War and Peace
by Leo Tolstoy
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Book Reviews of War and Peace
Book Review: I Can't Believe It, But I Want To Read It Again
Summary: 5 Stars
So, no joke, I'm going to review War and Peace? Pointless? Presumptuous? Yes, so feel free to get on with reading this Great Work. Of course I highly recommend that you read War and Peace. Even if I thought it did not live up to expectations, so what? Read it and form your own judgment.
So, mainly for my own use, here's my review. First, the fact that the book is one the Greatest of the Great Books (I mean, it's *War and Peace*) does get in the way of just reading the book on its own terms, perhaps more than any work. But the book's daunting length eventually cures you of that concern. Checking in at 1215 pages (including an Epilogue that is around 80 pages long), reading War and Peace is truly a marathon. I admit that at times it was a slog.
I read the new translation by Richard Pevear, and Larissa Volokhonsky. From my limited research, the husband and wife seem to be generally considered as the best interpreters of Russian literature. How one judges a translation in a language one does not read is problematic, but so be it.
A short summary: In the words of Woody Allen, it involves Russia. Ha-ha. Tolstoy basically follows the lives and fates of three families, all of them rather odd. Of course, hanging over all of them is the Napoleonic War. The story swings back and forth between the home front and the battlefields. Tolstoy's realistic depictions of battle still seem quite modern in many ways - the fog of war, the wildly mixed emotions within each man's breast, and the suddenness of death in battle. He also depicts life of the soldiers and life of the generals.
The Rostovs are a noble family in Moscow who have hit hard times and are sliding toward disgrace. The story especially features the deeply annoying Natasha - what a helpless little drama queen! She moves from one crisis to the next, most of them either of her own making or exacerbated by her. Her brother Nikolai tries to perform heroic feats in battle. Little brother Petya provides the sudden tragedy. Over-protected Ma Ma provides the road to poverty with her witless insistence on living her normal life of luxury. The Rostoves are living examples of the need of proper Russian nobles to maintain appearances and of the men to be seen to protect the women (alas, not all Russian nobles are `proper').
We meet Pierre Bezukhov in the books first pages at a fancy party in comparatively racy Petersburg. He is then and remains always extraordinarily introspective and entirely susceptible to the needs of others. He begins quite poor, but his father the count acknowledges his paternity on his death bed. The count dies and suddenly Pierre is the wealthiest man in town. He also moves from one thing to the next, but never by half-measures; no dabbler is he. He marries disastrously (this wife later dies, during the occupation of Moscow, if memory serves). He joins and devotes himself to the Freemasons. He seeks to live a moral life despite his riches.
Pierre always seems stunned like a duck that has been struck upon the head. `Dazed and confused' might be going it a bit too far, but it gives the general idea. He is a space cadet. He is odd. He seeks out the Borodino battlefield and wonders around it. He narrowly misses being killed. At one point, Pierre ludicrously plans to assassinate Napoleon. Later during the occupation of Moscow, he is taken captive where he meets Karataev, a peasant with more sense than Pierre has ever experienced among the nobility. Well-rounded and grounded is Karataev and some of it rubs off on Pierre. He is eventually freed, falls in love with Natasha, and marries her in the first Epilogue - a fairy tale ending that Tolstoy somehow makes seem inevitable and necessary to the reader and thus acceptable.
The Bolokhonsky's are a noble family of some military notoriety and now ensconced at their Bald Hills Estate. At one time, son Andrei is to marry Natasha Rostov, but the demands of Andrei's strange father manage to chill that idea (and then Natasha totally destroys it with an ill-conceived and idiotic fling). When war comes, Andrei signs on as aide-de-camp to Kutuzov. Andrei is intoxicated with the idea of glory and honor. He does lead an heroic charge and later organizes an artillery squadron's even more heroic stand, but Andrei is seriously wounded. His near-death experience sends him spiraling downward. His love for Natasha flares up again, but then he is mortally wounded. Carried home, Andrei dies a long and painful death in her care.
