Tolstoy Zingers

One of the things I love best about War and Peace is how action-packed it is … and yet how, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, we get these psychological ZINGERS thrown at us – which have such the ring of truth that I am amazed at the insight. These are things I have also perceived – in myself, and in my fellow man – foibles, vanities, whatever … but the way Tolstoy just boils it down is one of the most thrilling parts, for me, of his writing style.

Zingers:

Page 10

Ellen was so lovely that she was not merely free from the slightest shade of coquetry, she seemed on the contrary ashamed of the too evident, too violent and all-conquering influence of her beauty. She seemed to wish but to be unable to soften the effect of her beauty.

Page 19

He looked at them all and smiled. His smile was utterly unlike the half-smile of all the others. When he smiled, suddenly, instantaneously, his serious, even rather sullen, face vanished completely, and a quite different face appeared, childish, good-humoured, even rather stupid, that seemed to beg indulgence.

Page 61

Berg talked very precisely, serenely, and politely. All he said was always concerning himself. He always maintained a serene silence when any subject was discussed that had no direct bearing on himself. And he could be silent in that way for several hours at a time, neither experiencing nor causing in others the slightest embarrassment. But as soon as the conversation concerned him personally, he began to talk at length and with visible satisfaction.

Page 167

He was one of those diplomats who like work and understand it, and in spite of his natural indolence, he often spent nights at his writing-table. He worked equally well whatever the object of his work might be. He was interested not in the question “Why?” but in the question “How?”

Page 263

He was about to embrace his friend, but Nikolay drew back from him. With that peculiarly youthful feeling of fearing beaten tracks, of wanting to avoid imitation, to express one’s feelings in some new way of one’s own, so as to escape the forms often conventionally used by others, Nikolay wanted to do something striking on meeting his friend. He wanted someone to give him a pinch, to give Berg a shove, anything rather than to kiss, as people always did on such occasions.

Page 326

So trivial seemed to him at that moment all the interests that were engrossing Napoleon, so petty seemed to him his hero, with his paltry vanity and glee of victory, in comparison with that lofty, righteous, and kindly sky which he had seen and comprehended, that he could not answer him. And all indeed seemed to him so trifling and unprofitable beside the stern and solemn train of thought aroused in him by weakness from loss of blood, by suffering and the nearness of death. Gazing into Napoleon’s eyes, Prince Andrey mused on the nothingness of greatness, on the nothingness of life, of which no one could comprehend the significance, and on the nothingness – still more – of death, the meaning of which could be understood and explained by none of the living.

Page 362

The feeling that Princess Marya was experiencing as she sat in her room had overpowered the whole house and taken possession of every one. Owing to the belief that the fewer people know of the sufferings of a woman in labour, the less she suffers, every one tried to affect to know nothing of it; no one talked about it, but over and above the habitual staidness and respectfulness of good manners that always reigned in the prince’s household, there was apparent in all a sort of anxiety, a softening of the heart, and a consciousness of some great, unfathomable mystery being accomplished at that moment.

Page 388

But now in the solitude of his journey they seized upon him with special force. Of whatever he began thinking he came back to the same questions, which he could not answer, and from which he could not escape. It was as though the chief screw in his brain upon which his whole life rested were loose. The screw moved no forwarder, no backwarder, but still it turned, catching on nothing, always in the same groove, and there was no making it cease turning.

Page 460

Rostov had been out of humour from the moment when he detected the dissatisfaction on the face of Boris, and as is always the case with persons who are ill-humoured, it seemed to him that every one looked at him with hostile eyes, and that he was in every one’s way.

Page 523

He was a passionate adherent of the new ideas and of Speransky, and the busiest purveyor of news in Petersburg, one of those men who choose their opinions like their clothes – according to the fashion – but for that very reason seem the most vehement partisans.

Page 533

“Yes, that is true, prince. In these days,” pursued Vera (talking of “these days”, as persons of limited intellect as a rule love to do, supposing they have discovered and estimated the peculiarities of the times and that human characteristics do change with the times, “in these days a girl has so much liberty that the pleasure of being paid attention often stifles these feelings in her.”

Oh, oh, oh, how I love that last one. Yes, it validates me in one of my biggest pet peeves, but that’s part of Tolstoy’s beauty. He throws in zingers – some where we recognize ourselves and wince, some where we recognize others and cheer … some where perhaps we are not ready to recognize ourselves, and say, “hahaha Yes, isn’t it annoying when OTHER people do that??” – not aware (yet) that we may exhibit those characteristics ourselves.

It is a book that requires engagement on that level, and I adore it.