anna karenin

Surrounding me, on my too-small-overflowing desk, are three very important (and possibly the most important) things in my life at the moment:

1. Tissues (I seem to have adopted a horrible cold that won't let me alone).
2. A Cup of Tea (since I am not addicted to cigarettes I figure I'm allowed to be addicted to tea).
3. 'Anna Karenin'.

My lime green, semi-scruffy, 'Penguin Popular Classics' copy of 'Anna Karenin' contains 100% recycled paper so not only is the reader of this book allowed to feel smug because he/she is reading Tolstoy, but he/she is also being environmentally friendly whilst being smart and bookish. I have been lugging this green brick around and self-satisfiedly whipping it out at bus-stops and on trains partly because - I'm not going to lie - I'm impressed with myself for reading Tolstoy... but mainly because a). If I ever want to finish this book I have to read it at every spare moment and b). I genuinely am enjoying it.

Tolstoy is not that difficult nor that terrifying. I think my fear of Russian artists began with my childhood devotion to ballet. Russian ballerinas are, in a word, terrifying. I had good reason to fear them. They are perfect and tiny. I think as a book 'Anna Karenin' might possibly be perfect but it is definitely not tiny. So I guess it makes sense that, as a tall girl, I feel quite comfortable around tall stories. Tiny things still make me nervous. And Anna Karenin herself seems (in my mind at least) quite stately and statuesque which is one of the few things I love about her.

I haven't quite made up my mind about Anna, whether I pity, adore or hate her but I think that's ok. I haven't finished the book of course, but thus far I have lost my heart to Levin. Sweet, complicated Levin. I'm glad he got Kitty, even though she seems slightly simple-minded. I know the story will end sadly but I really hope Kitty and Levin remain happy.

My friend Dora (who ironically is about half my height) and I were chatting about the book earlier today and we sheepishly agreed that it is basically a Russian aristocratic soap opera. Now, I know 'soap opera' is a dirty word (pun intended) but it's a very very good and brilliant soap opera. These character's lives are so absorbing that I really do wonder what they're up to when I'm not reading. The other soap opera-ish element is the deliciously short chapters. I love the way this book is divided every couple of pages by a friendly number so as not to dishearten but rather encourage your slow trek through the papery plot.

I have come to the conclusion that I couldn't quite reach with 'Middlemarch', - that Tolstoy is completely worth it and not scary at all. Eliot still scares me.

Hopefully, I will finish it this weekend and I have been saving up a much-awaited Terry Pratchett as a reward for my Russian conquest. And it's a Granny Weatherwax one too and those are my favourite...

(Imagine Anna Karenin and Granny Weatherwax in the same room! Ha!)