The Weight of Desire, Molecular Parallels in Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Introduction

Written between 1873 and 1877, Anna Karenina is undoubtedly one of the most popular novels in the history of literature. Tolstoy presents with rich realism the dramas of Russian high society, portraying characters constructed without manichaeism, exposed fully with their vices and virtues. The entire narrative unfolds in a play of light and shadow, where illumination reveals the totality of events as the light source shifts, with each angle temporarily lit revealing details that were never hidden, only concealed in the shadows.

The narrative construction delves into the human psyche while at the same time the unfolding plot is collective and social. Literary realism is presented both in the subtleties of subjective construction and in the political and moral institutions present in everyday itineraries. In this sense, we approach the concepts of molar and molecular as presented by Deleuze and Guattari in the chapter Micropolitics and Segmentarity. There is no absolute difference between the social and the individual, the individual is a product of collective signifying codifications. The real difference lies between a field of molar codes and representations and a field of molecular desires. These are two poles in a dynamic relationship, a macro-molar and a micro-molecular. It is important to note that these poles do not differ in size or duration, it is not a matter of big and small, but rather different systems of codification and reference.

Transposing these concepts to literature, specifically in the novel Anna Karenina, we can broaden the luminous spectrum, using the play of light and shadow to reveal parallels that allow us a detailed diagnosis of the society contemporary to Tolstoy.

In this essay, we intend to use philosophical concepts to expose, within the architecture of the text, the social and individual relationships within the political-social landscape of the time. In this way, we can understand literary realism as a precise indicator of a society in transition, enabling reflection on our contemporary society.

Pairs and Parallels

The novel Anna Karenina began to be published between 1875 and 1877 in serialized chapters in the issues of the magazine The Russian Messenger, however, the publication was interrupted before the conclusion. Still in 1877, the author compiled the chapters with the ending, leading to the publication of the complete novel. The way the text is constructed reveals the minutiae of the social fabric through the daily lives of the characters. The author's genius creates a unique narrative structure; Tolstoy himself writes in a letter about the architecture of the novel: “Its arches are connected in such a way that one cannot perceive where the keystone is. I strove for this with all my might. The cohesion of the structure is not based on the plot or the relationships (the knowledge) between the characters, but on an internal cohesion.” Tolstoy shows us that even the protagonists are mere secondary characters in light of the lines that sustain the plot.

Social pressures and pretensions, relationships of power and subservience, imposed moral rules, and the minor immoralities socially accepted, the rituals of power, idle functionalism, and the harshness of labor are the foundations of the internal cohesion that make the characters so human and the narrative so dense and real. An invisible architecture leads the reader to understand each character from different angles, a play of light and shadow without secrets, life and society exposed from the bare layers to the pompous moral attire.

In this narrative architecture, pairs and parallelisms are important pillars. At the center of the book is the pair Anna Karenina and Konstantin Levin. Stories that occur in parallel, at times distancing from or converging with one another. This main pair unfolds into other pairs, most notably, the city and the countryside. This connection is crucial for understanding the depth of the work; on one side, the idle opulence of the capitals (St. Petersburg and Moscow, another important pair), and on the other, the harshness of rural life. The parallels bring forth the molar and molecular lines, making it clear that in each pole, there are different segments where places and individuals are codified through social signs. In this way, there is an index of impersonality that transcends individuality, transforming subjects, places, and institutions into provisional constructions within the space-time dynamic.

Thus, the cities are portrayed as characters with their own distinct characteristics; for instance, the capitals are depicted as expensive places whose daily life revolves around the social relations of nobles and civil servants. Meanwhile, the countryside is portrayed as a bucolic and simple life of hard labor. This relationship between the countryside and the city serves as a starting point for philosophical and political discussions that diagnose a social and economic crisis.

The city-countryside parallel, as architected by Tolstoy, highlights the political-economic relations behind the individual plots. Going further, through this pair, it is possible to emphasize the constitutive lines of the processes of subjectivation that make each character unique. By scrutinizing the different aspects of a society in transition, we delve deeper into the literary work.

The City and the Countryside

We can say that within the narrative hierarchy, Konstantin Levin is the only character on the same level as Anna. Even though throughout the entire narrative they only meet in person once, the construction of the story is balanced by the simultaneity of the two oppositely complementary stories.

