كنت وأنا في ثانوي مهووس بالأدب الأجنبي , مجرد رؤيتي لنسخة مترجمة من أعمال العظماء كان سبب كافِ جدا بالنسبة لي أن أشتريها , ولعل السبب دا اللي خلاني وأنا في أولى جامعة أدفع 120 جنيه فى كتاب ضخم عبارة عن 4 أجزاء و2329 من الورق الأصفر اللي باين عليه القدم جدا , واللى ريحته أشبه برائحة المخدر اللذيذ القادر على تهدئتك في أشد الأوقات ضيقًا وتعصبًا .

توصف هذه الرواية عى أنها إلياذة العصر الحديث , ولكن أهي كذلك فعلا ؟
لا أعرف لأني لم أقرأ الإلياذة , ولكن الشئ الوحيد الذي أثق به أنك ستقابل ملحمة من الطراز الرفيع , ملحمة لا تملك إلا الانبهار أمامها , والتعجب من تلك القدرة المذهلة التي امتلكها الكاتب لكي ينسج لك تلك الملحمة.

إلمام مذهل بالتاريخ وتفاصيل الزمان والمكان مع عمق نفسي جميل وقدرة بديعة على الوصف , كل ذلك وضعك فى قلب الحدث وجعلم تعايشه .

وصف مجتمعي جميل بتأريخ شديد الخصوصية لمجتمع غريب عنك يضيف إلى معارفك الكثير, فأنت لست أمام مجرد رواية أدبية (عادية) بل أنت أمام عمل إنساني كامل , استطاع أن يطوف بك في ثنايا الزمان والمكان ليسطر بقلمه تاريخ مذهل ليقدمه لك.

تولستوي : ليس مجرد أديب , بل كان نبي من أنبياء الإنسانية رفيعي الطراز , أولئك الأشخاص الذين بلغ حسهم الإنساني وصدقهم مع أنفسهم وتلك الشفافية التي يتعامل بها , إلى استحقاقه لتلك المنزلة التي يستحقها .

ولبد لي أن أسجل أني أحبب (آنا كارنينا)أكث من رائعته الحرب والسلام, رغم اعترافي بأفضلية الثانية عن الأولى .

Leo Tolstoy's narrative power in War and Peace is the closest thing to the voice of god in literature. When he is describing events involving characters such as Pierre, Natasha, and Prince Andre, as a fairly standard 3rd person, omniscient narrator, it is merely the voice of A god. When he steps back and uses an objective lens and sketches the movements and grand events involving Napoleon and the Czar, entire peoples, the reader must become monotheistic, for this is the voice of the one true Deity.

So many characters fill the nearly 1400 pages, and it takes focus to keep up and thoroughly enjoy the mastery. It's well worth the effort, if only to cross this behemoth off your list.

War and Peace is historical fiction at its finest. It uses the overwhelming complexity of Napoleon's advance and retreat from Russia to display human fatuity and vanity, perseverance and selflessness. It is a model for all other novels of its kind.

In the epilogue, we find Tolstoy dipping his toe into metaphysics. This is the weakest portion but still quite intriguing. He was a fine philosopher as well as a prodigious storyteller, like all the great writers.

That 5 star rating stares down at me. Does it need to be justified? Probably not … but anyway

In my seventieth year, I have finally for the first time read this novel, a book that I bought over half a century ago, proudly displayed on one book shelf after another as the years rolled by. Will I ever open it again? I surely hope so. It seems to me at this moment that I could turn the book over, open the front cover and begin reading again.

No matter what prism one looks at W&P through - sublime storytelling, psychological insight, unforgettable characters (even if their names are too long and too like one another), description of battle, interwoven love stories, superb writing (admittedly read in translation) – one could I suppose find an example of another novel that, when looked at through that particular prism, would equal or exceed Tolstoy’s creation.

But set all those prismatic views of War and Peace side by side, giving them any set of weights you want, and surely no other novel, if judged by all the same measures, can surpass it.

And there is one prism through which War & Peace must surely be judged the greatest – that is, it must be the greatest historical novel ever written. For not only has Tolstoy given us this profound story of humanity, not only has he given it a historical setting in the two tumultuous decades following the French Revolution, but he has also dared to infuse the story again and again with his own initially scornful, but ultimately tormented, criticism of, and search for meaning and truth within, the very meaning of history.

