juliana anuakpado

TOLSTOY’S ANNA KARENINA

Have you ever felt so in love? So utterly consumed by another person that just being in their presence was enough to enough to entrap your soul and swallow you whole? Your world, your reality, your very being, held in the palms of one person. They could choose to love you back or they could decide to crush you and destroy you altogether. Many of us have never experienced this, and I cannot say if I have ever seen it in real life. It would not be far off the say that most of us wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves. Would we have the courage to confront this enrapture of the heart if it met us in real life? If the law had already tied us to another, would it be bravery or foolishness?

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. The notion of happily ever after seems so far away. Movies and T.V. teaches us that it’s possible—that if we’re lucky our other half will find us. I know that I believe in love, but I also know that once the idea has hooked itself into my mind it is all I can think about. It is because of this that I tend to avoid romance novels. I watched Anna Karenina before I read the book. Obviously, Keira Knightly and Aaron Taylor-Johnson are a sight to behold. Their chemistry is palpable; it is something you cannot get away from (in addition to Aaron’s glittering, cerulean eyes). Naturally, people told me the book was better, and of course, they were absolutely right.

When I read Anna Karenina, it pulled at my heartstrings. In Tolstoy’s world, to be selfish is to be in your most honest state, and to love is to give into the natural form of life. This novel follows the whirlwind affair of Anna and the handsome, submissive Vronsky. Despite her status as a married woman, Anna succumbs to the matters of the heart, and what follows is enough to make any person belief in love. Their romance unravels the very fabric of their society, shattering the expectation of the acceptable marriage, and questioning the true meaning of sacrifice. 

The characters exist for themselves, and as a reader I often found myself angry with them. They believe in their own purpose, and their devotion to themselves is alien when compared to the modern day understanding of love. It is admirable, yet frustrating, but Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina welcomes us to feel every emotion. I’ll admit it—the size of this novel is intimidating. The words are small, and Tolstoy’s prose is unrelenting. But I would be doing a disservice if I didn’t say that once I dove into this story, I was unable to swim out. 

Juliana Anuakpado is a Spring 2022 Editorial Intern.