The connection between Anna and Levin is the Shcherbatsky family, particularly the sisters Dolly and Kitty. Dolly is married to Oblonsky, Anna's brother, and this is presented to the reader right at the beginning of the story. The first scene of the book shows Oblonsky waking up in his office, where he slept after an argument with his wife, who, through letters, discovered her husband's affair with the governess.

Waking up after a restless night, Oblonsky seeks ways to appease his wife and save the marriage, and to do so, he calls on the help of his sister Anna. At the time, Anna lives in St. Petersburg and soon travels to Moscow to help her brother, talking with her sister-in-law, for whom she has genuine affection. It is during this visit that Anna meets Vronsky, who is at that moment courting the young Kitty Shcherbatsky, Dolly's sister. This arrangement is one of the foundations for the construction of the novel; Anna and Vronsky quickly fall in love, initiating the two-year narrative arc of their passion's peak and the derailment of reason, leading toward the psychotic state that culminates in Anna's desperate end.

Simultaneously with this narrative line, another unfolds, this one led by Konstantin Levin. Unlike most of the characters who naturally circulate within the social circles of the two capitals (St. Petersburg and Moscow), Levin feels at ease only in the rural settings of the countryside, experiencing discomfort and restlessness in the daily life of big cities. At the beginning of the narrative, Levin is in Moscow, though reluctantly, for a specific reason: to propose marriage to Kitty Shcherbatsky.

Levin is a childhood friend of Oblonsky and similarly grew up around the Shcherbatsky family. When his friend married one of the sisters, it seemed almost natural to Levin that destiny had reserved the younger Shcherbatsky sister for him. However, although this seemed to be the story that fate had reserved for him, Kitty rejects Levin’s proposal at that moment, as she expects Vronsky to propose to her on the same day. The outcome is well-known: Anna and Vronsky fall in love, and the marriage proposal never materializes. Kitty falls ill due to her intense heartbreak, and Levin returns to the countryside with a broken heart.

The development of these two narratives forms the main threads through which the story progresses. While Anna inhabits the opulent and costly life of high society, Levin is concerned with managing his farm, with planting, harvesting, and all the subtle technical and social details involved.

While Anna occupies a dreamlike position, hovering between a pleasant dream and a nightmare, Levin’s character is grounded in the harshness of labor and open-eyed philosophical musings. At this point, Janet Malcolm's afterword becomes relevant, highlighting the dreamlike atmosphere present in the narrative, filled with balls, frills, receptions, and endless conversations always full of decorum.

The parallelism between the city and the countryside is marked by oppositions, conveyed to the reader through the characters’ experiences. It is through the characters’ eyes that the reader glimpses the social, political, and financial fabric. In this sense, the difference in the cost of living between rural and urban areas is striking. The high cost of living in the city is a constant topic. For Levin, a noble landowner, the expenses of the big city make no sense. A notable scene occurs during one of his stays in Moscow, where Levin constantly compares what he considers superfluous expenses with those of the countryside. For him, it is tormenting to spend 100 rubles on uniforms for the servants, while that same amount equals two seasons of a muzhik's labor. In the city, money has a completely different social value than it does in the countryside.

The inflated city requires money to circulate to maintain its modus operandi, with financial values vastly different from the symbolic and social values of goods and services. In this same scene, after spending 20 rubles on something he considers unnecessary, Levin reflects on how many kilograms of oats that same money could buy, and how long those oats could feed a horse. There is a clear chasm between the rural and the urban, a gulf that separates the poverty of the majority of the population from the opulence of the noble class.

Products in the capitals are heavily inflated compared to the prices in rural areas. The same items have completely different prices depending on where they are sold. However, even though bread is expensive in Moscow, Levin faces difficulties selling his wheat at a price he considers fair.

Among all rural landowners, from the great nobles to the small landholders, complaints about the state of the countryside abound. Farms are unprofitable, it is expensive to cultivate the land, yet the final price of agricultural products does not increase. Workers earn little, for a large portion, they receive only what is necessary to survive. Money does not stay in the countryside, inputs are sold at low prices to sustain the costly opulence of high society.

The discomfort with the city and the mental effort to understand his own subjective position lead Levin to engage in philosophical studies about politics and labor. It is important to remember that the narrative takes place in Russia in the 1870s, in a setting still characterized by feudal traits, which places the Russian rural worker, the muzhik, in a unique position. Levin empathetically understands this position, and his effort to articulate it in philosophical terms drives him to study various schools of thought, none of which satisfy him. For Levin, it is essential to prioritize the human element, placing the worker at the center of any political and social discussion.

