communicate them to you."

Alexei Alexandrovich: making this guy look like Oprah since 1837.

 In other words: "Whatevs, just keep it on the DL. TTYL." Too bad couple therapy is a modern concept, because my Spidey sense is telling me that these two aren't done with their miscommunication problems. Anna's emotionalism versus Alexei's stoicism, with sexual infidelity thrown in? There may be no survivors. And on that cheerful note, today's Official Lit Dish is a mix for instant Russian tea. If tea really does have the de-stressing properties that its fans have been touting for centuries, then it's not a stretch to say to that every member of the Karenin clan could do with a cuppa.

Chapters 21-27: Blueblood Blues

Illicit love! Crushed hopes! Gossiping cliques! Impractical poofy gowns!

No, I'm not talking about the backstage drama at a high school production of Oklahoma!. This is something with an even greater share of sweat, tears, and corsets: a ball. Fictional balls never go smoothly, but no one  told Kitty, who seems to thinks that dancing in a pink dress is the ideal way to win a higher social standing and the heart of a handsome man.

Because it worked for Carrie, right?

Of course, it's no surprise for any observant reader when Vronsky zones in on Anna instead. Not after what happened the evening before the ball, when he stopped by the Oblonsky house for exactly long enough to catch a glimpse of her. But for naive young Kitty, the sight of her would-be beau waltzing the night away with Anna is quite a shock. And why not? It's the end of her belief in society's assurance that, as an innocent and beautiful (and aristocratic) maiden, she deserves a "happily ever after" with the perfect husband. Fairy tales that supported this trope were all the rage in Russia at the time. Being upstaged by a much older, married woman blows all the messages they preach out of the water.

Meanwhile, our homeboy Levin is going through his own share of angst now that he's sure Kitty rejected him in favor of Vronsky:

Yes, there must be something disgusting, repulsive about me...What right had I to imagine she would care to join her life to mine? Who am I, and what am I? A nobody, not wanted by anyone, nor of use to anyone.

Even though Tolstoy piles on the self-loathing to the point when I thought he should have titled this book The Sorrows of Young Levin, I feel for the guy, especially when he makes a point to check on his deadbeat brother. Despite Nikolai Levin's history of assaulting young boys, old men, and everyone in between, our Levin is determined to find the good in him somewhere. Personally, I don't blame their other brother from disowning Nikolai, who goes on to scream at his mistress that he's going to beat her when she tries to take away his vodka. What a charmer.

I would question how he got a girlfriend in the first place, but Chris Brown's success at receiving female attention has disillusioned me.

Furthermore, Nikolai's lecture to Levin on the need for a communist revolution is so unconsciously hypocritical that it's hysterical. Here he is, complaining about the plight of workers and bashing his brother for having "aristocratic views," while doing...what, exactly? Oh yeah, that would be drinking himself into oblivion with the money his family sends him. He's the opposite of Stepan: his lifestyle and politics are totally out of sync. As a Mac user who doesn't like corporate acts of evil, I won't be too critical of him on this matter, but it sure isn't winning him brownie points from his actual hardworking brother.

Still, things are looking up for Levin once he finally gets back to his farm, where he resolves to stop expecting that he'll ever have a woman in his life other than his housekeeper and his favorite cow. Freud followers might say this is just as well, since it doesn't take a psychoanalyst to recognize Oedipal undertones in his notion of the perfect woman.

Levin scarcely remembered his mother. His conception of her was for him a sacred memory, and his future wife was bound to be, in his imagination, a repetition of that exquisite, holy ideal of a woman that his mother had been.

Borderline madonna fixation aside, it's no wonder that he's crazy about Kitty - they're both idealists with romanticized notions of courtship and marriage. And, as of now, both of them have had their dreams soullessly crushed. I smell a theme in the works...

Other than to not count your dance offers before they hatch, as Kitty learned the hard way.

Speaking of smelling, this Official Lit Dish is for anyone who likes the aroma of simmering beets. Because Anna leaves the ball before supper is served, I can only guess as to what delicacies the guests enjoy. However, it's absolutely plausible that there's a soup course, and borscht was at that time a soup enjoyed by the Russian nobility and peasants alike. If you're not afraid of brightly colored vegetables, this would be an excellent (and nutritious) meal that matches the color of Kitty's face when she realizes that she has no partner for the mazurka.

