Kati Stenstrom
Literature 532, Leo Tolstoy
Final Paper, May 19, 2011
In Theory of Prose, Viktor Shklovsky coins an artistic effect which Tolstoy frequently infuses into his
writing as ostranenie. Shklovsky argues that Tolstoy utilizes literary, artistic devices to reawaken a
reader’s consciousness, to de-automatize the reader from the habitualization of everyday life.
Tolstoy’s scenes handling death illuminate this concept, as he uses various means. Tolsoy’s colorful
descriptions appeal to human senses and connect to the reader’s stream of consciousness. The
rituals around death are consistently challenged, almost devalued to a jarring effect. Often, a scene
of death is described by a person who does not quite understand the happenings, through naïve
eyes. Tolstoy also quite often describes death through the perception and words of the dying. Each
of these devices serves as a form of ostranenie in different effects to the reader; to illustrate this point,
three of Tolstoy’s death scenes will be discussed in detail after a section further exploring ostranenie.
Shklovsky presents the concept of ostranenie with a passage from Tolstoy’s diary where the author
speaks of not remembering if he performed his daily task of dusting a piece of furniture and decides
that when unobserved by anyone, “…if the complex life of many people takes place entirely on the
level of the unconscious, then it’s as if this life had never been” (Shklovsky 5). Shklovsky explains
this habitualization’s effect on life. “And so, held accountable for nothing, life fades into
nothingness. Automatization eats away at things, at clothes, at furniture, at our wives, and at our
fear of war” (Shklovsky 5). He then segues into his chapter title “Art as Device” to explain that art’s
purpose is to de-automatize the reader.
And so, in order to return sensation to our limbs, in order to make us feel objects, to
make a stone feel stony, man has been given the tool of art. The purpose of art,
then, is to lead us to a knowledge of a thing through the organ of sight instead of
recognition. By enstranging objects and complicating form, the device of art makes
perception long and “laborious.’ The perceptual process in art has a purpose all its
own and ought to be extended to the fullest. Art is a means of experiencing the process of
creativity. The artifact itself is quite unimportant. (Shklovsky 5)
Shklovsky cites “the devices by which Tolstoi enstranges his material” as the following “he does not
call a thing by its name, that is he describes it as if it were perceived for the first time, while an
incident is described as if it were happening for the first time” (Shklovsky 6). Tolstoy certainly
employs this device in describing death, but various other techniques evoke ostranenie, reawakening
the reader’s consciousness so his active mind can see death anew.
(In English, this concept of ostranenie has endured many attempts at translation, including
defamiliarization, estrangement, enstrangement, as used above in a translation by Benjamin Sher, but
I would like to use the word ostranenie or a form of de-automatize, when ostranenie does not fit.)
Childhood
Tolstoy’s first literary exploration of death occurs in Childhood. Here, he employs a full range of
creative devices to de-automatize the reader to this subject material. Death is first presented by the
narrator’s dying mother. She knows she will die, and Tolstoy uses her voice to write a letter on her
deathbed to express her last thoughts of death, life and love to her husband and children. “No, I
feel and I know, and I know because God has seen fit to reveal it to me, that I have not long to live.
/ Will my love for you and the children end with my life? I’ve realized that is impossible. I feel too
strongly at this moment to think that the feeling without which I cannot comprehend existence
could ever be destroyed” (Childhood 94). Tolstoy allows the reader into the last thoughts of this
dying woman, and he creates this revelation of impending death, also relayed by the servant Natalya
Savishna to whom the mother says, “Oh Natalya Savishna, if only you knew whom I have just seen”
(Childhood 95). This is Tolstoy’s first attempt to bring the reader into a character’s mind who will
soon be dead, and capturing the last thoughts of her humanity work to de-automatize the reader.
Death’s inevitability and these last thoughts before dying cause the reader to question the thoughts
that go through the mind in death, whether he, too, will have similar thoughts about love and family
or also undergo a revelation. What did the mother see that she couldn’t describe to Natalya? This
line alone swirls the reader’s mind into a conscious stream of questioning what one believes about
death, if something can be seen before death, if the dying mother truly had a revelation of
impending death. Tolstoy then fulfills the revelation of his character by killing her, creating another
sense of ostranenie as the reader must become conscious again to remember it is all created by the
author. The revelation did not exist, just as the death did not exist, so the revelation did not predict
correctly the death; the author caused both.
