Category Archives: War and Peace

Three qualities of Tolstoy’s writing you can use to improve your own

I am always hunting for information on how to write better.  Most of what I find I’ve found before.  But occasionally I find new insights, as I did last week when I read a biography of the Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy by A. N. Wilson.

Tolstoy is considered a literary genius based on his two most famous novels, War and Peace (published serially beginning in 1865), and Anna Karenina (1875).  I learned three important ideas to improve my writing from reading Wilson’s biography.

First, Tolstoy’s stories contain “hardly an incident, conversation or character” that is not autobiographical, according to Wilson.  War and Peace “evolved out of Tolstoy’s purely private preoccupations and fantasies with his own family.” “Almost every particle of War and Peace bears a relation to something in Tolstoy’s personal experience.”

His epic story of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia centers on the Rostovs, a family based on his wife’s real family, the Bers.  The animated Natasha Rostov is based on the personality of Tolstoy’s young sister-in-law, Tatyana Bers.  When Tolstoy’s wife, Sofya, was pregnant and unwell, Tolstoy took Tatyana to a ball. Their experience becomes the famous ball scene in which Natasha dances with Prince Andrey.  Princess Marya’s isolated existence in the countryside is based on Tolstoy’s mother’s and wife’s lives, one imagined and one observed.  His own life as a soldier in the Crimean War became the basis for the Nikolay Rostov’s fighting Napoleon.

Second, Tolstoy’s characters are so believable because he knew most of them intimately as real people.  While writing, he infused himself into their souls as he brought them to life.  He became each character as he wrote, finding aspects of each character that we, the readers, can sympathize with.  Each character “is imagined with all the intensity of Tolstoy’s being.  He is each character.”

Tolstoy took people born a generation or more after the events of 1812 and transposed their ages and relationships.  The characters were so true to life that his family recognized themselves as they read the pages of the novel.

He also used his eye for telling details to make his characters believable.  For example, Princes Marya practiced “a Dusek sonata, the difficult passages repeated twenty times.”  The Rostov carriage “dove down the straw-laid street.”  Jealous Sonya “turned pale, then red, and tried as hard as she cold to hear what Nikolai and Julie were saying to each other.”

Third, Tolstoy focuses on scenes, not on plot or historical accuracy.  In Anna Karenina, the first part of the story moves from one scene to another:  Stiva’s half-hearted regret for his affair with the French governess, Levin’s club dinner with Stiva, Levin’s meeting with Kitty at the ice skating rink, Anna’s arrival at the Moscow train station where she meets Vronsky, the home party where Kitty refuses Levin’s proposal, the dance where Kitty realizes Vronsky is in love with Anna, the snowy train scene where Anna is agitated by memories of Vronsky.  Each scene contains one essential quality:  the forward thrust of life.  These scenes are like short stories strung loosely together by the actions of repeating characters.

Of course, analyzing a great writer, and understanding what makes his or her writing great, does not guarantee that a writer will write well.  I have heard some people advise to hand write, word for word, a paragraph of a great writer, and then to substitute words to make your own writing great.

A much better idea, I think, is to look at these three qualities of Tolstoy’s writing and incorporate them into your own fiction.  Base characters on people you know well.  Describe them as completely as you can, warts and all.  And show them off in scenes where they live fully.

Do you read like an editor?

I do, and I wish sometimes I could turn off my editing instinct.

For instance, last week I  reread Pride and Prejudice.  Everything was fine until I reached chapter 10.  There, the heroine, Elizabeth, is sparring verbally with Mr. Darcy, a stranger to whom she has taken a dislike, when the author reveals that “Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her.”

Now, had I been Jane Austen’s editor, I would have told her to leave out this line and all future lines alluding to Mr. Darcy’s falling in love with Elizabeth Bennett.  Instead, let us, the readers, discover that Darcy is in love with Elizabeth the same way Elizabeth does, with his abrupt proposal of marriage.  To Elizabeth, this proposal comes out of nowhere, but not to us.  Since we, the readers, are identifying with Elizabeth as we read, let us feel the same profound shock she does at this startling announcement.

Another book I edit as I read is War and Peace.  Near its end, two of the main characters, Pierre and Natasha, meet up again after years separated by the Napoleonic Wars.  That is where the book should end (spoiler alert) with them falling in love.  Tolstoy should not have included the anticlimatical scene which occurs several years past that time.

Even Shakespeare doesn’t get a pass with me.  Every time I reread  Romeo and Juliet, I find Mercutio more fascinating than Romeo.  But what does Shakespeare do?  He kills off Mercutio in Act III.  Ugg!  What Shakespeare should have done was to recognize that he had created a mesmerizing minor character and made him the major character.  He should have rewritten the play to have the man-of-the-world, Mercutio, fall for innocent Juliet.  What a contrast!

But alas, Austen, Tolstoy and Shakespeare didn’t consult with me.