To delve into this issue, we can evoke a scene as an example: in one of the many philosophical and political conversations with his brother, the topic is the construction of railroads and the ease of transportation provided by trains. Levin is clear in his position: the way the railroads are being built is not only superfluous but also detrimental to the countryside. The rail lines aim to connect urban centers, especially between Moscow and St. Petersburg, these routes facilitate the circulation of capital and speculation, primarily serving the transportation of nobles and public servants who earn money without actually producing anything. Meanwhile, there are no routes linking the countryside to the city that facilitate the flow of production or expedite the circulation of agricultural inputs.

This passage is almost prophetic when Levin makes it clear that the valuation of money produced without labor is one of the reasons for the social crisis. The conversations and experiences are utilized as a way to shift the focus of light, employing a micro-social level to expose macro-social relations. Starting from the individual leads to the collective, conversely, revealing the macro-social fabric uncovers the constitutive lines of subjectivity. Through Levin’s yearnings and desires, we experience a perspective where rural labor is the true wealth of the nation, where ultimately the rural worker is the great pillar of society. However, this aspect is ignored while public servants earn fortunes executing tasks that amount to little more than rituals within the bureaucratic capitalist theater.

The Poverty of the Worker, the Wealth of the Idle

Stefan Oblonsky is a unique character within the narrative. Married to Doly Cherbátski and father of a large family, Oblonsky is a public servant. His character is distinctive, amid the dense plot, he is one of the few capable of starring in comedic moments. Although his libertine nature casts him as an antihero, he is one of those characters it is impossible not to sympathize with. Always cheerful and good-humored, he is invariably greeted with joy and smiles. He occupies a position for which he has no qualifications, and the text does not clarify what his actual role is. Between trips to the office and conversations at the department, Oblonsky’s work seems to consist of social situations, most often accompanied by much drinking.

Despite his good salary as "Chamberlain of the Court," Oblonsky is deep in debt due to his libertine spending habits. In light of these financial issues, he decides to seek a new position and applies for an open role in the "joint commission of the mutual credit agency and balance of the southern railway and banking institutions." This new position becomes his dedicated goal. Oblonsky knows he lacks the qualifications for the role, but he also realizes that the specifications are so narrow that there is unlikely to be anyone capable of filling them, making the basic requirement of the position "honesty", a specific alignment with the government and social institutions.

The position is ideal for Oblonsky since he will not need to leave his current job, and with this accumulation of roles, his annual salary will greatly increase. The high salary is the only motive guiding Oblonsky; in his thoughts, he attempts to justify the real utility of the new position but gets lost in sophistry and justifications without truly arriving at the relevance of such a well-paid job. In a scene near the end of the book, Oblonsky's father-in-law remarks:

“He just received a position as a member of some commission, I don’t remember which. But he doesn’t do anything in the commission… Oh, Dolly, that’s no secret! And with a salary of eight thousand rubles. You should ask him if his service is useful. He will show you that it is the most necessary thing in the world. And he’s an honest man, for it’s impossible not to believe in the utility of eight thousand rubles.”

This statement supports the position of other characters who observe that the high salaries and the increasing number of invented roles are symptoms of a sick government, one that lacks control over public spending. National capital is used to sustain a wealthy and exploitative class, waving the patriotic banner while having no real connection to the majority of the population.

Lievi cannot accept these bureaucratic expenditures, which bear no relation to the reality of work. To think through this point, the issue of railway construction is interesting, a concrete metaphor for the strengthening of speculative bureaucracy at the expense of the precarization of real labor. The capitals, connected and built with luxury, stand while the poverty of the countryside remains isolated.

The expansion of the railway network, framed as a state interest, created a series of new jobs, institutions, and expenditures. For Lievi, it is completely absurd that a man who intermediated the legal signatures for the construction earns more than all the workers who actually built the railroads. The distance between these two realities seems insurmountable. On one side is a mass of workers with low wages, while on the other side are a few individuals in commissions with high salaries.

For Lievi, the true wealth of the nation lies in the working people—the millions scattered across the territory, often without political connection or knowledge. However, it is the nobles and bureaucrats who are the guardians of the patriotic banner, using rhetoric to justify a costly lifestyle that relies on the devaluation of real labor. It is astonishing to think that this social portrait is over a century old, the similarities are so contemporary that they help us understand how archaic current institutions are. Both in the realm of macro-institutional segments and in the molecularly imposed moralities, the narrative construction of the novel is precise in revealing the foundational threads of social relations that codify the experience of being an individual.

