War and Peace • Leo Tolstoy

After quite some time, here comes another review of a true heavyweight in the world of literature. In both senses of the word, since War and Peace is not only vast in scope but also offers a great deal of substance. Initially, I hadn’t planned on writing about the book, but the reading experience was simply too delightful, and the book itself so magnificent, that I just had to blog about it. Even though it’s hardly an insider’s tip and is one of the best-known works of world literature, I’ll let my own taste guide me here and write about it anyway. During my rereading of War and Peace, the characters, the descriptions, and the entire setting once again captivated and fascinated me. In this post, you’ll find out what makes this book so special to me.

War and Peace is a historical novel, a monumental work that portrays the lives of several people and families against the backdrop of Napoleon’s campaign against Russia. It vividly brings to life society, individual fates, historical contexts, war, and Russia itself. Many families and figures appear throughout the novel, but at its center are several recurring characters from the Russian aristocracy. There’s Pierre Bezukhov, the illegitimate son of a very wealthy count who eventually becomes his heir; Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, who at the beginning of the novel wishes to escape the boredom of aristocratic life by joining the military; and Nikolai Rostov, a young nobleman eager to join the hussars and win fame and honor in war. Also of great importance are Natasha Rostov, Nikolai’s sister, who reappears throughout the story, and Princess Marya, Andrei’s sister. Through these characters, Tolstoy introduces readers to the upper class of Russian society, depicting their lives and quickly immersing them in the military world to which all feel drawn. Yet the true main character of the book is war itself. Tolstoy keeps returning to it, describing Russia’s conflict with France and Napoleon’s campaign in Russia. The timeline spans from 1805 to 1812, chronicling the developments of the war from Austerlitz to Waterloo from the Russian perspective.

The book is, of course, a massive undertaking, and the Hanser edition spans 2,288 pages. So one must set aside a good deal of time to read it—but the reward is all the greater. The novel completely absorbed me. At first, it takes a little time to get used to the Russian names and to gain an overview of the many characters. Some years ago, I read the original version of War and Peace, published by Fischer Verlag, which is about 1,200 pages long and therefore not quite as extensive. Back then, I already knew that I wanted to read the more complete version. Since then, I had kept these Hanser volumes on my shelf, knowing full well what kind of pleasure awaited me.

Tolstoy revised and rewrote the book many times. The original version is based on the text Tolstoy initially wrote in 1867. Reconstructing it was apparently quite difficult, as Tolstoy had filled both sides of his manuscript pages with numerous corrections, which made it hard to distinguish between the original version and later revisions. In 1918, a staff member of the Tolstoy Museum spent decades reconstructing the original text. In 1983, it was finally published in the USSR, though only with scholarly commentary. It wasn’t until the year 2000 that the text was edited for general readers and translated into other languages.

There are several differences between the original and the “canonized” version of the novel. Among them, the philosophical excursions into history are more extensive. I can confirm this: I had braced myself for lengthy, tedious passages but actually found them engaging and enjoyable to read. The ending also differs, and of course, the length is a significant contrast. Personally, I preferred the original version—it conveys the essence of the story more directly and feels more cohesive—but both versions are of equally high quality. For readers with patience, who already enjoy Tolstoy’s works, I definitely recommend this more extensive edition.

The novel belongs to the realist tradition and combines many elements. On one hand, it is a social novel, beautifully portraying the culture and lifestyle of the upper classes of its time. At the same time, it traces the personal journeys of Pierre, Andrei, and Nikolai. That’s what I liked best about the book: especially Pierre and Andrei’s search for meaning and purpose in life. Tolstoy lets them experience all the highs and lows that come with that search. Their reflections on society, religion, and politics, the conclusions they draw, and their ongoing quest all give the novel great depth. It was fascinating to follow how differently Pierre and Andrei grapple with this central question and how real Tolstoy’s characters feel. One has the sense that these people truly lived (as, in fact, some historical figures did)—just as I always felt while reading Anna Karenina that I was reading a biography. The characters’ storylines are intricately interwoven, primarily through their families and social connections.

There are characters like Andrei’s father, the old prince, or the old Count Rostov—quintessential Russian originals. These many side characters give the book a great deal of authenticity and create a vivid picture that brings old Russia to life. Hélène, for example, perfectly embodies the aloof aristocrat, dazzling in her salon while utterly detached from reality. Natasha Rostov is a true free spirit and offers a glimpse into Russian culture, which at times feels very picturesque—such as during a winter hunt in the countryside followed by a feast with food, drink, and song, or a nighttime sleigh ride at Christmastime. Reading those scenes was a real pleasure.

Of course, the war and Napoleon’s campaign occupy a large part of the book. Tolstoy’s pacifist perspective on the military is both shocking and fascinating. The enthusiasm and admiration once shown toward Tsar Alexander, the high regard for the military—and the grim contrast of reality on the battlefield—are brilliantly portrayed. Tolstoy shows that Napoleon was neither a genius nor a great commander, depicts the disorganized Russian army, and—daring as this may sound—reminds me often of the same sort of dysfunction one finds in modern companies, where people seem primarily motivated by personal accolades. Numerous historical figures appear—Napoleon, Tsar Alexander, and generals such as Kutuzov and Bagration, among others.

