On the shoulders of giants
Wednesday, April 30th, 2008
Currently reading War and Peace, a novel I first read in my twenties. Then, it filled me with all sorts of crazy dreams of an aristocratic lifestyle that was way beyond my means or background – but also got me interested in philosophy and fired me with a determination to write which has paid off wonderfully. It made me realize quite what writers could do, the issues they could address, the depth into which they could look into people’s hearts and souls, the accuracy with which they were obliged to report what they found.
Of course, my own writings fall way short of the Count’s standards – it’s great to be reminded again of just how good and how big a novel should be (‘big’ in a spiritual sense, not just in sheer size). It is good to have things to aspire to, even if you know you’ll never get to that level.
I find this mid-19th century novel much more informative about life than most modern works. There is, of course, the odd area where times have changed so much as to make the author’s views puzzling. For example, Tolstoy always seems to speak disparagingly of sex, which to the modern reader seems cold, unrealistic and prudish. (But even here, it’s fascinating to fly back 150 years and see how people saw things differently.)
In other areas, I feel a real sense of re-discovery. The human quest for God is something modern novelists seem embarrassed about describing. If a character is religious, they are usually a bit barmy. But this is not true in life. People obsessed with religion can be strange – or dangerous, if they decide their God wants them to kill other people. But many of the rest of us are involved in this quest, in our own quiet, private ways. I’m happy to write about it in The Enlightenment Club, even if modernists will scoff.
I guess War and Peace is essentially a man’s book – the dominance of the three great male characters, all those battles (those of us lucky not to have been in a war know how fortunate we are: that could be us). But it is no ‘masculinist’ propaganda: male weaknesses are dissected with painful insight. Intelligent women, I’m sure, read this book and love it.
Anyway, I’m about half way through – Prince Andriy has just proposed to Natasha. I’ll probably comment on it again in another blog, as this great novel is a lot more interesting than my own rather mundane life. I feel a real privilege and excitement every time I pick it up and am allowed into the innermost souls of these characters.