Le roman de Tolstoï

Prince Oblonsky, Anna's brother and Dolly's husband, is a great guy to have at a party: he loves a good joke, he makes other people feel good about themselves, and he mingles with the best of them. Prince Oblonsky, however, is not such a great guy to go to if you need any kind of serious emotional depth. After all, after doing his best to arrange his own sister's divorce, he immediately starts imagining what kind of jokes he can make out of the whole thing to his society buds.

Oblonsky is an example of what you get when you have a character that's heavy on sentiment but light on real emotion. Consider Part 1, Chapter 11, when he gets choked up over Dolly's anger at him when he cheats on her. But in the same breath, he starts feeling for his mistress, the governess. He can't settle on any one feeling for very long, because none of his feelings are that meaningful..

Nothing particularly bad happens to Oblonsky, despite all of his adultery – he gets the job that he had been hoping for at the end (in Part 8, Chapter 2), and he and his wife continue their dysfunctional marriage. It's only characters with real emotional depth that change over the course of the novel – for better or for worse.

Oblonsky's character is fixed, which is what makes him such a great contrast for characters like Anna and Levin. It all comes down to literary algebra: it's much easier to measure a variable (i.e., a character who changes) when you've got a constant (i.e., a character who stays the same). Because Oblonsky doesn't change over the course of the novel, we're forced to wonder, why can he sleep around without ruining his life, unlike Anna? Why does his adultery not hurt his career at all, while Karenin's cheating wife ruins Karenin's career? Minor characters like Oblonsky serve as comparisons to major characters, so we can see their issues even more clearly.

Stiva Oblonsky

Stiva sets the novel in motion, not only in terms of plot—as the domestic upheaval caused by his affair with the family's governess brings Anna to Moscow, and thus to Vronsky—but also in terms of theme. Stiva embodies the notion that life is meant to be lived and enjoyed, not repressed by duties. He lives for the moment, thinking about responsibility only later, as his constant financial problems remind us. His dazed reaction to being chastised for adultery is not so much regret at his wrongdoing but rather regret at being caught. Indeed, even after Dolly forgives Stiva, he does not stop carrying on with other women. He does not feel any duty toward his wife and family that constrains his freedom.

Despite Stiva's actions, the novel does not portray him as exceptionally villainous. On the contrary, he represents an ordinary man in 19th century Russia. He is kind and jovial and genuinely loves his wife and family, yet he feels entitled to have sex with whomever he pleases. This apparent paradox in his character highlights the patriarchal nature of Russian society at the time. Stiva is essentially free to enjoy himself, while his wife is expected to endure his affairs in good-natured silence. Stiva nonetheless hides his affairs because he recognizes that he has a duty to be faithful to his wife, however lightly he—and society—may regard that duty.

Stiva's affair with his family's governess sets the stage for Anna’s much more dramatic struggle between private passion and social obligation. Like Anna, Stiva seeks out love and satisfaction in any way that is personally meaningful for him. But the similarity ends there. Stiva is far shallower than his sister, and lacks her emotional self-reflection and passionate intensity. His love affairs are trifles to him, whereas Anna’s becomes a matter of life and death to her. Stiva is not a dynamic character in the novel—he does not change. He is never punished for his sins and never improves his behavior. In short, Stiva’s constancy brings into relief the extraordinary changes—moral, spiritual, and psychological—that Anna undergoes.

Matthieu a écrit:Mais je comprends que cela puisse dérouter certains.

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- C'est trop tard, murmura-t-elle avec un sourire.
Elle était allongée immobile, les yeux si grands ouverts qu'elle croyait elle-même en voir l'éclat dans l'obscurité.

Ce qui pour Wronsky avait été pendant près d’un an le but unique et suprême de la vie, pour Anna un rêve de bonheur, d’autant plus enchanteur qu’il lui paraissait invraisemblable et terrible, s’était réalisé. Pâle et tremblant, il était debout près d’elle, et la suppliait de se calmer sans savoir comment et pourquoi.

« Anna, Anna ! disait-il d’une voix émue, Anna, au nom du ciel ! » Mais plus il élevait la voix, plus elle baissait la tête. Cette tête jadis si fière et si gaie, maintenant si humiliée ! elle l’aurait abaissée jusqu’à terre, du divan où elle était assise, et serait tombée sur le tapis s’il ne l’avait soutenue.

« Mon Dieu, pardonne-moi ! » sanglotait-elle en lui serrant la main contre sa poitrine.

« Trop tard, trop tard, » pensa-t-elle avec un sourire. Elle resta longtemps ainsi, immobile, les yeux ouverts et croyant les sentir briller dans l’obscurité.

- C'est trop tard, murmura-t-elle avec un sourire.
Elle était allongée immobile, les yeux si grands ouverts qu'elle croyait elle-même en voir l'éclat dans l'obscurité.

"It's late, it's late," she whispered with a smile. A long while she lay, not moving, with open eyes, whose brilliance she almost fancied she could herself see in the darkness.

«Claro», pensó ella con una sonrisa. «Es muy tarde ya...»
Permaneció largo rato inmóvil, con los ojos muy abiertos, cuyo resplandor le parecía ver en la oscuridad.

"Es ist zu spät, es ist schon zu spät!" flüsterte sie lächelnd. Sie lag lange regungslos mit offenen Augen da, und es kam ihr vor, als könne sie selbst den Glanz ihrer eigenen Augen in der Dunkelheit sehen.

— Поздно, поздно, уж поздно, — прошептала она с улыбкой. Она долго лежала неподвижно с открытыми глазами, блеск которых, ей казалось, она сама в темноте видела. (Google Traduction)

Spoiler:

Marina a écrit:un film qui soit moins ennuyeux que le livre.

I missed a lot in this book: a storyline, a structure in the story

the book is called AK, therefore she should be in the center of the story.

For me it's not comprehensible why she and Wronsky fell for each other,

Tolstoy is not able to explain the development of their feelings.

And he skipped from changing some glances to being pregnant as if there had been some pages missing in my book

Tolstoy tells in lengh how W. and AK meet several times, talk only a few words, mostly just exchange glances and suddenly comes the scene when W. visits AK at home and she tells him that she is pregnant.

the main characters of a love story should be sympathetic, Wronsky isn't.

On the other hand there was too much farming (when finished reading, the reader should be able to run a farm) ... and too much politics which has nothing to do with the story of AK.

There IS a disturbing gap in the story, a small hint that they have been together would have done. Perhaps Tolstoy just forgot. (just kidding)

Maybe, but he is just not on my wavelength.

You obviously see/read the book with other eyes than me.

Tolstoy describes the feelings of AK and W. quite extensive but anyway I'm not able to understand AK really. It's too theatrical, nobody behaves like that. The result is that I don't feel with her.

I very much liked the very first scene. Not only because Vronsky is in the centre. The whole scene is beautifully written, so near to the reality of couples/families. And this very first scene has a bit of a 'twinkle' ... means: not so deadly serious written. Sadly it's the only scene which is like that.

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