I was so excited when NetGalley approved me to read and review this book. Unfortunately, life ratcheted up, and I missed my opportunity to download it. However, I was so enticed by the publisher’s blurb, that I had my local library track me down a copy once my life calmed down.

I was really surprised to see that each chapter was about one-third memoir, one-third author biography, and one-third literary discussion. Personally, I would have liked more literary discussion and less memoir in each chapter, primarily because I’m not generally a fan of memoir. But the memoir aspect was so light-hearted (and occasionally downright hilarious) that it grew on me by the end of the book. And it was interesting to see how the author matured from an impetuous eighteen year old to a professional writer with two children.

The literary discussion in the chapters was far more down to earth than the traditional academic discussion of Russian literature. This book definitely isn’t something that can be cited in a university paper on Russian literature; however, it is thought-provoking in a different way. It offers the protagonists as analogs for every day struggles, which is an interesting approach. When I read Anna Karenina, I definitely did not see Anna as having anything in common with me. However, Viv’s book breaks down the characters and the plots to such a basic human level, that I could feel the parallels.

Overall, I was happy to have invested the time in this book. Not only did it inspire me to revisit some of the classic works of Russian literature, but it also helped me see the world a little differently.

The Russian classics are, admittedly, not the most obvious place to look for tips for a happier life. Russian literature is full of gloomy people wondering how on earth they have ended up in the appalling predicament in which they find themselves, looking around desperately for someone else to blame and then realizing that, in fact, they were right in the first place: life really is extremely inconvenient and annoying, and we are all just waiting to die. But they also teach us that it can, crucially, be survived. And it can be enjoyed, beautifully.

The best blurb for Viv Groskop's The Anna Karenina Fix is author Gary Shteyngart's, it single-handedly motivated me to read it: "Learn how to hack life 19th-century Russian style! You'll totally be like Anna Karenina without getting (spoiler alert) run over by a train!"

This kind of gallows humor perfectly matches the tone Groskop takes throughout in this hybrid of memoir of time spent in Russia and among Russians alongside accessible, entertaining, and humorous literary analysis of popular, canonical works of Russian literature. All of this refracted through what Groskop has learned of life and behavior through her own experiences, boosted by what we can learn from the behavior of very desperate people depicted in literature reflecting Russia's often-bleak circumstances. Lest it sound like a mess of a mish-mash, let me assure you it works perfectly.

I worried it might be self-helpy, it doesn't feel that way. The life lessons aren't complicated or earth-shattering, rather they're tongue-in-cheek even when quite serious, and entirely witty, happy, even joyful despite the heavy, gloomy themes of Russian literature. For example, this from analyzing Bulgakov: "On a deeper level, he is asking whether we are okay with standing up for what we believe in, even if the consequences are terrifying. And he is challenging us to live a life where we can look ourselves in the eye and be happy with who we are. There is always a light in the dark." 

Or an argument for empathy and compassion courtesy of Chekhov, a surprisingly charming figure: Ultimately, if you are going to stay sane, you need to be more like Chekhov. 

Groskop describes the effect best with who-would've-thunk perfect chocolate/peanut butter combination of Oprah and Tolstoy:

This book ... aims to channel the Oprah side of Tolstoy. It's what he would have wanted. Please, no overeating while reading it. neither Oprah or Tolstoy would like it.

Tolstoy was a cranky old thing who espoused the opposite of popular self-help principles:

A lot of quotes directly contradict the messages of today's self-help movement, which encourages us to devote ourselves passionately to the art of learning to love ourselves, or, at the very least, to move away from self-hate. In A Calendar of Wisdom, it's the other way round. Pride and a love of the self are wrong; and if we are going to hate anyone, we should hate ourselves. (It literally says this. This sentiment is very typical of Tolstoy, who disliked doing anything pleasant, easy or fun.)

Groskop intersperses her exploration of Russian 18th and 19th century literature classics with her own experiences studying, living and working in St. Petersburg and Odessa. These memoir aspects aren't necessarily the focal point, but she has such a wonderful, light and funny way of storytelling that they usually feel appropriate for the literary connections she makes.

Her explanation for what drew her to Russia and all things Russian feels flimsy, however. It's basically that no one in her family knew the origin of their surname, she guessed it might be Russian, and glommed onto studying Russian in the hopes of finding heritage and a deeper identity there.