More shenanigans coming tomorrow, when (I'll admit it, I peeked ahead) we see what's going on in Anna and Vronsky's heads after this turn of events. Can't wait to wrap up Part One of this eight-part behemoth!

Chapters 12-17: Russian Aristocracy Problems

Is there ever a situation in a fictional work in which the man and woman clue into their mutual sexual tension without all sorts of horrible misunderstandings and angst? Of course not, because muddling through that is half the fun. Even seemingly drama-free couples, like James and Lily Potter or Zoe and Wash on Firefly, were revealed to have rocky starts.

I blame it on the mustache.

I only ask because Tolstoy makes it painfully obviously that Levin is a perfect match for Princess Kitty, who goes on to (first big spoiler alert of the blog) reject his proposal because she's distracted by Vronsky. Vronsky is the Wrong Guy First to Levin's Insecure Love Interest. He's a charming military man with certified mom approval and smoldering good looks. In case the reader is silly enough to actually consider him the better alternative to Constantin "Thank God I'm A Country Boy" Levin, it's immediately established that a) Vronsky is flirting with Kitty without any intention of marrying her and b) he doesn't see any problem with this. I know, neither do the drunk guys on Franklin Street who catcall to the sorority sisters on midnight Sweet Frog frozen yogurt runs, but things were different back then. There's even something kind of cool about a societal disdain for leading girls on, although it does throw a wrench into the casual dating.scene when people draw conclusions like this:

Vronsky openly flirted with Kitty at balls, danced with her, and came continually to the house; consequently there could be no doubt of his intentions.

Anyway, even though Vronsky is a committed bachelor whose ideas about how to confirm the "secret spiritual bond" he feels with Kitty do not involve the elaborately trimmed wedding gowns worn by Russian brides in that era, she is convinced to the contrary. This leads her to deliver Levin a rejection only slightly edged out by "You're joking, right?" on the Scale of Worst Possible Things You Can Say To Someone Who Just Asked To Spend His Life With You. Then he doesn't even get recovery time before he's roped into a hostile social setting with a countess who hates his guts and the big rival himself, Count Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky. Not to mention Kitty's mother, who thinks "Thank God, she's refused him" the moment she sees Levin's dejected face.

Cut to the next day at the Petersburg train station. I'd honestly forgotten all about Anna Karenina herself at this point, despite typing the title a billion times. But at last, she's poised to make an appearance as a guest to Stepan and Dolly's house, with Stepan clearly hoping that his sister can mend relations between him and his wife. Vronsky is also there to meet his mother. And in case Tolstoy didn't make it clear already that Vronsky is despicable, we get this gem:

He did not in his heart respect his mother, and, without acknowledging it to himself, he did not love her...

Dude doesn't love his own mother? Even Darth Vader and Adolf Hitler loved their mothers. Vronsky also isn't winning himself any favors from this reader when he tells Stepan that it's easier to stick to Claras (prostitutes) than carry on a genuine courtship because you risk your money instead of your dignity. If Stepan is the Jude Law of Anna Karenina, Vronsky is the Hugh Grant. He has the chance to get serious with the gorgeous Elizabeth Hurley Kitty, and he'd rather submerge himself in an unsavory and patriarchal system? For shame!

Sadly, no food items are mentioned in these chapters (I guess Stepan and Levin are still digesting those jellied oysters), so my Official Lit Dish is a bit of an extrapolation from the story. The way I see it, once Levin escaped back to his hotel room after his proposal went awry, he probably took refuge in comfort food like the baked Russian pastries called piroshki. They're carb-heavy, easy to eat, and often stuffed with sweets: what better way to soothe a broken heart? Other than taking a walking stick to Vronsky's pretty little souped-up two-wheel drive.

PETA says: Be sure to unharness any innocent horses before enacting your nineteenth-century revenge fantasies.

