Read-along – Anna Karenina (8 of 14)
Part Five, Chapters 7-20 – and Aleksandr Voronsky on Art
Dear Anna Karenina readers,
We’ve finished the eighth instalment of the novel. Here are my impressions:
Please do share your thoughts in the comments below!
In 1925, the Soviet critic Aleksandr Voronsky wrote an essay ‘On Art’, which discusses the artist Mikhailov in Anna Karenina.
Voronsky had been a friend of Trotsky during the October Revolution. Under Stalin, however, he fell increasingly out of favour. He was arrested in 1929 and then again in 1937, as part of the Great Purge. His name was on a death list and his trial lasted minutes; he was shot later the same day, on 13 August 1927.
Voronsky – (whose name seems particularly suitable for a discussion of Anna Karenina) – first uses the Mikhailov episode, and specifically the serendipitous spot of candle-grease, to define what he calls artistic intuition:
In intuition, necessary ideas and opinions are formed in the sphere of the unconscious. They erupt onto the surface of consciousness suddenly, immediately and unexpectedly. . . . If such is the nature of intuition, and it is, then in L. N. Tolstoy’s story about Mikhailov’s creativity we have the most typical example of artistic intuition. We are particularly convinced by the fact that the artist suddenly felt, sensed and inwardly understood that the figure was well defined. The artist can then think through and logically explain why the figure ‘defined itself,’ or he can turn out not to be able to do this; but primarily, and most fundamentally, this ‘suddenly’ is decisive. It guides the artist, it puts an end to searches and hesitation, and the artist then begins to work firmly, quickly and confidently.
Then he discusses what Tolstoy means by Mikhailov ‘removing the veils’ as he works:
For Tolstoy the basic task for an artist lies not in notorious technique, but in his special gift of insight. Only one who sees with his own eyes and hears with his own ears what is unique and particular in his surroundings is a genuine artist. And these special insights reveal themselves only to him. The realist writer does not dream up, invent or create fantastic worlds; he doesn’t engage in free play of the imagination, nor does he seek embellishments for their own sake. It is as if he were reading the secret code inherent in things, people and events. The goal of the artist is not to describe or tell a story masterfully and wonderfully. No matter how well he has mastered his palette, no matter how accurately and thoroughly he has described something, no matter how good a storyteller he is, he will be an unproductive artist, much like the fig tree by the roadside, if he doesn’t have the ability to read this secret code in his own way, if he doesn’t look at the world in his own way and see something which no one has seen before him.
And finally, Voronsky points out that Tolstoy’s presentation of art in Anna Karenina is truer and more honest than in his non-fiction polemic What is Art? (1898), written twenty years later, after Tolstoy had renounced fiction in favour of religion:
In his book What is Art? L. N. Tolstoy viewed the distinguishing feature of art to be the fact that it, art, is a way of communicating between people by means of feelings. G. V. Plekhanov was correct in objecting to this formulation: ‘It is not true . . . that art expresses only people’s feelings. No, it expresses both their feelings and their thoughts, but expresses them not abstractly, but in living images. Herein lies its main distinguishing feature’ (Unaddressed Letters). . . . The definition of art which flows from the wonderful pages where [Tolstoy] describes Mikhailov’s acquaintance with Vronsky and Anna confirms Plekhanov’s definition of art, and not that which Tolstoy provided in his book about art. From all that Tolstoy told us about the process of artistic creativity, it follows that genuine realistic art, in ‘removing the veils’ from living reality, does this, unlike science, by means of images; and unlike religion, these images are neither whimsical nor fantastic. Herein lies the distinguishing feature of art. By defining art as a means of emotional infection, Tolstoy acted to the advantage of his own religious and metaphysical views. He wanted to subordinate art to religion, for religion, too, is a means of emotional infection, particularly in its latest stages. Here Tolstoy spoke not as a realist and an artist, but as a thinker and an idealist.
You can read Voronsky’s whole essay here.
