Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy (best sci fi novels of all time TXT) đź“•
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Resurrection, the last full-length novel written by Leo Tolstoy, was published in 1899 after ten years in the making. A humanitarian cause—the pacifist Doukhobor sect, persecuted by the Russian government, needed funds to emigrate to Canada—prompted Tolstoy to finish the novel and dedicate its ensuing revenues to alleviate their plight. Ultimately, Tolstoy’s actions were credited with helping hundreds of Doukhobors emigrate to Canada.
The novel centers on the relationship between Nekhlúdoff, a Russian landlord, and Máslova, a prostitute whose life took a turn for the worse after Nekhlúdoff wronged her ten years prior to the novel’s events. After Nekhlúdoff happens to sit in the jury for a trial in which Máslova is accused of poisoning a merchant, Nekhlúdoff begins to understand the harm he has inflicted upon Máslova—and the harm that the Russian state and society inflicts upon the poor and marginalized—as he embarks on a quest to alleviate Máslova’s suffering.
Nekhlúdoff’s process of spiritual awakening in Resurrection serves as a framing for many of the novel’s religious and political themes, such as the hypocrisy of State Christianity and the injustice of the penal system, which were also the subject of Tolstoy’s nonfiction treatise on Christian anarchism, The Kingdom of God Is Within You. The novel also explores the “single tax” economic theory propounded by the American economist Henry George, which drives a major subplot in the novel concerning the management of Nekhlúdoff’s estates.
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- Author: Leo Tolstoy
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“It seems the officer is ashamed of himself,” she shouted, so as to be heard above the rattle of the wheels. “BousĂłvkin’s manacles have been removed, and he is carrying his little girl himself. KatĂşsha and SĂmonson are with him, and VĂ©ra, too. She has taken my place.”
KryltzĂłff said something that could not be heard because of the noise, and frowning in the effort to repress his cough shook his head. Then NekhlĂşdoff stooped towards him, so as to hear, and KryltzĂłff, freeing his mouth of the handkerchief, whispered:
“Much better now. Only not to catch cold.”
Nekhlúdoff nodded in acquiescence, and again exchanged a glance with Mary Pávlovna.
“How about the problem of the three bodies?” whispered Kryltzóff, smiling with great difficulty. “The solution is difficult.”
NekhlĂşdoff did not understand, but Mary Pávlovna explained that he meant the well-known mathematical problem which defined the position of the sun, moon and earth, which KryltzĂłff compared to the relations between NekhlĂşdoff, KatĂşsha and SĂmonson. KryltzĂłff nodded, to show that Mary Pávlovna had explained his joke correctly.
“The decision does not lie with me,” Nekhlúdoff said.
“Did you get my note? Will you do it?” Mary Pávlovna asked.
“Certainly,” answered NekhlĂşdoff; and noticing a look of displeasure on KryltzĂłff’s face, he returned to his conveyance, and holding with both hands to the sides of the cart, got in, which jolted with him over the ruts of the rough road. He passed the gang, which, with its grey cloaks and sheepskin coats, chains and manacles, stretched over three-quarters of a mile of the road. On the opposite side of the road NekhlĂşdoff noticed KatĂşsha’s blue shawl, VĂ©ra DoĂşkhova’s black coat, and SĂmonson’s crochet cap, white worsted stockings, with bands, like those of sandals, tied round him. SĂmonson was walking with the woman and carrying on a heated discussion.
When they saw NekhlĂşdoff they bowed to him, and SĂmonson raised his hat in a solemn manner. NekhlĂşdoff, having nothing to say, did not stop, and was soon ahead of the carts. Having got again on to a smoother part of the road, they drove still more quickly, but they had continually to turn aside to let pass long rows of carts that were moving along the road in both directions.
The road, which was cut up by deep ruts, lay through a thick pine forest, mingled with birch trees and larches, bright with yellow leaves they had not yet shed. By the time NekhlĂşdoff had passed about half the gang he reached the end of the forest. Fields now lay stretched along both sides of the road, and the crosses and cupolas of a monastery appeared in the distance. The clouds had dispersed, and it had cleared up completely; the leaves, the frozen puddles and the gilt crosses and cupolas of the monastery glittered brightly in the sun that had risen above the forest. A little to the right mountains began to gleam white in the blue-grey distance, and the trap entered a large village. The village street was full of people, both Russians and other nationalities, wearing peculiar caps and cloaks. Tipsy men and women crowded and chattered round booths, traktĂrs, public houses and carts. The vicinity of a town was noticeable. Giving a pull and a lash of the whip to the horse on his right, the driver sat down sideways on the right edge of the seat, so that the reins hung over that side, and with evident desire of showing off, he drove quickly down to the river, which had to be crossed by a ferry. The raft was coming towards them, and had reached the middle of the river. About twenty carts were waiting to cross. NekhlĂşdoff had not long to wait. The raft, which had been pulled far up the stream, quickly approached the landing, carried by the swift waters. The tall, silent, broad-shouldered, muscular ferryman, dressed in sheepskins, threw the ropes and moored the raft with practised hand, landed the carts that were on it, and put those that were waiting on the bank on board. The whole raft was filled with vehicles and horses shuffling at the sight of the water. The broad, swift river splashed against the sides of the ferryboats, tightening their moorings.
When the raft was full, and Nekhlúdoff’s cart, with the horses taken out of it, stood closely surrounded by other carts on the side of the raft, the ferryman barred the entrance, and, paying no heed to the prayers of those who had not found room in the raft, unfastened the ropes and set off.
All was quiet on the raft; one could hear nothing but the tramp of the ferryman’s boots and the horses changing from foot to foot.
XXINekhlĂşdoff stood on the edge of the raft looking at the broad river. Two pictures kept rising up in his mind. One, that of KryltzĂłff, unprepared for death and dying, made a heavy, sorrowful impression on him. The other, that of KatĂşsha, full of energy, having gained the love of such a man as SĂmonson, and found a true and solid path towards righteousness, should have been pleasant, yet it also created a heavy impression on
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