Dynamic Poles

In Anna Karenina, Tolstoy constructs a portrait of life with all the complexities of everyday existence. The architecture of the plot connects the characters while simultaneously dissecting each individual, revealing that in each one reside choices that are more than individual. Anna, the lady of high society, involved in an extramarital affair and treated as a pariah by society, has behind her appearances a story built upon submission to an arranged marriage with a husband she does not love. Anna's case, no matter how individual it may seem in its unfolding, is the result of social constructs that position women as objects to be arranged into a good marriage.

An interesting detail, roughly midway through the narrative, is when Anna undergoes a near-death experience. At this moment, Aleksei, the betrayed husband, forgives her, in an act of benevolence, he decides to grant her a divorce and custody of their child. The divorce and custody of the child are Anna's two greatest desires since the beginning of her affair with Vronsky, however, she refuses them when offered. Anna flees, abandoning her child without the divorce. At another point, Anna revisits the issues of divorce and custody, but this time, a year later, Aleksei denies her request, which contributes to the character's existential crisis.

What leads Anna to refuse the divorce? A solution that, at this moment, would represent her return to society and a sort of moral redemption. However, this is impossible for Anna, she feels the weight of religious and moral institutions, subjective constructs that are both intimate and socially significant. The name of the husband, the name of the lover, the nameless woman, in her mental confusion, Anna struggles with the pieces of the puzzle without being able to fit them together. Deep down, she knows she no longer belongs to society, that returning to social circles is a fantasy to which she must submit while carrying the name of a man, whether that be her current husband or the new husband from the divorce.

The richness of the novel lies in the multiplicity that occurs on the surface. There is no depth in the text, in the sense that there are no relationships of mystery or hidden discourses; everything unfolds in a relationship of light and shadow, with light and shadow being a dynamic that depends on where the light source is.

The existential questions present in Konstantin Levin differ from those of Anna, yet they are complementary. Levin, with a broken heart after Kitty's rejection, dedicates himself to a philosophical quest for meaning in his life. He does not understand the daily performance in which his social peers partake, he sees the lifestyle of the capitals as superficial and idle, devoid of any purpose. Upon marrying Kitty, this impression is accentuated, and the rural lifestyle acquires a non-religious beatitude that ultimately guides the character toward a tranquil happiness.

The complementary opposition occurs from the beginning to the end of the book. Right from the start, there is an opposition between Anna's passionate happiness and Levin's melancholic disappointment. As Anna's happiness transforms into jealousy and solitude, Levin's feelings shift to joyful hope for rekindling his relationship with Kitty. In the end, this inversion is complete, with the conclusion representing a total opposition. It is no coincidence that the entire final part of the book is dedicated to Levin and his family, creating a happiness that, in a certain light, appears as the realization of the social aspirations of marriage. However, when we shift the light, we see in the shadow that the source of this happiness is an ethical revelation about life, very different from that imposed by religion and customs.

Historical Lines

One of the striking aspects of this literary work is its realism, the scenes and characters are constructed and refined from different angles. The scenes and dialogues are described in rich detail, immersing the reader in the narrative. Considering the realistic bias, it is interesting to address the historical context in which the novel unfolds.

In 1870, the Russian Empire was an absolutist monarchy governed by Tsar Alexander II. Ascending to the throne in 1855, the tsar continued the modernization policies initiated by his predecessor. This modernization encompassed broad economic, political, and social aspects. At this time, Russia was undergoing a process of industrialization in the countryside, until then, the foundations of the Russian economy were large feudal agricultural estates with small-scale production. Technological innovations, such as factories and railroads, were arriving from abroad, bringing with them new social signs. These changes were more evident in St. Petersburg, which had become the new capital, a modern and liberal city.

Another important aspect to consider is the end of serfdom in 1861. In an effort to move away from the medieval framework, the emancipation of the serfs created a new social context for the majority of the population, however, it did not signify a real economic change. This entire context is present in the lines of Anna Karenina, serving as a foundation for the construction of the dynamic parallels that the narrative traverses. The issue of the Russian worker is one of the central points in Levin's questioning, the cultural difference between Moscow and St. Petersburg is raised continually, and changes in customs and morality linked to religious and ethical issues are subtle threads in the discourse. Among the dual relationships, the pair of Anna and Levin forms the dynamic core of the narrative, transcending the individuals and revealing the molecular lines that weave together the social fabric.