The story then shifts to the eyes of the narrating child, keenly observing both the scene at his
mother’s deathbed and the funeral. The deathbed room is dark with shawls over the windows and
a glow of candles burning. Hushed, whispering voices can be heard. The reader not only feels the
deathly scene but feels it through the new eyes of a child that has not experienced this before. “I
was overwhelmed with grief at that moment but involuntarily took in all the details. It was almost
dark in the room and hot, and it smelled of a mixture of mint, eau de cologne, chamomile, and
Hoffmann’s anodyne. The odour made such an impression on me that not only when I smell it now
but even when I simply remember it, my imagination instantly transports me to that dismal, stuffy
room and reproduces the smallest details of that terrible moment” (Childhood 97). The description
of the smell with the narrator’s commentary piques the reader’s senses but then reminds the reader
that the narrator must be retelling the story from some years removed. The ‘laborious’ nature of this
reminder slows the reader’s engagement with the text, connecting to his consciousness. Later, the
boy’s description of his mother’s dead face shows his naivety and through these eyes, the reader also
looks at death. “I got up on to a chair to examine her face but instead found that same pale-yellow
translucent thing. I couldn’t believe that it was her face. I stared harder at it, and little by little I
began to make out her dear familiar features. I shuddered in horror…” (Childhood 99). The entirety
of the funeral scene de-automatizes the reader in seeing grief through the perception of the narrating
child. When the boy enters the room that holds the coffin, he worries about the fit of his jacket, not
dirtying his pants. He sees an old woman praying in the corner and thinks about how he is not
displaying his grief well enough and makes himself cry. He doesn’t understand death, doesn’t know
how to react and cries out of an expectation rather than grief. The reader must go through this
uncomfortable process with the boy. His thoughts devalue the funeral ritual; although honest and
understandable, his thoughts disregard the funeral’s sanctity.
Tolstoy uses smell again in the funeral scene in an example of what Shklovsky described previously
in Tolstoy’s un-naming to create ostranenie. As a peasant and her daughter pay respect, and the
young girl scream out in seeing the corpse. The narrator and reader together are jolted into
understanding. “It was only then that I understood the source of the strong, oppressive odour that,
along with the smell of frankincense, had permeated the room, and the thought that the face that
had just a few days before been suffused with such beauty and tenderness, that the face of the one
whom I loved more than anything in the world could produce such horror, revealed to me as if for
the first time the bitter truth and filled my soul with despair” (Childhood 102). Here, Tolstoy
combines the strong description of smell, the devaluating of the ritual, and a realization of the naïve
narrator to create ostranenie.
War and Peace
The first death in War and Peace is that of Count Bezukhov, which Tolstoy uses to interrupt a joyous
party at the Rostov. “Just as the sixth anglaise was being danced in the Rostovs’ ballroom to the
sounds of the weary, out-of-tune musicians and the weary servants and cooks were preparing
supper, Count Bezukhov had his sixth stroke” (War and Peace 70). Tolstoy reminds the reader that
death is imminent; while the Rostov’s ballroom is filled with merriment, Count Bezukhov’s
‘reception room was filled’ with those paying their last respects. The reader is suddenly submersed
into a realm of death, highly contrasted from Count Rostov joyfully dancing to Daniel Cooper and
the lively Mayra Dmitrievna “pushing up her sleeves” (War and Peace 69).
From this beginning, Tolstoy paints the entire scene with a jarring feeling of sacrilege. Undertakers
are waiting outside to prey upon the man’s death for money, “crowded in anticipation” (War and
Peace 70). The doctors discuss the inheritance in the same discussion as the dying man’s medicine
(War and Peace 71). Prince Vassily and Princess Katerina Semyonovna (Catiche) discuss business
although the man may die at any moment (War and Peace 72). The uncomfortable nature of the
dying man’s surroundings amplifies a bit later as Anna Mikhailovna and Princess Catiche physically
fight over the will. But first, Tolstoy opens chapter XX with a meticulous and grandiose description
of the sacrament of extreme unction.
Pierre knew well that big room, divided by columns and an archway, all hung with
Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the columns, where on one side stood
a high mahogany bed under a silk canopy and on the other an enormous stand with
icons, was brightly lit with red light, as is usual in churches during evening services.
