The Book That (Slightly) Changed My Life

tolstoyOne popular parlor game is making a list of books that “changed one’s life.” If I were to create a list, it would border on Hyperbole, a rogue nation if ever there was one. Influential books? In another country (with apologies to Hemingway) entirely.

When I was still in college, I read and enjoyed Tolstoy’s two giants, War and Peace and Anna Karenina. I was taken most with Levin in AK, Tolstoy’s autobiographical character, and I even named my new puppy (long gone to the puppy fields in the sky) after Levin’s hunting dog (Laska, for you trivia buffs).

In W&P the characters of Pierre, Nikolai, and Andrei fascinated me. Nikolai’s sister, Natasha, too. These men were probably splintered versions of Levin. And Natasha? An idealized woman for Tolstoy: young, pretty, intellectual, the equal of any man.

Anyway, the influential book was neither Anna Karenina nor War & Peace, it was Tolstoy’s Diary (expurgated, alas), of which I found a cool old copy gathering dust in the stacks at my university library. I read it twice in one winter  — the same winter I plowed through all of Ivan Turgenev’s novels (that was one Russkie Winter!).

Young Tolstoy was obsessed with self-improvement, both spiritually and physically. Taken with Benjamin Franklin’s works and thoughts, he kept “Franklin Journals” in his diary, vowing, say, to write for two hours the next morning after doing exercise for an hour, not to mention to acting more kindly to this one and tolerating more sufficiently that one.

What cracked me up was how horrible Tolstoy was at the Franklin method (I imagine Franklin — that cagey hypocrite — was horrible, too). The next day Tolstoy would sternly excoriate himself for the preceding day’s failures: he got drunk (again) when he said he wouldn’t, he gambled (again) at cards when he promised he’d avoid it, he partied all night (again) like any rich Russian noble should (because he could!), and he winked at a pleasant peasant lass (again), following her (again) into the barn to make hay while the sun shined (outside).

Young Tolstoy, so pitifully human and honest, so good-intentioned, and such a wonderful failure, appealed to the college me, a kid with every intention of leading the writing life (and already gaining credits and a worthy GPA in the partying life).

Of course, for Tolstoy, all of these good intentions would be echoed later in life, when the prospect of impending death did what the youthful Franklin Journals failed to do — pushed him not only to compliance but to a kind of fanatic extremism (one that would ruin some of his writing by making it didactic and overly religious). Old age finally had pushed this “seer of the flesh” (as the Russian critic Dmitri Merezhkovsky called him) to becoming something he, at heart, wasn’t — a “seer of the spirit” like Dostoevsky (another kettle of sturgeon entirely).

So, yeah. Loved Tolstoy’s Diary. It didn’t change my life (my wife took care of that), but it was so-o-o relatable. In the Diary, I found and followed up on some of his readings at the time, too (Pushkin, Sterne, Dickens, Rousseau, Lermontov, and the aforementioned Turgenev, for example). Because of the Diary, I read and fell in love with Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time, Turgenev’s Sportsman’s Sketches, and Pushkin’s Belkin’s Tales.

I even tried my own Franklin Journals briefly. Like the master, I failed roaringly.

Young Tolstoy would be proud.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “The Book That (Slightly) Changed My Life

  1. Whew! What a great question this is. I have heard it before and can not answer it with one title. What kind of change? I have read some Tolstoy too. I thought I had to extend the context of this inquiry for me in order to bring it to grips with living whether in my own world or the world of us all. Tolstoy like others are stacked on what they read. As we age the pressures on our makeup age and what made sense earlier no longer has the same weight. Worse is, the cultures of the various societies in the world surrounding (everyone) is in flux. That is true more now than any time since the proliferation of books and writing because of publishing technology. When I think of the various political and religious manifestos and what they have done, I don’t feel anything I ever read is able to be significantly life changing other than in my current psyche. After world wars and trampled borders physically and psychologically, marriages, children, etc. I feel like the books that changed me the most are the ones I wrote. Discounting those, I have to say 50,000 Leagues Under the Sea was a big life changing one that remains timeless because it forced me to realize that controlling my life is my own dilemma and ultimately that will be a struggle with events and people I can not always control. Its kind of the human experience personified.

    Like

    • Yes, we love to “control” and to “know,” but so much of life is “uncontrollable” and “unknown.” Guess we have to embrace that as a good thing, though sometimes it is a mighty inconvenient thing!

      Like

  2. I am guilty of contributing to the ‘books that changed my life’ sphere. I get it, it’s laughable at best. But my intention is pure, like the Young Tolstoy. Greetings from Malaysia!

    Like

      • Well, sigh.

        I genuinely belief Think & Grow Rich changed the way I view the world at least as of now. The other one is Victor Frankl’s Man Search for Meaning. But Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now also deserved a mention.

        Your books mentioned above sounds delicious although I have yet to sample any of Tolstoy (yet).

        Oh, drowning in the sea of books ‘that changed my life’.

        Like

      • No need to jump into one of Tolstoy’s GIANT books. Instead, just sample one of his stories, such as “The Cossacks,” “Father Sergius,” “Master and Man,” or “The Death of Ivan Ilych.” I have not heard of ANY of your books, though I have heard the name Victor Frankl (maybe when reading texts related to Elie Wiesel’s NIGHT, which I teach). In any event, I understand your frustration. So many books, so little time to exist…

        Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s