A Gentleman in Moscow: A Novel

In a time of so much anxiety, hatred and fear of "the other," this book is an oasis where this reader would gladly have stayed much longer. At its core, this wonderful story reveals how a man, stripped of family and fortune, handles changed circumstances with dignity, grace, humor and the best wit a reader can hope for. Beginning in 1922, the first few pages tell us a great deal about Count Alexander Rostov. He is before a tribunal for -- well, for not taking the revolution seriously enough. The judge is clear that death by firing squad would be his first choice but friends in high places have urged leniency. Count Rostov, therefore, is to return to his place of residence, The Hotel Metropol, under house arrest - forever. Returning to the Metropol under guard, Rostov discovers that he no longer occupies a lavish suite overlooking Theatre Square. Generations of family art and heirlooms occupy his "residence," but he is allowed to pick a few belongings only and is to occupy a storage room in the attic. Not one to bemoan his circumstances, Rostov adjusts. He reads War and Peace, Anna Karenina, and tries to read Montaigne. He dines, he orders things of necessity: fine linens, good soaps. The Metropol itself is not faring well as foreign tourists are nowhere to be found. The floral shop is shuttered. The restaurants provide respite from the attic and Rostov counts the hours until he can descend from the attic for lunch or dinner. Confined, a trip to the lobby barber is an occasion. Light is shone on the new reality when Rostov enters for his weekly trim. The barber finishes up a previous patron and with a whip of his cape announces that he is ready for "Your Excellency" and has him seated in the chair when a man waiting takes offense. "I was first," he declares. Rostovy, agrees, explaining that he has a standing appointment every week as though the logic of that should be evident. Outraged, the man grabs a scissors and snaps off half of Rostov's handlebar mustache. One of the underlying themes of this book is that is does not take long for those who rise to the top as "the common man," are quick to slip into the role previously occupied by those they have replaced. The reader is introduced to the daily goings on at the Hotel Metropol and to the lively group of waiters, cooks, maids, bartenders. Rostov is scandalized when a less than competent waiter is employed because he has friends in high places. He cannot help but overhear with unfeigned horror when the waiter chooses a terrible wine for a stew and he intervenes. Rostov thinks this waiter looks just like a bishop plucked from a chessboard, no further information needed. Just as boredom and cabin fever are bearing down, Rostov befriends a young girl who is resident in the hotel with a nanny. Nina's father is often away on business and the Nanny is less informed than her 9 year old charge. Nina and Rostov dine together, play games together and explore recesses of the hotel, entry enabled by Nina's purloined key to everything. Nina calls Rostov, "Your Countship." Even though he is technically under arrest and confined to the attic, the employees of the hotel still refer to Rostov with forbidden titles, "Your Excellency," or "My Dear Count." The hotel manager reluctantly explains to Rostov that in the People's Russia, everyone is equal and future trouble might be avoided if everyone would stop with the titles already. Everyone else feels badly, but Rostov shrugs it off. Times change. As years go by, our hero finds a girlfriend and a job as head waiter in the dining room of the hotel, a task for which he is more than suited as he knows every wine and every dish and which fork to use and on and on and be counted on to insure perfection - even for guests who would never know the difference. Friends come to visit him and disappear, only to reappear, knowing that Rostov isn't going anywhere. As the world changes and intrigue swirls, Rostov and those at the Metropol stay in place. Nina grows up, becomes a Party member and goes off to a collective full of ideals. More years pass and, in 1938, Nina returns, no longer optimistic and idealistic. Her husband has been sent to "the camps" and she entrusts Rostov with the care of her daughter, Sofia, just until she can rescue the husband. Rostov, completely overwhelmed and inexperienced, takes his responsibility seriously. If you don't fall for Sofia within the first two minutes - well, you will fall for her. Rostov does his best and his best is the best. Sofia is winsome, wonderful, articulate, talented and life is encapsulated in the snow globe of the Hotel Metropol. It is a small, vibrant and colorful world where kindness and grace overcome pettiness, jealousy, ideology and any manner of ugliness while the world outside is dim, cold and no fun at all. As Russia emerges from World War II, the cold war commences and Rostov, confined as he is, sees the colorful Russian landscape turning to black and white and gray and plots to escape. Will he make it? Will Sofia? Please settle in, let the sniping and the anger and the recriminations fade away, and find yourself swept up in Rostov's world. He will whisk you away from the daily onslaught of insults, blame, and anger. Read it. It's great. A Classic.

A Gentleman in Moscow was a wonderful reading experience and one I found myself appreciating even more in the weeks after I finished it. Chosen by my book club, it sparked thoughtful discussion, but what surprised me most was how deeply it stayed with me over time. Amor Towles’s writing is elegant, warm, and quietly humorous, and the Count is a character who feels genuinely alive. The setting of the Metropol Hotel is richly detailed and becomes a world of its own, proving that a life doesn’t need physical freedom to be full of meaning, purpose, and connection. This is not a fast-paced plot-driven novel, but rather a beautifully crafted reflection on time, resilience, friendship, and finding joy in unexpected places. The themes unfold gently, and their impact grows with reflection. If you enjoy character-driven stories with depth, charm, and lasting emotional resonance, this book is absolutely worth your time.