Tolstoy greatly admires the Russian general Kutuzov, who seems to have a mixed reputation among historians. He derides the `genius' Napoleon. On the whole, however, Tolstoy eschews the Great Man approach to history. He regards the outcome of wars as controlled by great forces. In the second epilogue (Yes, there are really two epilogues!), Tolstoy makes it clear that he believes a divine power is the moving force behind man's actions. He seems not mean, however, that this control occurs in a specifically direct way with the Big Guy with the Beard directing each step. As these things always do, the attempt to reconcile an almighty god with man's free will becomes hopeless. Tolstoy would have done the reader a favor by leaving out the second epilogue. He should have left it, as he had developed through the course of the book, his rather fatalistic view that the great streams of history so control events that the ability of individual people to change its course is extremely limited.
I have left great swaths of the book untouched. Suffice to say that I am already beginning to think that I need to re-read the book, just a few days after rejoicing when I at last turned the final page. The book is so vast that I begin to feel that one only gets a general grasp on the first reading.
Book Review: Good translation, possibly flawed
Summary: 4 Stars
Tolstoy, Leo. War and Peace. Trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. New York: Knopf, 2007.
There is a mass of conflicting opinion on Pevear and Volokhonsky's translation of War and Peace, which appears to center primarily on two issues: the English style, which is less than eminently literary, and the retention of Tolstoy's French in the text with footnoted translations. Before dealing with them, however, I'll briefly describe the edition.
It's a big book, at xviii + 1273 pp., and tastefully presented. It includes a useful introduction by Pevear (which should be read before criticizing the translation), an appendix containing Tolstoy's 1868 essay "A Few Words Apropos of the Book War and Peace," endnotes, an "Historical Index," and a plot summary. The endnotes are denoted by superscript numerals in the text, the footnotes by the usual sequence of asterisk, dagger, etc. I found the endnotes very useful: they elucidate the obscure details of the period, often mentioned by Tolstoy, which only a specialist would know. Unfortunately, I noticed several typos, probably ten or more; and suprisingly for Knopf, the "and" in "War and Peace" is capitalized in both places on the dust jacket, yet not on the spine. I hope the dust jacket has been corrected in future printings. Although these minor details didn't detract from my enjoyment of the story, they did detract from the pleasure I was expecting in owning a well-produced copy of a great book.
Now for the contentious issues. The first I am not qualified to judge because I know no Russian. I first read War and Peace in the Maudes' version - I have never read Garnett or Briggs - and fell in love with it. From what I remember, it seemed more literary and I believe it did read more smoothly than P and V, which often breaks the rules of good English style (and pains my ear). But if some reviewers are right that it echoes the Russian, then I'd rather read a sometimes awkward but faithful English version than a polished but misleading one. There is a fine line, however, between faithfulness and bad style - I'm reminded of the old dictum that, when translating from Latin to English, if one language must yield to the other, Latin should yield to English; and when translating from English to Latin, if one language must yield, English should yield to Latin. Of course, unless I learn Russian, I'll never know whether P and V transgressed this rule.
As for retaining Tolstoy's French - remember that Tolstoy interspersed Russian with bits of French for a reason, and that P and V are merely following the practice of all the Russian editions by printing the French as Tolstoy wrote it and footnoting translations. It's interesting that apparently Tolstoy faced the same criticism when the book was published that P and V face today: it's pedantic, it's clumsy, it's a pain to glance back and forth from the text to the footnote, etc.; and in a way it is. (He defends himself on p. 1218 of P and V's edition in "A Few Words Apropos of the Book War and Peace.") But to translate all Tolstoy's French along with the Russian into English, without alerting the reader in any way, is to ruin what Tolstoy was trying to accomplish by showing the Russian nobility's dependence on a foreign tongue. Princess Marya's friend Julie, for example, a Russian (but significantly called only by a French name), doesn't even know how to say "un peu amoureux" in her native language. I think the clumsiness of the footnotes is worth it, because it preserves Tolstoy's intentions - the English editions which translate War and Peace as if the whole book were in one language lose an essential dimension of the work - but I admit that for those who don't read French, the footnotes are a pain. Of course, for those who do read French, it's great fun: I especially enjoyed being exposed to new idiomatic usage.
All in all, I think the prospective reader of War and Peace who doesn't know French should probably read it first in the Maudes' version (not Garnett or Briggs), to avoid being excessively frustrated by the footnotes, and only then move on to P and V. I give it four stars because as an English speaker totally ignorant of Russian, I ultimately don't know whether to ascribe its awkwardness to bad translation or to faithfulness to the original.