Under the shining casings of the icons stood a long Voltaire armchair, and on the
chair, its upper part spread with snow-white, unrumpled, apparently just-changed
pillows, covered to the waist with a bright green coverlet, lay the majestic figure, so
familiar to Pierre, of his father, Count Bezukhov, with the same mane of gray hair,
reminiscent of a lions above his broad forehead, and the same characteristically
noble, deep furrows on his handsome reddish-yellow face. He lay directly under the
icons; his two large fat arms were freed of the coverlet and lay on top of it. In his
right hand, which lay palm down, a wax candle had been placed between the thumb
and the index finger, held in place by and old servant who reached from behind the
armchair. Over the armchair stood the clerical persons in their majestic, shining
vestments, their long hair spread loose on them, lighted candles in their hands,
performing the service with slow solemnity (War and Peace 80).
The description demands somber respect, but Tolstoy immediately pulls that away from the reader
with a laughing Princess Sophie, Anna Mikhailovna, who is only there to ensure Pierre’s inheritance
taking a lead role, and Prince Vassily and Princess Catiche leaving into a back corner to continue to
discuss the business of the will. The devaluing of the ritual becomes worse when Anna
Mikhailovna, Prince Vassily, and Princess Catiche begin to argue over the will. As they physically
fight over the document, Vassily says, “’Let go, I tell you. I take it all upon myself. I’ll go and ask
him. I…let that be enough for you.”/ “Mais, mon prince,” said Anna Mikhailovna, ‘give him a
moment’s rest after such a great sacrament’” (War and Peace 85). Anna Mikhailovna serves the voice
of reason and respite, as obviously no one is going to speak to the dying man. But this is strange
too, since she essentially has nothing to do with the family affair. The disturbance of this somber
ritual de-automatizes the reader in its awkwardness, its ridiculousness, and its disrespect. What
heightens the sense of ostranenie is that much of it happens through Pierre’s naïve eyes.
With Anna Mikhailovna acting as his guide, Tolstoy creates ostranenie through Pierre’s perception.
“Big, fat Pierre, who, with his head hanging, obediently followed her” (War and Peace 78).
Throughout the scene, Pierre is described as awkward and unaware, while Anna Mikhailovna, a
woman outside the family circle, takes a lead role in securing Pierre’s inheritance under the guise of
paying deep respect to the dying and the dying man’s wishes to see his son before death. Pierre does
not understand what a stroke is and doesn’t even know by which name to call his father, the dying
man. “’How is the health of…’ He hesitated, not knowing whether it was proper to call the dying
man ‘count’; yet he was embarrassed to call him ‘father’” (War and Peace 79). The reader is
submersed into this world of death through Pierre’s naïve eyes but has the feeling of an ulterior
motive in the other character’s words and actions. The reader is also given clues from Tolstoy’s
other characters, such as Vassily saying “something” to the commander in chief and he and the elder
princess “talking business” (War and Peace 72). Tolstoy’s reader continues the journey through
unaware Pierre. He doesn’t know why people are treating him differently, why a man picks up his
glove. Even when his father is dead, he “looked at her [Anna Mikhailovna] questioningly” and she
tells him to cry (War and Peace 86). The next morning, “Pierre understood nothing and silently gazed
at Anna Mikhailovna, blushing shyly (War and Peace 87). Tolstoy has caused the reader do more than
read over the deathly scene; he piques the reader’s curiosity about what is underlying but stil forces
the reader to experience this scene through Pierre’s naïve lens.
Another death in War and Peace that illustrates ostranenie through various means is the death of Prince
Andrei. Tolstoy goes into the thoughts and voice of the dying prince through his sister, Marya.
She understood what happened to him in those two days. In his words, in his tone,
especially in that gaze-a cold, almost hostile gaze-there could be felt an alienation
from everything of this world that was frightening in a living man. He clearly had
difficulty now in understanding the living, not because he lacked the power of
understanding, but because he understood something else, such as the living could
not understand, and which absorbed him entirely (War and Peace 979).
The reader must recognize that this insight is coming from the omniscient author, triggering the
reader’s conscious mind to wonder how this is known, why this is stated, and if it is believable.
Tolstoy then moves to a change, a revelation in the dying man which took place two days prior to
this encounter with his sister. Tolstoy writes that Andre begins to think. “ ‘Love? What is love?’ he
thought. ‘Love hinders death. Love is life. Everything, everything I understand, I understand only
because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love. Everything is connected only
by that. Love is God, and to die – means that I, a part of love, return to the common and eternal
source’ ” (War and Peace 984). As he is thinking these thoughts, he falls asleep, experiences death in
a dream, and awakens to a revelation. “ ‘Yes, death is an awakening.’ Clarity suddenly came to his
soul, and the curtain that until then had concealed the unknown was raised before his inner gaze.