Groskop goes through an identity crisis of sorts when she realizes they don't have Russian roots, and it never convinced me. She herself refers to it as an "enthusiastic but pointless quest for an identity". As someone else who's obsessed with Russia and all things Russian, I understand that it's an interest that draws a lot of questions and curiosity. My family does actually have Russian-Ukrainian roots, but it never felt like that was what drew me and I never feel like I have to explain my intense interest, so her explanations felt superfluous - like don't worry, I get it. Maybe that's my personal perspective intruding, and this wouldn't bother someone else at all. I mention it because it was the book's sole drawback for me.

And apart from that, the book is delightful. It's a little course in Russian literature that's light but still smart if you've read and know these books and authors well, and hilarious and brief enough if, like me, you're not interested in reading the majority of them but appreciate the overview. I was more interested in so much of the material being about the authors, their eccentric personalities and the times they lived in.

I particularly enjoyed the chapters exploring works by two of my favorite authors: Bulgakov's Master and Margarita and Anna Akhmatova's "Requiem" poem (she being "the voice of a time when no one wanted to speak"). Readers with favorites among the authors and titles here you're sure to feel similarly in Groskop's treatment of their works and life philosophies. She tells such insightful, amusing stories, tying it all into the culture and the Russia of their times, and of course, what we can glean from their lessons today. It's not written in any self-helpy tone, it's an interesting blend instead of memoir, literary history, and humor.

This is also a book that's sure to expand your reading list - even as a strictly nonfiction reader nowadays, I can't wait to read Manuscripts Don't Burn about Bulgakov, which Groskop quotes heavily.

"Read them in bed, read them on the bus, read them in the place that Vladimir Putin would call "the outhouse". (He once gave a memorable speech in which he assured his people that Russia's enemies were not safe anywhere, even in the outhouse. Please find yourself the safest possible outhouse, which Putin cannot know about, and treat yourself to a few pages of Three Sisters.)"

"While this is a book mostly about fictional worlds, it's more precisely about classics of their time and what they have to teach us about life for all time."

Pleasantly joyful and light despite the infamous gloom of Russian literature, a treasure trove of easy, accessible literary analysis paired with sweet and simple life lessons, fascinating personal stories, and an uplifting sense of humor that could even make a Russian winter seem less bleak.

'More instances of unrequited love are added to the mix so that, in the end, it’s a merry-go-round of people sighing over people looking the other way.'

I didn’t think this book would be so much fun, let’s face it, Russian Literature is heavy but Viv Groskop had me laughing about her own Russian experience. In search of her roots, trust me this changes the meaning Viv excavated from literature and Russia itself, Viv takes us on a ride through the minds of the great authors and you don’t have to throw yourself on the train tracks to relate. There were interesting tidbits, where inspiration bubbled up for say Leo Tolstoy or Ivan Turgenev and how many of the authors struggled with their own hypocrisy. Then there is Gogol and his neurotic tendencies, you shouldn’t laugh, but how can you not? We are only human, and just as contrary as the greats.

What of Viv, herself a fool for love, unrequited? Who hasn’t walked the empty rooms of such love? Baying at the moon, why… why don’t you love me? Well, the Russian’s have your back. Just join the ranks of all those star-gazing fools sighing over the object of their affections who are sighing over someone else, who probably doesn’t love them back either. Oh it’s a cold, cruel world!

One could overdose on all the moralizing, and yet the very characters we’re meant to avoid becoming, they make us love. Am I a hedgehog or a fox? Am I both? (you have to read) Let the women not be discounted either, for their own greatness, how many people write for survival, how many write when it could very well be your death? I can’t even memorize this post, and I doubt I could find ten people to keep something I’ve written safe in their own heads.

Viv is frank about her own life, her search for identity by hitching on the Russian wagon, and when she finally solves the mystery of her family’s ethnicity I couldn’t suppress a laugh because it has the ingredients for a classic story itself… really, doesn’t it just figure, what a character Viv is! I loved it, loved her voice, her drama, her humor and you don’t have to like Russian literature, you can avoid it, fear it, embrace it and still come away from this book having a giggle. Trust me, there are serious moments, of course there are, some downright heartbreaking, no wonder these authors wrote masterpieces, their own lives were fresh hell at times. You can’t get more morbid or down in the dumps than the characters these men created, well maybe you can, the world can be a pretty ugly place. But like Viv tells us, ‘if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.’

Publication Date: October 23, 2018

Abrams Press

Beautifully written I loved this look at Russian Literature and how it teaches you everything you need to know about life. I highly recommend this for anyone who loves Russian literature or wants to learn more about it.

I would like to thank Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with a review copy in exchange for my honest and unbiased opinion of it.