War and Peace

I’d recommend this to those:

• Deeply fond of history
• On some kind of break/vacation with nothing to do
• Who’ve read and enjoyed Les Misérables (remarkably similar in format)

Online, this book is praised as “the greatest book in history.” My friends from countries where this book is school reading, however, say “everyone hates that book, it’s so boring, you’re lying if you say it’s good.” If you ask me, the book is neither of these extremeties. It’s rocky and drawn-out, but deep and immersive. The style is conventional, banal, but the characters are vivid. The book is somewhere in the midst of good and bad; whether you should read it is very subjective.

The chief flaw is its abysmal formatting. The book is like a poorly mixed salad with all the tomatoes on one side, the lettuce on the other. The first 500 pages, stuffed with superfluous characters and scandals, are essentially a buildup to the last 900, a whirlwind of excitement and tragedy. True, the first half isn’t totally dry, but the book feels uneven. And the epilogue was disastrous -- in a typical book, an epilogue is a brief reflection or a glimpse at characters’ fates. In War and Peace, the epilogue is one hundred pages long, introducing more subplots; then, apropos of nothing, it crams in a repetitive, convoluted discussion of history and free will.

The primary charm of the book is its atmosphere and immersiveness. You’re engrossed in the lives of hundreds of characters from all social classes. You’re a guest to extravagant feasts, witness to their drama and scandals; then in a regiment, then in a hunting party in the woods, then in a hospital of wounded soldiers, then a Masonic lodge, then Moscow, deserted before it burns down. You watch characters be born, grow up, and say their last words; you watch them fall in love or leave for war. Tolstoy interviewed hundreds of people to write this book, and it shows -- he brings to life the liveliness, the bustle, the growing restlessness and nationalism of a country gradually invaded.

The book attempts to be both a history book and literary fiction. While Tolstoy’s dedication is impressive, the book fails to please both audiences. It’s too fictional for historians, too technical for average readers. Tolstoy bores the layman reader with hundreds of historical figures and battle plans, discussing military strategy in excruciating detail; he confuses historians by putting historical figures in fictional scenes. It only appeals to the narrow audience of those who love both literature and history. There, though, Tolstoy offers interesting insights about how war works, and who turns the gears of the world.

Some of his commentary is brilliant, some asinine. He deconstructs the idea that the world is wholly in the hands of a few geniuses, like Napoleon; he offers intead in-depth explanations of how rivalries in the military, mob mentality, and society all work together to create and crumble empires. He claims these factors all stem from an invisible, singular force: fate. Initially, I agreed, but sometimes, this "fate" is merely an explanation that substitutes his lack of further knowledge. For example, he fails to reconcile how the Enlightenment caused the French Revolution -- how could the peaceful, democratic works of French philosophers have led to such violence? "Due to fate?" This fails to acknowledge the mass starvation, mob mentality, and rage towards class inequality that filled the French people. Most of his philosophy was good, but in the end, it had grown winding, flawed, and vexatious.

Intertwining several generations of families, the book’s characters have timeless, familiar personalities. Take Anatole -- a rich kid riding around in his friend’s horse carriage as fast as possible, cracking the whip on peasants as he passes, constantly gambling and partying. He’s like the 1800s version of a Miami frat boy who does nothing but party, drink, and drive his dad’s Mercedes. Or Pierre, who just moved in from France and has no idea what’s going on; he just tries to be nice and blindly follow what others are doing, which somehow gets him in trouble. Nikolai, the chivalrous but reckless young hussar who, in one night, loses the equivalent of a million dollars gambling.

Yet all his characters become mere pawns to advance Tolstoy’s religious, traditional themes. Tolstoy’s books express a narrow view of happiness. He thinks you can only be content by living a traditional life on a farm, or by having a dramatic, deathbed religious awakening; to him, everything else is ridiculous. But because of this, his characters ultimately fall flat. For example, one character enjoys singing, going to balls, playing the piano, she’s very lively and charming... And in the end, she becomes a stern, unsmiling housewife who cares about nothing more than tending the home. To Tolstoy, this is moral growth, because he asserts that women merely sing and dress up to charm men. He thinks women can only find fulfillment as ascetic housewives. But what if women enjoy singing and dressing up simply because it’s how they express themselves, because it’s their personality? It’s the same for the men -- once wrapped up in the excitement of military and urban life, they’re awkwardly twisted into pious, humble farmers. Their individuality is crumpled by Tolstoy’s relentless didacticism.

Compared to books in general, War and Peace was certainly impressive, and I can see why it’s a classic. But compared to other classics, I’d say it was merely average. Perhaps its reputation, loved and feared, was only due to its length and breadth of topics. Then again, reading too many Romantic-era novels has jaded me, and I might’ve found it boring simply because I’ve read too many similar books. (Or because I'd neglect my health to read it for six hours a day.)

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Page created July 2026.