He felt the release of a force that previously had been as if bound in him and that strange lightness
which from then on did not leave him” (War and Peace 985). Once again, Tolstoy enters the mind of
the dying to de-automatiz the readere. The inconsistency of the text begs the reader to recognize
that some of Andre’s thoughts are in quotes, an inner monologue, and sometimes the author
discloses his thoughts. The material itself also causes the reader to consider death’s imminence and
what goes through the mind in the last moments of clarity. The revelations that both the mother in
Childhood and Prince Andrei experience are created by the author who then can decide to kill the
character and make his own revelation transpire
Prince Andrei follows the ritual of communion and a last farewell, but he does so without emotion.
“When his son was brought to him, he touched him with his lips and turned away, not because he
felt grief or pity (Princess Marya and Natasha understood that), but only because he supposed that
this was all that was expected of him…” (War and Peace 986). Tolstoy has already told the reader
that Andrei has internally turned the corner to death, so his lack of emotion is not shocking but it
still uncomfortable for a dying father not to feel more emotion toward his son. The description of
the reasons for weeping at Andre’s death creates a feeling of ostranenie since no one is actually crying
for Andrei’s loss. Revealing the character’s true emotions around Andrei’s death devalues the last
rites and Andrei’s death to an unnerving degree. It causes the reader to question what thoughts are
appropriate during grief, if crying for one’s own imminent death is selfish or natural.
Tolstoy uses many means to de-automatize the reader in his scenes about death. His descriptions,
always so true to life, jostle and connect to the reader’s consciousness. The perspective of a
character experiencing death for the first time and naïve to the unfolding events illustrate death in
new light. Tolstoy devalues ritual surrounding death by creating contrasting events and emotions.
Lastly, Tolstoy’s fictional dying mind and its revelation reaches out to the reader’s living mind. Each
of these devices creates the artful effect of ostranenie. Tolstoy constructs his scenes with several
processes that break down regular perception, restoring a reader’s conscious mind so he is not just
reading but feeling. Tolstoy makes a stone feel stony just as he illuminates death in an amazing and
powerful mixture of descriptions and emotions. About death, Tolstoy’s artfully accomplishes
ostranenie to the highest degree, but nothing other than death can actually feel like death, to those
experiencing a loss, and certainly to the person who has stretched out and died.
Works Cited
Tolstoy, Lev. Childhood, tr. Judson Rosengrant, course pack. P.
Tolstoy, Leo, Richard Pevear, and Larissa Volokhonsky. War and Peace. New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 2007. Print.
Shklovsky, Viktor, and Benjamin Sher. Theory of Prose. Elmwood Park, IL, USA: Dalkey Archive
Press, 1990. Print.
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I was drawn to this topic due to my experience with a familial story about death from my childhood.
When I was nine, my father’s father died of cancer. I remember my grandfather, a charming towheaded man with a brilliant smile, dancing with his four grandchildren while my grandmother and
parents would gather around the living room. At the age of 63, he slowly began losing his life, over
two years transforming into a man whose smile could barely the pain (although he tried) but always
fighting for another day. The story of his last moments were told to me as follows. Lying in bed, he
said to my grandmother, “Ruthie, pack your bags.” And my grandmother, who had been at his
bedside every moment, said “Eddie, what are you talking about.” He replied, “Pack your bags,
Ruthie! We are going somewhere beautiful.” Then he stretched out and died.
This story was what first attracted me to Tolstoy’s illustrations of death, especially the inner
workings of a person’s mind before and at the moment of dying. It is very strange that as I had that
story from childhood in mind and began to work on this paper, my mother’s father was preparing
for death. A warm-hearted, soft spoken, jovial man, he lived simply and peacefully. ElRoy’s
knowing smile understood all but said little, he loved his wife, children, and grandchildren with all
his heart. When I began this paper, he was in his chair reading the newspaper, and in the span of
three days, he, too, stretched out and died. I realize now that Tolstoy’s descriptions of death evoked
in me a past story and distant remembrance of death, but it was not until I again experienced death,
that I could really understand.