Weaving Fiction with Reality

In seeking to connect philosophical tools to Tolstoy's work, we can consider the social and historical connections between the characters through the concepts of macropolitics and micropolitics as proposed by Deleuze and Guattari in the chapter Micropolitics and Segmentarity, part of the book A Thousand Plateaus 3:

“There is a macropolitics and a micropolitics that do not consider classes, sexes, people, and feelings in the same way. Or rather, there are two distinctly different types of relationships: the intrinsic relationships of couples that involve well-defined sets or elements (social classes, men and women, specific individuals), and then the less locatable relationships, always external to themselves, which concern flows and particles that escape these classes, these sexes, these individuals.”

Tolstoy's mastery of realism lies in weaving these politics together in such a way that they become inseparable. The plot of the characters unfolds a fictional narrative determined by a series of actions, while the political landscape (both internal and external) plays as prominent a role as Anna and Levin.

When Oblonsky applies for the new job, we are led through the small favors that enable social ascent, conversations that dissect the socio-political structure. When Vronsky faces the dilemma of whether to change cities and continue his military career or stay and continue the affair with Anna, the reader witnesses the humanity in the technical details present within the military political institution. When Anna is ostracized at the opera, beyond the hurt emerge the moral idiosyncrasies of the order of desire.

When discussing macropolitical and micropolitical levels, it is important to clarify that this is not about a hierarchy or index of importance. One type of politics is as real as the other. There is a simultaneous sustenance between these two instances, by discerning them, we highlight a fact: politics is made by subjects. Although broad terms like government, state, and nation can sometimes be too abstract, there is always a molecular line running through, the micropolitics of agency, between individuals and institutions.

No choice is fully individual, we return to Anna's dilemma in accepting or rejecting divorce. Although the way the story is described immerses us in the desires and emotions of the protagonist, the main pillar of her impasse is Anna's social position as a woman. The repulsion she feels toward her husband, and at times toward Vronsky as well, is the conscious externalization of an unconscious discomfort, an unelaborated discomfort that remains as a sense of hurt and impotence.

Immediate reality is constituted by a simultaneity of lines and discourses. The apprehension of the now occurs through the constructed gaze, even aspects ordinarily considered trivial or natural carry a history and a significant weight. The impasses of macro order, with rigid and established limits, and the molecular fissures through which desire flows. Multiple overlapping realities, what lies on the surface of everything that unfolds in the shadows.

Conclusion

Amid the complex intertwining of plots and characters, it is intriguing that the work is titled Anna Karenina. More than just a protagonist, Anna is the center of gravity around which the characters that compose the narrative orbit. Anna is always present in the scene, just as the effects of gravity are omnipresent. The construction of her character occurs gradually, the affair with Vronsky is the initial situation through which the reader delves deeper into Anna’s character. A high-society lady, a devoted wife, and a caring mother are the characteristics presented at first glance. An arranged marriage with an older husband, a cold relationship, and a burdensome daily life expand the reader's perspective as the light focus moves.

As a married woman who surrenders to a new passion, Anna is judged by different social institutions. Faced with religion and morality, Anna bears the weight of her desire, choosing to risk a new life and leave. However, no matter how much she asserts what she wants, she knows she will never be free from the name of a man, the surname Karenina indicates that Anna belongs to Aleksei Karenin. When she has the opportunity for divorce, she realizes that she will actually need to adopt another surname to live in social and family circles, the name of her new husband.

A contract binds Anna, with Aleksei on each side. The subtlety of Tolstoy in writing both men with the same name, both the husband and the lover. Cornered by two men who, in the end, are the same, representing all men, morality, and the state. The path leading to madness traverses social institutions. Desire, in constructing the subject, navigates through segments, from the most intimate and familial to political and social institutions. From the home to the state, there exists a segmented architecture, delineating the subject, space, and time.

In this essay, we take as our starting point the literary realism crafted by Tolstoy in the novel Anna Karenina, highlighting the social, economic, and political relationships behind individual plots. In this way, we understand the author's perspective as a diagnosis of a changing society, allowing parallels with our contemporary society. More than a century later, the plot of Anna Karenina remains strikingly relevant, fiction makes explicit the fabric of the real, revealing both macro and micro threads useful for understanding our current world.