From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. Just in time for the publication of two new translations of War and Peace comes the first publication in English of what is arguably the greatest critical work on Tostoy's masterpiece. Soviet critic Shklovsky (1893-1984) is the author of Third Factory and many other critical books. (They are slowly being translated into English and released by Dalkey Archive.) All are written in Shklovsky's inimitable, signature digressive style, but none perhaps has as grand a concentric development as this book, which radiates out from War and Peace and into Pushkin, Turgenev, the Opayaz period, Anna Karenina, the Neva, Dostoevsky, Shakespeare, the Bible, Chekhov, Picasso, and many, many more figures, books, rivers, places, things. The result is a deep, and deeply satisfying, meditation on the form of the novel, and on what reading novels "now" (Shklovsky finished the book at the end of his life) is like. Shklovsky takes his title from a letter of Tolstoy's regarding "an earthly, spontaneous energy that's impossible to invent"; he has that energy in spades here, delightful even if one has been unable to finish Tolstoy's novel.
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Review
"A rambling, digressive stylist, Shklovsky throws off brilliant apercus on every page . . . Like an architect's blueprint, [he] lays bare the joists and studs that hold up the house of fiction." --Michael Dirda, Washington Post
"Perhaps because he is such an unlikely Tolstoyan, Viktor Shklovsky's writing on Tolstoy is always absorbing and often brilliant." --Russian Review
"Shklovsky is a disciple worthy of Sterne. He has appropriated the device of infinitely delayed event, of the digression helplessly promising to return to the point, and of disguising his superbly controlled art with a breezy nonchalance. But it is not really Sterne that Shklovsky sounds like: it is an intellectual and witty Hemingway." --Guy Davenport, National Review
"A rambling, digressive stylist, Shklovsky throws off brilliant aperçus on every page . . . Like an architect's blueprint, [he] lays bare the joists and studs that hold up the house of fiction." --Michael Dirda, Washington Post
"Shklovsky is a disciple worthy of Sterne. He has appropriated the device of infinitely delayed event, of the digression helplessly promising to return to the point, and of disguising his superbly controlled art with a breezy nonchalance. But it is not really Sterne that Shklovsky sounds like: it is an intellectual and witty Hemingway." --Guy Davenport, National Review