Time and again, Tolstoy analyzes and interprets historical developments. In particular, he examines the roles of generals and political leaders, and with excellent reasoning, he downplays their significance—contradicting the historians of his time. There’s real philosophical value in this, since even today political actors—especially in our own media—are vastly overestimated. I found his analogy between historical interpretation and infinitesimal calculus especially brilliant, as well as his reference to the paradox of Achilles and the tortoise. In the end, little remains of the grandeur and supposed strategies of war. For Tolstoy, all the historical events, decisions, and actions of the commanders are the inevitable outcome of the countless individuals and circumstances that together shaped them—just as today’s political, social, and economic events arise from this diffuse, continuous sum. There’s an inherent determinism here, which one might call providence or fate, but ultimately it’s an unavoidable societal expression—much like current political trends in our own time. He convincingly argues that the more power a person wields, the less they act according to their own will, and he repeatedly supports this with strong examples. Especially in the epilogue, he revisits and expands these ideas in great detail.

The impact of war on the protagonists ties everything together. In this unstable political environment, they seek personal fulfillment. I found Andrei especially compelling as a character—both in his nature and in how Tolstoy develops him. His thoughts resonate on a universal level, giving the book something deeply human. It’s fascinating how he explores every possible path to find purpose—from a military career to withdrawal into private life, altruistic projects, or the search for true love. Even his flaws are perfectly believable and add to the realism of his portrayal.

Tolstoy lived from 1828 to 1910, and when the first version appeared in 1867, Napoleon’s campaign in Russia was already more than 50 years past. The extensive notes show how much research Tolstoy did in his attempt to depict actual events. The book feels authentic in its content and, along with its many characters, paints a remarkably realistic picture.

The subject matter might sound heavy, but I found reading the book very relaxing. The style isn’t difficult, and the prose flows smoothly. However, I do think it’s best to read it steadily rather than in small portions—otherwise, you might lose the thread. I had a similar feeling while reading Anna Karenina.

War and Peace has been adapted for film countless times. I got the DVD of the old adaptation starring Audrey Hepburn from the 1950s. There’s also a BBC adaptation from 2016, which tells the story in eight episodes. I watched the first few episodes—they’re beautifully done. For those who want to visualize the world of the book, it’s a nice complement, since while reading, I often wondered what the battles and the characters’ clothing might have really looked like. Still, the series is a bit like War and Peace for beginners—it includes the main storylines but is so condensed that much of the book is lost. That doesn’t surprise me and just proves that the novel can’t truly be filmed. The characters’ inner lives—the very essence of the book—are completely missing. The depictions of warfare and battles are heavily simplified, mostly reduced to scenes of gunfire. The philosophical reflections are entirely omitted. And the biggest disappointment: Princess Bolkonskaya’s sexy upper-lip mustache is missing altogether.

The Hanser edition is once again outstanding. The book is divided into two volumes printed on thin paper, making them compact and easy to handle. You don’t have to lug around a huge tome, yet you still get a beautifully made edition. The notes and afterword reflect a well-researched and high-quality translation. Barbara Conrad received an award for her translation, and she was clearly a top-tier translator at work here. I really like the cover design, and overall, it’s a visually striking edition. A second ribbon bookmark wouldn’t have hurt, but otherwise, the quality is excellent. The two volumes aren’t exactly cheap, but considering the amount of reading time they offer, they’re actually quite a bargain. For those hesitating, I can definitely recommend the original version from Fischer Verlag, which is much cheaper. It still delivers that quintessential War and Peace atmosphere and includes all the key story elements about the protagonists. The pages-per-euro ratio is even better there—but the Hanser deluxe edition certainly holds its own.

I also found the afterword very well done. It provides insight into the background of this book. For example, Tolstoy insisted that it was not a novel and that it had no resolution. You also learn quite a bit about Tolstoy himself—his experiences in the Caucasus War, his admiration for Rousseau, and the influence of Stendhal’s The Charterhouse of Parma (especially the Waterloo scenes). He did extensive research for the historical details, interviewing eyewitnesses and even visiting the battlefield of Borodino to make sketches of the troop formations. The connection to Rousseau doesn’t surprise me, especially when you think of Tolstoy’s descriptions of an ideal agricultural estate at the end—it strongly echoes the ideals Rousseau expresses in Julie, or the New Heloise.

Conclusion: War and Peace is one of the most versatile and fascinating books I have ever read. It is a social novel, a historical novel, a Bildungsroman; it is philosophical yet personal, realistic, and filled with authentic, lifelike people. The historical backdrop of Napoleon’s Russian campaign, as well as the depiction of society at that time, deeply impressed me. I could easily empathize with the protagonists, especially Prince Andrei, whose search for fulfillment and meaning in life is masterfully portrayed. I don’t think one can ever exhaustively describe or analyze this book—you simply have to read it. For me, it’s certain that this won’t be the last time I pick it up. Too fascinating is this intricate web of people, families, society, culture, and the unflinching portrayal of war. Truly, a masterpiece of world literature.

Book information: War and Peace • Leo Tolstoy • Hanser Verlag • 2,288 pages • ISBN 3446235752