My favourite Tolstoy work so far. Insightful in its reflective nature on life and love, while also giving a pretty decent plot to get invested in. Characters were well fleshed out, even the small side characters. I particularly enjoyed the last two parts, in comparison to the rest. 

A small gripe I had was that I found it odd that the title was Anna Karenina, when the book was much more than that. Often times it would divulge into a 100-page chunk where the titular character wasn't mentioned or seen. But again it's a minute gripe.

For my dislikes, I found it rather annoying when Tolstoy decides to spend 8 chapters on a character mowing with a scythe, or when he finds it imperative to the plot to explain things that in no way shape or form should be mentioned. Along with this, I find at times he halts the plot to explain his own views on things through his characters. When its intriguing I don't mind, but when its not its painstakingly obvious and at times a slog.  And for this reason I found the first half to be often times slow, as characters are being shown to the reader through their views. For these reasons it isn't a 5 star. 

With Anna's death, I found this part to be the strongest part of the novel. Throughout the book her emotions are palpable and honest for someone with her clear mental illnesses. Her depression is written insanely well, and her 'insanity' is done rather strikingly. I must commend Tolstoy for this in particular.

A story rich in texture and beautiful writing especially when detailing the countryside and the mundane aspects of day to day life. I admit that I got lost a bit in the political turmoils and cared very little about the political plots that the men dealt with in their careers, but there was much humor in it as well. I often felt so repulsed and frustrated with the actions and thoughts and hypocrisies of various characters but I suppose it really is a fantastic portrait of the human condition; to love and to suffer and to hope and to dream and to fear. I appreciate much of the richness in inner dialogue that I find to be consistent in late 19th century Russian lit (I personally loved Dostoevsky’s The Idiot). I cared very little for Vronsky and Anna’s storyline to be honest but could not help feeling much pity for the titular character, even at times when I felt like she (and Vronsky and Karenin) acted as a coward lacking insight. Perhaps I am being harsh. I definitely resonated with the complex feelings of jealousy and insecurity as was dealt with by so many of the characters.

Having just finished this book a mere five minutes ago, I do look back at the journey with fondness, and I especially appreciated the final chapters of Levin’s internal reckoning with spiritual mysticism.

This book is a tough one. A lot of philosophy about God and blame... And a lot of pseudo-communism and agriculture. I guess I wouldn't read the 870 pages again.

Prone to rambles and tangents on politics, agriculture, and the mundanity/everyday logistics of the characters' (lead or background) lives. After

Anna died

, the next page jumped straight into a long explanation of one of the character's published book being a flop. It was chapters later before the book returned to even acknowledging

Anna's death

. This interrupting tangent didn't even feel like it was used as a literary device to build tension, or create a sense of everyone else's relative normality/mundanity before they found out the shocking news - it felt like a jarring jump cut that never brought the reader to a satisfying release of tension following

her decision to die

. I've heard this book heralded partly because of how much it packs in - how many topics it covers, how informative it is about Russia at the time, and that it's not only a "great" love story but also basically a historical Time Capsule. I would argue that the amount it packs in is a discredit to the story. The information Tolstoy has added feels to be at his own whim, to satisfy his own interest, and at times it even feels as though he is vicariously boasting about his own knowledge and interests via the characters. It very rarely furthers the story, and (as is the case in the example above) actively stilts and disrupts the energy/momentum/tension/interest of the plot. Having said that, some of the passages about agriculture where the most pleasant to read - as they evokes pleasing images of fields and nature - which was a nice respite from the long-winded internal monologues of some of the other characters. Tolstoy manages to tell us extensively how the characters a feeling, what they are struggling with internally, by cycling through their thoughts on a repeated loop before they finally act. This, however, did not actually invest me in their emotional turmoil because it was all *told* not shown, and told rather repetitively at that.
The "great" love story isn't even that great in my opinion - as a reader I don't feel that their love is strong, I am told. Occasionally their actions (i.e. what they give up) is used to demonstrate how much they love each other, but that is still not quite written well enough to make me feel it. So, by the time the relationship is

fraught with toxicity and begins to crumble

, their love story hasn't been set up convincingly enough for me to be properly invested.

Also surely "a love strong enough to die for" is not true love. True love would never want you to die, and would never what to use death to hurt you.

There were passages that I enjoyed reading, and moments in the plot where I was engaged, but overall Tolstoy uses far to many words to tell a story in a less than interesting way. I simply think he could have done with a hard-truth editor. Or perhaps redirected some of the tangents into separate books so they are not so interruptive in this one. 

I can't believe I've finally finished this book. It was worth it though, I think this is a very rewarding read, and I enjoyed it.