To be continued.

بدون شک میتونم بگم من این کتاب رو زندگی کردم

1-اوایل کتاب شخصیت ها اونقدر زیاد بودن که برای هر کدوم مجبور میشدم به لیستی که مینوشتم برگردم؛ این اصلی‌ترین دلیل کند خوندنم بود اما آروم آروم که جلو رفتم یعنی تقریبا از اوایل جلد سه همه‌ی شخصیتا آشنا شدن، حتی برای من که با حفظ کردن اسم میونه‌ی خیلی بدی دارم هم سختی تعداد اسما از جلد سوم به بعد از بین رفت، و برای همین جلد سوم خیلی روون‌تر بود، اما جلد چهارم رو وقتی شروع کردم که تقریبا یک سال درگیر جنگ و صلح بودم و دلم نمی‌خواست تمومش کنم و فقط به همین دلیل آروم می‌خوندم و بالاخره یک روز تموم شد. هر چند هنوز جای خالی ناتاشا، پی‌یر پرنس آندره‌ی، آندره‌یویچ بالکونسکی بداخلاق ولی منظم، الن، کوتوزوف و خیلی از شخصیتای جنگ و صلح که حس میکنم واقعا به جاشون زندگی کردم تو زندگیم خالیه اما برای شروع داستان‌های جدید باید تمومش می‌کردم...
2- تولستوی گاهی اعصاب خورد کن میشه، دلت میخواد بهش بگی جناب تولستوی یه بار توضیح دادی دیگه، لازم نیست اینقدر جزییات ریز رو بگی اما حقیقتش اینه تولستوی به خاطر همین ریزه‌کاریاش تولستویه.
پس اگه تولستوی می‌خونید حتی اگه اعصابتون خورد می‌شه، جزییاتش رو کامل بخونید و یهو هوس نکنید چند صفحه رو نخونده بذارید. وجه تمایز تولستوی اینه که اینقدر تکرار میکنه و جزییات رو میگه که یه جایی فکر میکنی خودت نیستی و یکی از شخصیتای قصه شدی و این خیلی قشنگه.
3- حقیقتش اینه که یه جاهایی از جنگ صلح خوندن خسته شدم و فکر میکردم اگه خودم رفته بودم کتابفروشی و خریده بودمش شاید نصفه ولش میکردم، فقط و فقط چون طولانی بود ولی خب جنگ و صلح من فرق داشت و بهترین کادوییه که تا حالا تو زندگیم گرفتم، اول کتابم نوشته با عشق، احترام و لبخند-رویا و خب خوشحالم که این کتاب رو کادو گرفتم و تا آخر خوندم.
4- ریویو نوشتن برای 1457 صفحه که بیشتر از یکسال خوندنشون طول کشید واقعا سخته، برای همین شماره گذاشتم، گاهی ترجیح میدم زمان بگذره و بعد بیام درمورد کتاب بیشتر بنویسم، تولستوی من رو نسبت به قبل تبدیل به شنونده‌ی بهتر و آدم صبورتری کرد و این یکی از چندین دلیلیه که به آدمایی که دوستشون دارم، توصیه می‌کنم تولستوی بخونن.
پنج ستاره برای جنگ و صلح کمه واقعا ولی خب متاسفانه نمیشه کاری کرد.

5-این رو امروز، بیست تیر هزار و چهارصد، چند ماه بعد از تموم شدن کتاب اضافه می‌کنم.
کتاب‌ها تاثیرای بلند مدت می‌ذارن و ماهایی که کتاب می‌خونیم، خیلی از این تاثیرات رو متوجه نمی‌شیم، راستش چون آروم آروم تاثیر می‌ذارن و شخصیتمون رو می‌سازن نمی‌تونیم بفهمیم دقیقا چی شد که اینجوری فکر کردن رو شروع کردیم، اینجوری رفتار کردن رو و...
ولی خب گاهی که رد کتاب‌ رو تو زندگیم پیدا می‌کنم، از تاثیر بلندمدتش خوشحال میشم، جنگ و صلح رو شروع کردم، خیلی آروم پیش می‌رفت و برای من که حفظ کردن شخصیت‌ها سخت بود، آروم‌تر و آروم‌تر...
یه برگه همیشه کنارم بود و در حال نوشتن بودم، روابط، شخصیتا و اتفاقات مهم.
جنگ و صلح برای من ارزشمندترین کتابِ کتابخونمه و نمی‌خواستم نصفه ولش کنم پس مجبور بودم صبر کنم، تولستوی آروم آروم اتفاقای جدید رو وارد می‌کرد و من کتاب رو خیلی کند می‌خوندم، خوندن جنگ و صلح برای من بیشتر از یک سال طول کشید!
اما نهایتا یکی از چیزهایی که بهم داد همین صبر کردن بود، صبر کنم و بخونم، بشنوم و بذارم آدما، نویسنده‌ها و زندگی قصه‌اش رو برام تعریف کنه.

