It’s time to talk about the one and only time I ever enjoyed myself while taking a standardized test.
First, some background: I, like many others, had always fallen into the trap of believing that if I were to endeavor to read anything by Leo Tolstoy, it would prove to be the greatest bore of my life. I’d taken up the uninformed beliefs that his writing was bland, dry and excessive, and even that Russian literature as a whole was a niche that wasn’t worth exploring. It seems like whenever Tolstoy or one of his famous novels was brought up, I observed everyone have the same reaction: a groan and a vow to never subject themselves to reading one of those “bricks.” I most definitely was guilty of being influenced by this opinion, and up until the fateful day that I took the PSATs, I had no interest whatsoever in reading “War and Peace,” “Anna Karenina,” or anything else by Tolstoy.
Until October of my junior year of high school. I was taking the PSATs for what would be the second and final time. I could already feel that the pressure was much higher this year. Everyone else in the room realized this would be the last practice round before the real thing. I was anxious, my stomach hurt, and my nails were already bitten right down to the quick. When I saw that the first reading was an excerpt from “Anna Karenina,” I groaned. (Not out loud, of course.) Great. The literature part was always the easiest section for me, but now I was up against deciphering “a complicated Russian novel.”
The moment I started reading the excerpt, however, I was blown away. It was a simple scene, describing the moment Konstantin Levin sees Kitty from afar while ice skating, but I had never read about a character that seemed more real to me. The exquisite imagery, combined with the raw and sincere inner thoughts of the characters, was enough to make me fall in love with Tolstoy’s writing. The excerpt was not enough—I wanted to keep reading.
Over Christmas, I went out to buy a copy of “Anna Karenina,” desperate to soak up more of the beautiful writing and irresistable, imperfect characters. I won’t lie—in the end, it did take me an entire year to read the book, as school and life in general left me with little time for reading. But in the end, I’m actually glad it took me so long. Spreading the novel out over such a long time allowed me to sit with it in my mind. It was the first book I have ever annotated for my own benefit and not for the purpose of writing an essay for English class. I didn’t want to pass anything over or forget particularly poignant passages later on.
While I’ve been at Smith, the time I’ve had for reading for pleasure has dropped considerably, and even when I happen to have time at the end of a busy day, I’ve usually been reading so much for classes that I simply do not want to look at another word on a page. As Smithies we are high-achieving, we strive for excellence, and at any given time have a whole pile of assignments on our desks to complete, which doesn’t leave us much time for recreational reading. But reading “Anna Karenina” over the course of the year left me with an important, gentle reminder for myself: there’s no shame in taking a long time to finish a book, and there’s also no shame in not reading for fun as frequently while in school. Sometimes spacing out a book over a few months can mean you get more enjoyment out of it, you can understand it better, and you will feel so much more accomplished when you do finish. Burnout is real; and you have to be kind to yourself.
Since finishing “Anna Karenina,” I’ve been trying to figure out where on earth the stereotype about Tolstoy’s novels being dry could have possibly come from. One explanation I’ve come up with has to do with stereotypes surrounding another late 19th-century author. Tolstoy is often compared to his English contemporary Charles Dickens, which of course conjures up thoughts of 100-word sentences, endless repetition, and a three paragraph description of a doornail. Now, imagine that in Russian and you can very well understand why everyone is so anxious to avoid picking up “War and Peace.” Unlike Dickens, Tolstoy was not paid by the word. Whether he could make a living did not depend on the difference between 10 and 20 words, so his works do not contain the overly-detailed descriptions and redundant sentences that you often find in a Dickens novel.
Tolstoy writes with unapologetic truth. None of his characters are solely good or bad. No character is underdeveloped, and no character is unsympathetic. “Anna Karenina” is truly a book about people, and how beautifully and tragically imperfect we all are. I find it hard to put into words the effect Tolstoy’s prose has on me, for it is a feeling intrinsically linked to reading his novels for yourself. All I can say is that if you ever find yourself desperate to understand yourself or the people around you, go read Tolstoy. I guarantee you that things will become clearer. Whether or not my endorsement of this iconic Russian novelist wins you over, I hope I can leave you with this lesson: you never know what hidden gems you might find on the SATs.
[Image: Jude Law and Keira Knightley as Alexei and Anna in Joe Wright’s film of Anna Karenina. Photograph: Moviestore/Rex Features]