Book Review: A review in one word: WOW
Summary: 5 Stars
Potential reader: do not be daunted by the length of W&P! At over 1200 pages, this is, truly, a long work. Nonetheless, it is worth every second spent. I cannot comment on particular translations personally, but I am led to believe this one (the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation) is the best, based on various recommendations from critics, such as James Wood's excellent review in the New Yorker. On to the book itself:
With each page, I must confess my jealousy of Tolstoy grew immensely. By the end, one sits in sheer awe of the Master's writing ability. By far the most notable strength of Tolstoy's is his ability to craft characters; I have read no other author outside of Shakespeare and Milton (with his Satan from "Paradise Lost") able to create real men and women as well as Tolstoy. I cannot claim to be a Shakespeare expert, but I would rate Tolstoy's character-crafting even higher than the Bard's, though I am aware this is not a popular judgement.
Pierre, a corpulent and intelligent misfit in Russian high society; Prince Andrei, a dark, pessimistic, and arrogant (yet strangely tender) nobleman; and Natasha Rostov, a caring, complex, and often infuriating young woman, are the three standouts. To be sure, there are myriad other characters of interest (Nikolai Rostov, Princess Marya, Field Marshal Kutuzov, etc.), but the three aforementioned go beyond mere characters, metamorphosing into real, flesh-and-blood human beings. All three are fictional, unlike many of the other characters, and yet all three are more lifelike than perhaps any other literary creations.
Tolstoy's powers go further, however. The language is wonderful; though a translation, the explanatory notes offered at the beginning by Richard Pevear give one a greater sense of Tolstoy's language, especially his use of repetitions; his "readings" of characters expressions (and sometimes those of inanimate objects) also work wonderfully.
One thing that might irk those who are not overly familiar in philosophical reading are Tolstoy's interpolated philosophical essays. The whole second Epilogue is a long essay on the Philosophy of History, as are chunks of the last two books. I assure the potential reader with all my heart that, even if he does not particularly enjoy these essays, the novel is worth it and warrants reading. Being a student of philosophy, I found the essays quite fascinating (notably Hegelian), but even if one despises them, the story, characters, and every other aspect of WAR AND PEACE makes repeated reading well worth it.
Along with the wonderful Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the profound Jorge Luis Borges, and the darkly insightful Fyodor Dostoevsky, Tolstoy is at the top of my list of novelists (alright, Borges isn't a novelist, but close enough!). And yet, there is something that places the Count well above even the strengths of the others, and makes WAR AND PEACE a far greater novel than even "One Hundred Years of Solitude" or "Crime and Punishment." That something is the characters, it is Pierre, it is Prince Andrei, it is Natasha or Nikolai or Kutuzov. Any one of Tolstoy's characters would warrant a marvelous rating; all of them combined make WAR AND PEACE, by a long shot, the greatest novel I have yet read.
To close, I echo Russian novelist Isaak Babel: "If the world itself could write, it would write like Tolstoy." Truer words have never been spoken of him, and I feign not outdo them.
Book Review: Essential -- a staggering achievement
Summary: 5 Stars
It's hard to overstate the case for this translation as being essential. It is also hard to avoid hyperbole in its praise. While it might not be the easiest one to read, Pevear and Volokhonsky (P&V) have succeeded in a virtual recreation, in English, of Tolstoy's masterpiece on many apparent levels, and on some other very subtle ones. Abstruse as some of their resultant syntax might be on occasion, the beauty of this English prose and utter faithfulness to every aspect of Tolstoy's apparent intentions is remarkable and overwhelming. Viewing the work as a vast proem gives ample opportunity for P&V elucidation of the symmetrical structures in the work. From the use of alliterative micro-sentences like "Silence ensued." and "Drops Dripped." to the almost obsessive repetitions of phrases, we can begin to appreciate Toltoy not merely as a narrative genius, but a Miltonic architect and chiastic formalist. The choice of unusual, sometimes haunting words ties chapters together. For example, in the description of a sick, dysfunctional bee-hive, given a chapter's space by Tolstoy, bees are described as being "laden" or "unladen," ("empty") with pollen. When, in the next chapter, looters pillaging the ruined hulk of Moscow's carcass, are described using these identical adjectives, there can be no mistaking Tolstoy's metaphor.