At last I’ve completed this mammoth of a brilliant Classic. I very much enjoyed the balance of the story between all the characters mainly of the Russian nobility and the Napoleonic wars in Russia over a period of 15 years between 1805 and 1820 but the main theme being 1812. Although this is a fictional book there is the influence of military history which made this more fascinating for me.

There are many famous quotes in this book from Tolstoy available on the internet that’s no point regurgitating on here. However, if you are interested do seek them out because they are mainly wise words.

I’ve picked out some passages of my own that are not particular famous:

The Russian army had to act like a whip on a running animal. And the experienced driver knew that it was most advantageous to hold the whip raised, to threaten, but not to lash the running animal on the head.

For a lackey there can be no great man, because a lackey has is own idea of greatness.

I only meant to say to you what I’m saying. Said by Mikhail Kutuzov

Pfuel was one of those hopelessly, permanently, painfully self-assured men as only Germans can be, and precisely because only Germans can be self-assured on the basis of an abstract idea —science, that is, an imaginary knowledge of the perfect truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he considers himself personally, in mind as well as body, irresistibly enchanting for men as well as women. An Englishman is self-assured on the grounds that he is a citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore, as an Englishman, he always knows what he must do, and knows that everything he does as an Englishman is unquestionably good. An Italian is self-assured because he is excitable and easily forgets himself and others. A Russian is self-assured precisely because he does not know anything and does not want to know anything, because he does not believe it possible to know anything fully. A German is self-assured worst of all, and most firmly of all, and most disgustingly of all, because he imagines that he knows the truth, science, which he has invented himself, but which for him is the absolute truth. Such, obviously was Pfuel.

How brilliant is that…..

My only criticism of the book consisted of the last 37 pages which is basically Part 2 of the Epilogue. It’s like reading a thesis about war, power, people’s, and so forth. Pointless in my opinion.

Other than that, I’ve enjoyed the journey thoroughly.

I am no longer afraid of the big ass Russian novel.* Who knew it would be so readable? The most difficult thing about it was keeping all of the characters straight, but even that was only in the beginning. By the end of the book, the characters were so fully drawn that I couldn't believe that I'd once had to rely on a cheat sheet remember who they were or what relation they had to one another.

I'm kind of peeved that I can't give this book 5 stars**. Overall, I thought it was fantastic. I even liked the war sections. Well, the "action" war sections that featured our characters, not the "strategy" war sections where Tolstoy basically repeated his views on history and the war over and over and over again. That and the second epilogue kept me from being completely enamored. Come on, Leo! End it with a bang, not a whimper!

By the way, I'm totally Team Andrei.



*Or the big ass French novel, for that matter. I'm still kind of scared of the big ass American novel (looking at you, Herman "whale anatomy" Melville), and I sometimes have PTSD-like flashbacks from my monthlong run in with the big ass Irish novel (you know who you are, James "snotgreen
scrotumtightening sea" Joyce).

**Give me a year and I will forgive you for your whimper of an ending. This book was pretty freaking amazing.

Holy cow! I am done! Not sure what to say . . . I feel like I should write a 1000 page review, but I will keep it short.

I finished the book while a passenger in a mini-van stuck in horrible Atlanta traffic.

The book was not quite as readable as some other BIG books I have read, but still pretty good. What amazed me is how few specific events occurred during the 1000+ pages - Tolstoy was just really detailed in describing the events. Only a few times, though, did I feel like it was too much.