Chapters 1-5: No Anna, Lots of Jude Law

I am not going to start this by quoting Anna Karenina's famous first line, which is controversial and has inspired its own sociological and statistic principle. Instead, here's a good reason to put this Incredible Hulk of a novel on your reading list: the chapters are short. This might have nothing to do with the actual content of the book, but it makes it a heck of a lot easier to take a break and watch the London 2012 swimming races until Missy Franklin's adorable face is tattooed on your eyelids.

Like the NBC Olympics coverage, Anna Karenina has a greater ratio of political endorsements to teary-eyed young women than I was expecting.

 Anyway, because of the mini-chapters, the first 24 pages weren't painful at all, despite the fact that the title character hasn't actually put in an appearance yet. Nope, so far it's been all about how Prince Stepan Arkadyevich Oblonsky (henceforth known as Stepan) has cheated on his wife, Darya "Dolly" Alexandrovna Oblonsky, with the French governess. That's right: over 130 years before Jude Law made headlines for cavorting behind Sienna Miller's back with his children's nanny, Stepan is trying to win back his woman's favor. The best part of this storyline is that Jude Law is in the upcoming Anna Karenina  movie, even though he plays a different character. Unfortunate implications much? I wonder if he's read the script.

Jude Law is also the voice of Lemony Snicket in the Series of Unfortunate Events movie. As mentioned before, the central theme of Anna Karenina is a plot point in the books. COINCIDENCE OVERLOAD.

 This might come across as somewhat romantic if Stepan actually loved Dolly and felt bad about screwing up. The reality is he's just concerned that she won't be able to run the household properly if she stays mad at him. Even though this is sort of accurate, because their youngest kid has already gotten sick from "unwholesome soup" that her Super Mom powers would apparently have detected otherwise, it definitely puts him in my Literary Chauvinistic Male Pig category beside un-studs like Rhett Butler and any Hemingway hero ever. Let's just say that I was cheering when Dolly ripped him a new you-know-what in a takedown on par with Carly Simon's "You're So Vain."

You are loathsome to me, repulsive! Your tears mean nothing! You have never loved me; you have neither a heart nor a sense of honor! You are hateful to me, disgusting, a stranger - yes, a complete stranger!

...and then she has inward angst about still loving him. But at least she shows some spirit...unlike her husband. For a man who writes racy letters to his French maid-slash-mistress, Stepan is a pretty bland character. He just putters along at his high-end government job (which he got through pure nepotism) and his high-end social life (which he got through being a rich prince and not arguing with people).

Not this kind of prince. Nineteenth-century Russia, like Saudi Arabia, had lots of princes, most of whom didn't inherit the throne or have weddings that inspire graphic novels.

 Tolstoy does more than imply that Stepan is an example of the complaisance that comes with being a member of the bourgeoisie; he calls him out directly for choosing the political affiliation that best suits his lifestyle. Stepan doesn't like traditional family life, going to church, or challenging the media, so - ta da! - he's a liberal.

And so liberalism had become a habit of Stepan Arkadyevitch, and he liked his newspaper, as he did his cigar after dinner, for the slight fog it diffused in his brain.

Hands up, everyone who heard Glenn Beck's voice reading that quote in their head. Somehow I suspect that Tolstoy's views are more in line with Stepan's friend Levin, the earnest but uncultured country boy who thinks that government bureaucracy is ruining everything. As of the end of Chapter 5, they have dinner plans. Is it too much to hope that a tantalizing secret emerges over coffee?

Maybe Stepan/Levin was the Joey/Chandler of its time.

 Speaking of coffee, people in this book are always drinking it, just like in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Since I believe in immersive literary experiences AKA excuses to eat while reading, I Googled "Russian coffee." All the recipes that came up seemed to involve vodka, which a) is not part of my diet and b) is not the best thing to imbibe when most of the characters have easily confused fourteen-letter names. So my Official Lit Dish recommendation for this chapter is a warm mug of your favorite coffee or tea (the latter of which was actually more popular throughout Russian history, even after Peter the Great introduced the "cup of joe" concept to the nation). If you're feeling adventurous, pair it with a delicious scone made from all the canned pumpkin that's been sitting in the pantry since the after-Thanksgiving grocery store sale.

Oh, and what does any of this have to do with Anna Karenina herself? She's Stepan's sister. I'm sure all this will tie into her story...eventually.