Could it be accidental that the sardonic discussion of the numerological reduction of Napoleon's French title to the cabalistic value 666 (and Pierre's contortions to do the same with his moniker) appears on pages 665 and 666 of this edition?
The use of all the French seems to be a necessary obstacle; the effort to plough through beaucoup de mots français, might, in Tolstoy's Christian ethic, reflect Hopkins's injunction: "Sheer plod makes plow down sillion shine." Tolstoy apparently wanted the French, even if it occludes, as an essential element to his prose. Knowing who speaks French, and when, enhances one's knowledge of a character's rank in society, his or her's inclinations, and reveals much nuance of the dialog. P&V present all of the odd variations of a Russion/French mix: Russians trying to speak French (i.e. incompetently, or ironically), French trying to blunder through Russian; even Denisov's speech impediment is carried over in his occasional mutterings in "Fghrench." Being thorough about the French is also justified in the dramatic structure: When Pierre is captured, at the end of the devastation of Moscow, his humanity reaches out to his captors in French - captors who at their core are painted with sympathy. But, with the sudden scene switch to the comforts of soiree life in St. Petersburg, in a jarring apposition to the privations of Moscow, the casual French dialogue seems especially damning of the frivolity and shallowness of social creatures impervious to Moscow's sacrifice.
Having read both the Dunnigan and the Garnett translations concurrently while reading this one (for months!), I can't imagine not owning and re-reading P&V's definitive edition. Ideally, one can read Dunnigan's easy prose style in Signet's inexpensive book (with the teeny-tiny print), while enjoying the manifold literary dimensions of this breathtaking translation. Bravo!
Book Review: Not good/actually it's 9 of 16.
Summary: 3 Stars
I have read that Richard Pevear does not know Russian, but merely edits his wife's translation. Okay.
Pevear calls WAR AND PEACE "daunting". It isn't. It's merely overwritten, wordy,redundant, repetitious, chronologically clumsy, and loaded with structural defects, writer's errors and digressions. Tolstoy himself called it "verbose", and said it had too much that was "superfluous". I agree with Tolstoy.
Pevear refers to Pierre as "a singular man", but in fact he was somewhat commonplace and something of a dope. Tolstoy thought Dolokov was his most interesting character and again I agree with him. Pevear lumps Dolokov with "mediocrities" and calls him "ordinary". Even though he drank an entire bottle of rum on a window ledge for a bet, was an accomplished duellist, stopped the retreat and led the Russian win at Schongraben,ran a gambling house, worked for the Persian monarch, and led a band of partisans that drove Napoleon out of Russia! Some "ordinary!"
Pevear points out Tolstoy's repetitions of words, but I don't see that as objectionable. He neglects entirely Tolstoy's chronic repetitions of sentences (even in the same paragraph or on the same pages), paragraphs, even entire ideas. I mean, how many times do you want to be told that history makes great men, not the other way around? After the 6th time or so, one's eyes glaze over.
Pevear claims that Tolstoy created "a new form", but that's just nonsense. A cop-out for people who are in denial and don't want to face the fact squarely that WP is just not very well written. And Tolstoy himself claimed that the form of WP was in keeping with Gogol, Dostoevsky, and other Russian contemporaries.
Pevear is good at pointing out the inadequacies of other translations, and I couldn't find anything to disagree with. (Though I was interested to note that he didn't criticize Dole, which is my favorite.) But this translation commits greater sins by being too literalistic. The Pevears choose words that are anachronistic, or bundles of words that fail to convey meaning, but merely obscure it. Moreover it is not enough to merely translate words-- syntax, grammar, and meaning must also be translated. And there is altogether too much French. I mean, this is supposed to be a translation, right? If they were translating Confucius, would they give us long passages in Chinese?
And Pevear leaves Kutuzov off the list of Principal Characters. Now how on earth could one do that?
This is a good translation for people who like it, and there's nothing wrong with that. And it's a good translation for Americans living in France, like Pevear.
The standard--although it is not my favorite translation--in terms of the overall balance of translation, graphics, and design, continues to be the Maude Inner Sanctum edition of 1942. And it wouldn't hurt to augment that with the 1922 Oxford Maude.