This book may not be for everyone, but it sure feels cool to be able to say "War and Peace? Yeah, I read that!"

When I was growing up, the conventional wisdom was that War and Peace was the sine qua non of difficult books: the scope, the length, OMG the length! Conquering this Everest was The Test of whether you were a Man/Reader.

I have now read it. Thump chest and make Tarzan yell.

Actually, you know chump, big deal. The mountain really wasn't so large after all.

There are love affairs, there is a war, peace eventually returns to the Shire Russia. Sorry, got confused there for a minute with Lord of the Rings, another 1,000+ page work where there are love affairs, war and an eventual peace. (That's hardly a spoiler by the way. Not unless you've been hiding under a rock and don't know that Napoleon didn't succeed in conquering Russia.) Which is my point: With every half-penny fantasy potboiler these days weighing in at several hundred kilogrammes of war and peace (*cough*Wheel of Time*cough*), how can we still look at a book this size and feel fear? 1,000+ pages? Only? Pshaw! That's nuthin!. Spit out t'baccy chaw.

And yet, the notion still lives on about how HARD War and Peace is. So, if anyone out there still buys into that, is intimidated and deterred by that notion, well, really, don't be (unless, of course, the last thing you read was Green Eggs and Ham).

The thing is, to my surprise, I found it a rollicking good read. There are star-crossed lovers, suicide attempts, heart-rending death bed scenes, and battles aplenty where our heroes get knocked on the head and taken prisoner. Instead of Middle Earth, you get a fantasy-land of wholesome, loving Peasant Russia and you learn how True Self comes from Loving the Russian Soil. Okay, there's also the rather irritating and interminable philosophizing by Tolstoy about History and Its Causes, but you got through the interminable side songs in Lord of Rings didn't you?

In case any of you are thinking that I'm mocking War and Peace by this comparison, please note that it's not intended to be (wholly) facetious. I loved Lord of the Rings. If anything I'm mocking the awe with which we approach "Great Works". So, yeah, if you ever thought of reading War and Peace but were put off by its reputation, don't be. It's actually quite fun.

El gran cometa de 1811 fue un acontecimiento histórico y de gran relevancia para el mundo de la astronomía, puesto que se pudo observar este cuerpo celeste a simple vista durante un periodo de nueve meses. Tal y como ocurre con los personajes de la novela, los cometas se mueven alrededor de un eje central. En el caso de estas grandes masas, su eje será el Sol, mientras que los protagonistas de Guerra y paz se moverán alrededor de un concepto filosófico tan primitivo como sería el sentido de la vida. En ambos casos, los cuerpos se moverán con un rumbo aparentemente determinado, pero no siempre con la misma intensidad ni con el mismo brillo.

Con esta premisa, Tolstói crea una obra monumental que recorre el transcurso de uno de los mayores acontecimientos históricos del siglo XIX. Así, el lector seguirá el porvenir de cuatro familias durante las invasiones napoleónicas en Rusia. Desde las batallas iniciales del ejército francés contra las fuerzas combinadas de los imperios ruso y austríaco en 1805 hasta el inhumano desenlace de esta gran invasión europea, Guerra y paz ofrecerá una combinación perfecta de novela, texto histórico y ensayo filosófico.

Embarcarse en su lectura es indudablemente una experiencia exigente, pero que compensará todas y cada una de las horas invertidas en su lectura. Pese a su larga extensión, el estilo del autor es increíblemente fluido. Tanto en los momentos de entramados familiares como en las partes bélicas, su prosa es sencilla y adictiva, sin que esto influya en su nivel de complejidad ni en su calidad literaria. Se suele poner de ejemplo el tercer libro (Guerra y paz está dividido en cuatro libros) a la hora de demostrar el tedio que puede provocar la obra, pero nada más lejos de la realidad. Con paciencia e interés por el periodo histórico descrito, Tolstói ofrece una descripción hiperrealista del infierno que se vive en cualquier acto bélico, plagado de momentos épicos y grandes dudas existenciales.

Todo esto parece llevar a la conclusión de que su extensión está totalmente justificada. Y evidentemente lo está. Recortar la obra sería como quitar uno de los murales que llenan la Capilla Sixtina. Sin embargo, he de reconocer que el autor es partidario de repetir temas y conceptos clave a lo largo de toda la novela, valorando ciertos aspectos filosóficos y psicológicos (tanto de sus personajes como de las figuras históricas) en reiteradas ocasiones, con el objetivo de reforzar sus hipótesis y evidenciar las consecuencias que tuvieron los actos descritos.

