Facing the Happiness and Misfortune of Life

Facing the Happiness and Misfortune of Life

"All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." From a very young age, I heard my mother repeat this line again and again. I also knew it was the most important sentence in Anna Karenina. But at that time, I had no deep understanding of happiness or misfortune in life, so naturally I could not truly grasp it. As for the novel itself, I had never actually read it. On the one hand, I had always lacked interest in this kind of subject matter; on the other, I probably felt that the entire theme of the work was contained in that simple yet profound opening line. Clearly, what the author wanted to emphasize was the second half of it—the tragedy of Anna’s story.

While out on my morning runs, I spent about a month listening to the entire book. It was also the first work by Tolstoy I had ever listened to—or read—and it left a deep impression on me. Beyond the distinctive qualities inherent in Russian writers—or perhaps Russians in general—Tolstoy’s work has especially striking characteristics of its own. Take Levin’s appearance, for example. At first I assumed his story would intersect with Anna’s in some meaningful way, but only at the end did I realize that it could just as well have been a completely independent story. And since Levin serves as the author’s alter ego within the novel, he does not really contribute to the telling of Anna’s story itself; rather, he provides Tolstoy with an opportunity to express his various ideas, opinions, and inner reflections. To me, that expression feels somewhat forced (though part of that may be because I am detached from the historical and social background of the story). So even if it enriches the novel on an intellectual level, on the level of storytelling alone it somewhat weakens the main plot.

Returning to the story itself, I think that from Levin’s perspective, his own life is probably both happy and unhappy. Like most people, his life is full of ups and downs, joy and pain. Taken as a whole, that is normal for a life. But if one lacks patience with life as a whole, then every stage becomes hard to endure. If every segment of life is placed under a magnifying glass, each one will seem full of twists and hardships. For a delicate and sensitive character like Levin, this is especially true. Whether in heartbreak or in love, life feels like a roller coaster—one moment heaven, the next hell. And yet, if we pull the camera back, Levin’s family still seems to belong to the category of the “happy,” its course relatively smooth and steady. But who, in the midst of the present moment, can really see what the next moment will bring?

As for Anna, it is much harder to describe her in terms of happiness or misfortune alone. Of course, for Karenin’s family, what happened was certainly one kind of misfortune. But for an individual life, which is better: to gradually fade away in the long torment of the years, or to burn brilliantly and briefly like a meteor? Perhaps there is no universal answer. As The Count of Monte Cristo puts it: "Life is neither better nor worse; it is simply one state in place of another." Anna encountered love in the midst of a long, dull life, and for her existence it was as rare and precious as an oasis in the desert. Yet there was no soil in her life in which that love could properly take root. For her and for everyone around her, that was at the same time a tremendous misfortune.

One of the finest things about a great writer lies in the shifting of perspectives. Even within a single work, a good writer does not look at a problem from only one angle. In Anna’s story, there is what Anna sees, what Vronsky sees, what Karenin sees, what Stiva sees, and even what little Seryozha sees. In each person’s eyes, everyone becomes the character they are bound to see. Everyone feels they have given a great deal, feels that others have not done enough, feels that justice is on their own side—just as we do in real life. And yet, in the tangled mess of life, I think there is no such thing as "truth" or "absolute rightness." If one can shift, as a writer does, into another person’s position, one will probably see something entirely different. That is why, whenever a matter or a relationship reaches the point where people start trying to reason it out, it usually becomes impossible for anyone to explain clearly or persuade anyone else. But once one is truly able to put oneself in another’s place, most problems tend to resolve themselves.

From the ending of the story, Anna pays the most brutal price. She is certainly deserving of sympathy and tenderness; this is her tragedy. As for Vronsky, I often think that if the entire story had ended abruptly at the scene where he shoots himself, then the novel would have been his tragedy. Unfortunately, in life one may not be born at the right time, nor die at the right time. Yet for Karenin, this too is a tragedy. He has done nothing wrong, and yet he bears all the consequences. But life simply goes on like this. There are no such words as "should," "if," or "suppose." All happiness and misfortune must be faced head-on.

Pushkin, another Russian, expressed his attitude toward life’s many misfortunes in his well-known poem If by Life You Were Deceived. The older I grow, the more profound it feels:

"If by life you were deceived,

Do not be dismal, do not be wild!

In the day of grief, be calm and mild:

Merry days will come, believe.

Heart is living in tomorrow;

Present is dejected here:

In a moment, passes sorrow;

That which passes will grow dear."

http://weixin.qq.com/r/BDgbA_7EhbP6rapg920W (QR code auto-recognized)