Book Snob recently suggested that book reviews were dry and should be funnier. I thought, “You know, she’s right. I’ll try to be funnier myself.” The Kreutzer Sonata is not a funny book. I imagine some people would argue that it’s not even entertaining. And I realize now that I will fail miserably if I try to be funny about a book that is so serious.
Book Snob also suggested that book reviews are too long. I’ll try to keep this short. The Kreutzer Sonata is a short book. It’s a novella.
The Kreutzer Sonata is one of Tolstoy’s later works and revolves around his moral beliefs about lust, love, and marriage. To the point: a conversation takes place on a train between passengers about love and marriage. One passenger, Pozdnyshev, becomes agitated and says (I paraphrase), love and marriage are a bunch of crap. He then recounts in detail how and why he killed his wife in a jealous fit.
This is Tolstoy, so the story is well-crafted and all the other key words and catch phrases that describe excellent writing. What I found interesting is that Pozdnyshev blames society’s loose morals for setting him up for failure in his marriage. As a young man he partied. He slept around, drank, etc. He goes on to say his former purely pleasure driven relations with women, which for the most part were secretly accepted by society if not openly condoned, ruined his relationship with his wife.
Yes, my relations with women were lost forever. Pure relations with women, from that time forward, I could no longer have. I had become what is called a voluptuary; and to be a voluptuary is a physical condition like the condition of a victim of the morphine habit, of a drunkard, and of a smoker.
Just as the victim of the morphine habit, the drunkard, the smoker, is no longer a normal man, so the man who has known several women for his pleasure is no longer normal. He is abnormal forever. He is a voluptuary. Just as the drunkard and the victim of the morphine habit may be recognized by their face and manner, so we may recognize a voluptuary. He may repress himself and struggle, but nevermore will he enjoy simple, pure, and fraternal relations toward woman. By his way of glancing at a young woman one may at once recognize a voluptuary; and I became a voluptuary, and I have remained one.
I know; I know. I’ve already gone on too long, but I find the idea interesting in light of today’s obsession with sexuality and porn. The book is an insight into Victorian morality (Can it be Victorian if it’s Russian?,) and it can actually be read as an early feminist text.
Is it worth reading? If you’re interested in the aforementioned topics and want a quick Russian literature read, yes. If you want action and intrigue and don’t care what people thought about sex, love, and marriage in the olden days, no. I imagine the picture of the side boob on the cover will entice many young men to at least pick the book up. Voluptuaries.
Updated: The Ancient Dream- an excellent review by Vivian Gornick