Guerra y paz es, en definitiva, una de las mayores historias jamás contadas. Es la representación del universo narrado desde la perspectiva del individuo. Es absoluta libertad y necesidad. Es una narración completamente atemporal, tan actual como histórica, en la que se podría encontrar la salvación para una sociedad hastiada y ahogada por el paso del tiempo. Tras acabar su última línea, el lector no podrá olvidar las sensaciones que tuvo durante la batalla de Borodinó, o los bailes y canciones de Natasha, o el alivio espiritual de Andréi gracias a la ayuda de un roble, o la contemplación de ese gran cometa por parte de Pierre. Tolstói demuestra que la guerra se puede crear en los salones de baile, mientras que la paz se puede firmar en los campos de batalla. Todos los acontecimientos, por pequeños e insignificantes que parezcan, formarán parte del gran engranaje universal que escribirá la historia de la humanidad para las generaciones futuras.

Serve lasciare un commento? Io do anche cinquanta stelle a questa edizione nuova che è un capolavoro, per non parlare della traduzione che ha reso scorrevole un bellissimo romanzo. Ci ho messo un messo, ho portato questo librone ovunque, seduta in spiaggia, ore a letto, dalla parrucchiera (!), qualche volta in terrazza, spesso al sole e mi ha fatto compagnia a lungo. Ho riscoperto il piacere della lentezza nella lettura, trovare ogni sera gli stessi personaggi, essere curiosa delle loro vite, aspettare una battaglia o pensare ai feriti. E' stato bello. C'è sempre bisogno di un classico.

what if i read this just for funsies

This is one of those books that can be life-changing. I read this as a teenager and I remember exactly where I was (sitting on my bed, in my grandmother's house, in southern Germany) when I finished it. I must have spent an hour just staring out the window, in awe of the lives I'd just led, the experiences I'd just had.

****

I'm now re-reading this, enjoying it immensely and no doubt appreciating it much more than I did the first time. Tolstoy has the most amazing ability to make us feel, when he zooms out and examines historical events, that the individual is nothing--and then when he zooms in and paints intimate portraits of his characters, that the individual is everything. Breathtaking.

By the way, I'm reading the Anthony Briggs translation (Penguin Classics), and it's marvelous. I'm quite picky when it comes to translations and this is one of the best I've read.

It's in the sweeping battle scenes that Tolstoy shows how insignificant the individual really is--how even generals and emperors are at the mercy of random and unpredictable events. Then when Tolstoy switches to the intimate drawing room scenes, the entire perspective shifts, and nothing matters more than the individual consciousness that he depicts. The juxtaposition of these two feelings is just, well, genius!

I'd forgotten how mystical Tolstoy gets with respect to Pierre's "conversion" or "enlightenment" or "getting religion." It's fascinating how Pierre becomes animated by these great ideas and that's a sign of his maturity, whereas Prince Andrey matures in an almost opposite way: by eschewing his former great ideas regarding military heroism and focusing instead (at this point in the narrative) on his baby son.

The contrapuntal movement of Pierre and Andrey's development is only highlighted when they're together, debating whether one ought to try to improve people's lives (Pierre) or just focus on one's own happiness and leave the world alone (Andrey). It's actually a profound debate, which then ends when Andrey beholds the vast sky again and something stirs inside him, something long dormant, and we as readers can't help anticipating that Andrey will be "back."

***

One of the great glories of reading War and Peace is to encounter, in a novel, characters struggling with serious philosophical issues--not as airy abstractions but rather in terms of how they ought to live. Pierre and Prince Andrey are the prime examples of this. I kept thinking, as I read the sections in which they struggle earnestly with such questions, that contemporary American fiction has precious little of this. I wonder if it's because we've all drunk the kool-aid that says "show, don't tell," making contemporary novelists shy away from such material. But this little mantra, while seemingly objective, renders entire realms of fiction off-limits. Tolstoy is constantly "telling" us what Pierre and Andrey are thinking, and the novel is so much better for it.

