I just finished Tolstoy's Anna Karenina a few weeks ago, so when I was offered this re-telling of that classic story to review for the Amazon Vine program, the timing was serendipitous.
In this modern version, author Irina Reyn is faithful to the original yet manages to give it a thoroughly fresh, original flavor, and the good news is that although familiarity with Tolstoy's Anna will make Reyn's version all the more enjoyable in making the inevitable connections and comparisons, I don't believe it necessary to have read Tolstoy to enjoy Reyn's take.
The theme is the same, and it's one whose consequences haven't really changed as much as we might think in the more than 100 years that have passed between tellings. We get to meet Anna here before her marriage to Alex, when she is a 37-year old beauty in a Russian-Jewish enclave of NYC, lovely and admired, cultured and educated, but troublingly single. Things haven't really changed much in society, and less so in immigrant populations, where a 37-year old single woman in danger of never marrying or having children is a crisis. So she marries.
She knows from the beginning that she feels no passion for her husband either physically or emotionally, but finds comfort in the securities of marriage and motherhood. When she meets David, their affair brings to light all of the ways Anna has covered up her own sense of self, but what I got from it was even more alarming: the more glaring fact that that may very well be due to the fact that there is perhaps not much there to cover up. For Anna is, underneath her elegant and mysterious demeanor, empty and unremarkable. What does she really care about? Is there anything at all that moves her the same way novels and politics do David, the way French movies affect Lev, her cousin's husband? Even her young son, although deeply loved, arouses no unbridled emotion in Anna. She has spent most of her life primarily engaged in two things: dreaming vaguely about flawed but romantic heroes like Bronte's Heathcliff, and creating her image of the stylish Russian beauty everyone believes she is. She has never tried too hard to achieve or do anything in particular, and that empty space is what no husband, child, or lover can fill. The tragedy of Anna is that she never sees this, because she's incapable of looking at herself through her own eyes. It's as if she herself has no eyes at all with which to judge anyone or anything, even herself. Having chosen her lover over her husband and child, her life quickly loses what little focus it had. In her forties now and living with a younger man whose love she's unsure of, she spirals downward into depression over all that she has lost - her beauty, youth, time, her husband, son, respectability, community, and now the lover for whom she'd left it all. What's left? She has no reservoir to dip into, and don't we all need that? If nothing else, we need that part of ourselves that is uniquely US, that takes comfort in our own company, that draws strength and inspiration from within, like an internal bank account we deposit bits of confidence and other good things into from time to time, when we can, saving it for the rainy days that come for all of us at some point. Anna has never done this, and so there's nothing there when all the external things are gone.
The one thing I felt was poorly done, and is the sole reason I give this book four stars instead of five, is the very abrupt and unclear ending. I don't do spoilers so won't give anything away, but suffice it to say that if you have NOT read Tolstoy's story, the end may leave you with a giant question mark over your head. Then again, maybe not and I'm just naturally thick. I know it would have frustrated me, though, had I not known how Anna Karenina ended and assumed this ended the same way (and who knows - maybe it DIDN'T end the same way...that's how obscure the ending is!). Although this faltering at the very end (literally the last page) is no small thing, I found this story evocative and well-written in a sparse, sincere tone. I liked the fact that there were no drawn-out or graphic details of the couple's affair, not because I'm opposed to that but because it would have greatly detracted from the story, which is not nearly so much about the affair itself as it is about Anna's emptiness and the repercussions of all the decisions - and lack of decisions, really - she's made in her life. I would still recommend it, and for those who are fans of Tolstoy's original tale, as I am, it will be especially satisfying.