This month’s instalment also presents a beautiful portrait of the early days of Levin and Kitty’s marriage, as Katy Sammons mentioned yesterday in this lovely post.
On the same subject, I wanted to share this short blog post about the ‘Mystery of Marriage’ by Brandon Spun of Same & Other.
Brandon describes how Levin is initially frustrated by Kitty when she accompanies him to visit his dying brother Nikolai, but that, remarkably,
It is Kitty who in her wisdom, in her concern for the practical realities of the body and bodily habiliments, brings warmth and light into this dreadful scene. Her care for conversation, linens, laundry, food and medicine, her courageous and hopeful presence spans the awful gulf, bridges the worlds of the living and dying in these final moments. All her feminine mystery, all her seeming superfluity, becomes at this moment indispensable to the brothers. There are other remarkable aspects of her person and her activity: her social background, her previous experience at a German Spa, the fact that this is her first meeting with Nikolai. But what matters most here is simply that the absurdity of death is transfigured by her presence.
For Brandon, Tolstoy is making a profound observation about human relationships.
Tolstoy depicts the true mystery of marriage, of otherness and unity in these moments. Amidst all the challenges of married life, and yes, of life in general, the discovery and surrender to such mysteries marks a journey into a richer and more wondrous world.
You can read his whole piece here.
I hope you enjoy the next instalment of Anna Karenina. On 26th September we will discuss Part Five, Chapters 21-33. These chapters formed the ninth instalment of the novel, first published – after an eight-month hiatus – in the Russian Messenger in December 1876.
For reference, here are links to our previous Anna Karenina posts:
The Schedule (18 December 2024)
Leo Tolstoy (3 January 2025)
0. Introductions (10 January)
1. Part One, Chapters 1-23 – and Nabokov on Time (31 January)
2. Part One, Chapters 24-34, Part Two, Chapters 1-11 – and John Sutherland on Anna’s English novel (28 February)
3. Part Two, Chapters 12-29 – and Sergei Eisenstein at the races (28 March)
4. Part Two, Chapters 30-35, Part Three, Chapters 1-12 – and the Mowing Scene (25 April)
5. Part Three, Chapters 13-32 – and the Mirror of the Revolution (30 May)
6. Part Four, Chapters 1-17 – and Nabokov’s double nightmare (27 June)
7. Part Four, Chapters 18-23, Part Five, Chapters 1-6 – and the Mystery of Crowning (25 July)
Next week, Read the Classics will change format: here are more details. If you would like to join the monthly read-alongs, but can’t afford a paid subscription, please just let me know and I’ll send you a gift subscription.







At this point I'm wondering why LT didn't call his novel 'Husbands and Wives' - or maybe 'Husbands and Wives and Others' or simply 'Marriage '.
The set up feels not unlike comic operetta or musical comedy where you have the headline lovers with another couple as comic relief. Levin and Kitty go beyond comic relief, but they do raise a smile on a regular basis.
Life in Venice seems so shallow - with Vronsky beginning to realise that - whereas Levin and Kitty are dealing with real life. Happy Ever After never felt convincing and Levin and Kitty are living proof of that. Of course, Anna and Vronsky are going to find that out for themselves.
The Mikhailov section is great. I was taken with the way we can both see the painter's point of view - and get insight into creativity - but also think he's a bit tiresome (at least I thought so). I could certainly see why Anna and Vronsky didn't exactly like having him around.
And poor old Vronsky (I'm still surprised to find me saying that) not only is his painting not that good, we also get a comment about his bald patch!
And a child is on the way. Children - or motherhood, perhaps - seem to be an important part of the story. Anna has abandoned one child, so we can expect Kitty to be a sharp contrast.
I'm gripped!
I thought it was pretty timeless to watch Levin’s opinion on Kitty evolve from “jeez, all she cares about is caring for the house. How boring and not important!” To watching her care for her brother and be like, “oh wow, guess these skills have some pretty important applications.” Evolution of many relationships!