***

Tolstoy's "peace" is of course anything but: it's full of anticipation and intrigue and philosophical yearning, from the bursting bewildering sallies of youth (Natasha) to the resigned feeling that life isn't what you dreamed when you were young, and perhaps you aren't either (Pierre). The deftness and sheer range of human drama is staggering.

And the war, when it returns, is no abstract matter. Everywhere there are people caught up in this great event, bewildered by it. Here's Rostov on seeing the French officer he's brought down: "This pale, mud-stained face of a fair-haired young man with a dimple on his chin and bright blue eyes had no business with battlefields; it was not the face of an enemy; it was a domestic, indoor face." Rostov can't help seeing him as a human being, and in that moment his "enthusiasm suddenly drained away."

It's interesting how, when Rostov chases the French officer on horseback, he thinks about the wolf hunt he was recently on. When I read the scene of the hunt, where the hunters capture the old She-Wolf and her cubs, I couldn't help feeling sorry for those animals, for that animal family hunted for pure sport. I wondered how that scene would come back into the narrative because of the obvious symbolic weight of it, and here it is, in the scene of war. The characters hadn't empathized with the She-Wolf in the same way that Rostov does with the French officer, but I wonder if we're meant to anyway, or at least be made somewhat uncomfortable (as I was) by such sport-killing, perhaps seeing it as a prelude to another kind of sport-killing altogether: namely war.

***

Tolstoy can't help wearing his patriotism on his sleeve a bit, as he describes Napoleon's advance and the rival Moscow social circles, one of which has eschewed anything French while the other clings to its Francophile ways. Of course the French-speaking social circle is that of Helene, who's cold and manipulative and whose brother schemed to snatch away Natasha in such, well, French fashion. But this is no bald tale of Russian virtue and French perfidy. Tolstoy is finely attuned to the chaos of war and to the humans that engage in it, so much more alike than not as everyone tries simply to survive and perhaps claim a little glory in the end.

***

I love how Tolstoy peppers his narrative with keen insights into human nature. Here he is, when describing the attitude of Muscovites on the approach of Napoleon: "At the first approach of danger two voices always speak out with equal force in a man's heart: one tells him very sensibly to consider the exact extent of the danger and any means of avoiding it; the other says even more sensibly that it's too wearisome and agonizing to contemplate the danger, since it is not in a man's power to anticipate future events and avoid the general run of things, so you might as well turn away from the nastiness until it hits you, and dwell on things that are pleasant."

***

Tolstoy describes the cavalcade of human affairs as well as anyone, and the evacuation of Moscow is a great example of it: so many little stories described with the deftest brushstrokes. The irony and humor also shine through when he describes Berg's ridiculous recitation of war stories or Count Rostov's childlike diffidence when it comes to the issue of whether they should empty their wagons of belongings in order to make room for wounded soldiers.

***

Hurtling toward the end now, and Tolstoy is hammering his theme that the individual is a slave to fate and mysterious forces. This adds much irony to his tale, and some biting commentary as well, as when he says: "These man, carried away by their passions, were nothing more than the blind executors of the saddest law of necessity; but they saw themselves as heroes, and mistook their doings for achievements of the highest virtue and honour."

***

In the final pages the scenes return to domestic life full of family, as the war generation ages and their children are born. So many mixed emotions in the characters and in me, the reader, as our story ebbs to a close, as this towering and monumental work of art draws ever nearer to silence. "Memento mori," the characters are described as feeling in the face of an old countess, and the same can be said of this entire work, which is a testament to the fragility and beauty and fleetingness of life itself.

***

And then, finally, we see Pierre and Natasha together, but the last lines of the dramatic narrative belong to young Nikolay, Prince Andrey's son, who thinks: "Father! Father! Yes, I'm going to do something even he would have been pleased with."

Tolstoy then delves more directly into a philosophical treatise on free will, capping his narrative with the final summation that "it is no less essential to get away from a false sensation of freedom and accept a dependence that we cannot feel."

***

With that, the book closes, and I feel again what a monumental work I've just encountered. I'll spend many days and weeks pondering these pages, recalling little scenes and thinking about Tolstoy's grand arguments. The scope is breathtaking and profound, yet on every page you feel the frantic beating of the human heart. Despite all its spiritual claims, it's a deeply humanistic work.