“A Gentleman in Moscow” by American author Amor Towles is probably the best novel you will ever read about Soviet Union Russia. The #1 star is Count Alexander Rostov, a “Former Person” of the Tsarist Aristocracy, who, in 1922 rather than being shot, is sentenced to live out his entire life within the 4 walls of the Metropol Hotel in central Moscow. His mantra is “If you do not master circumstances, circumstances will master you.” He is right, and he does exactly that. So, for 32 years we live with him at the Metropol. There are 2 other stars. Star #2 is Nina, a 9 year old girl whom the Count befriends early in his stay at the hotel. They become best buddies and explore (under the direction of very bright and headstrong Nina) the nooks and crannies of the hotel, from hidden rooms in the basement to roof-top, and into various guest rooms, aided by a master key she has liberated from…….somewhere. And years later, Star #3 is another girl, Sofia, the 5 year-old daughter of the then-grown-up Nina, who is left for a “few weeks” in Alexander’s care. She stays permanently, Nina never returns, and thus a major portion of the book is devoted to Sofia’s rearing by the bachelor Alexander within the limitations of an elegant hotel out of which he cannot venture. Much later, as a young adult, Sofia has become a talented and successful classical pianist. The entire story is charming, deeply emotional, and full of humor and insight into the state of personal and international affairs. Alexander learns how to be a parent and masters his circumstances with aplomb. The book abounds with episodes involving the new Communist ruling elite, how the political situation is reflected in changes in the hotel’s staff, and who comes and goes through its doors. The Count lives half his life in this hotel. His expenses are covered by a secret cache of gold he has horded away, a remainder of his aristocratic past. He lives like a monk in an attic room and eventually serves as the Maitre D’ of the hotel’s elegant main restaurant, which seems to have suffered very little under Communism. In this position, he is able to observe closely and gently the intimate history of the first 30-odd years of Soviet Russia. The well-set up denouement is a masterpiece. I neither understood nor liked the final dozen or so pages of the book. What was that all about? I found those final pages puzzling and strange. The writing for the most part (except the final few pages) was sublime and filled with pithy insights and clever phrasing, such as, when Nina left for the hinterlands, “in the general direction of historical necessity” (at about 40%). Or, in referring to the count’s situation as a membership in the “Confederacy of the Humbled” (at about 42%). The only bone I have to pick with the writing is that too much of the dialogue is 21st Century American English, with a fair sprinkling of American slang. I don’t know why that bothered me, since the author is American, but it did. All-in-all, “A Gentleman in Moscow” is a scintillating read, and I rate it at 4.49, rounded down to a 4. Highly recommended. It may be one of the best historical novels you will have the pleasure of reading.

Amor Towles’ "A Gentleman in Moscow" is a masterfully crafted novel that encapsulates a profound historical journey, spanning over three decades of Russia’s turbulent transformation. Despite the entire narrative unfolding within the confines of the Metropol Hotel, the novel offers an expansive and impartial reflection on the sociopolitical shifts of the era, as experienced through the lens of Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov. Reading the book feels akin to stepping into a time machine—an immersive voyage through a period of great upheaval, seen from the vantage point of a man physically confined yet intellectually and emotionally engaged with the world outside. One of the novel’s most striking qualities is its deeply evocative emotional depth. Towles’ writing is so precise and nuanced that the reader does not merely observe Count Rostov’s emotions but *feels* them viscerally. His joys, nostalgia, resilience, and moments of sorrow are rendered with such sensitivity that they become almost tangible. This depth of emotion is what makes the Count profoundly human—his internal world, shaped by memory, longing, and adaptation, mirrors the broader transformations unfolding beyond the hotel’s walls. The novel also brilliantly portrays how personal emotions are shaped by external change. Rostov’s reflections on the past, often tinged with nostalgia, serve as a testament to the human tendency to preserve cherished memories amidst an uncertain future. One particularly moving example is his reverence for the dish *bouillabaisse*—a simple yet powerful symbol of his attempt to hold onto fragments of a lost world. At the same time, Rostov’s story is not one of mere nostalgia; it is also one of adaptation. He navigates shifting circumstances with grace, adjusting his values and behavior while still holding onto his core identity—a delicate balancing act that is at times tested to its limits. For me, reading *A Gentleman in Moscow* was an emotionally charged experience. I often found myself moved to tears, not out of sorrow alone but from the sheer beauty of the writing and the weight of sentiment it carried. The novel unfolds with an intoxicating blend of anticipation and emotional depth, making it impossible to put down. And just when you think you have settled into the rhythm of the narrative, it concludes in a surprising and deeply satisfying manner—one that lingers in the mind long after the final page is turned. In sum, Towles has crafted a novel that is both intellectually enriching and emotionally profound. It offers a rare blend of historical perspective, character depth, and literary elegance, making it an unforgettable reading experience.

I began reading this book cautiously. As one page turned to the next, and the next, and the next, caution morphed into entertainment, entertainment into fun, fun into pleasure. All this, while anticipating what surprise might occur on the next page --- page by page --- until the story ended and I discovered myself in bed enjoying the delight I was feeling. Now, I wonder how many days will pass before I read it again --- probably not many. “A Gentleman in Moscow” is story about Count Rostov, a fictional character, who faces imposed changes, during and after the Russian Revolution. Don't be deceived, it’s not a self-help manual. The Count’s resume sets the stage well: “Count Alexander Rostov, recipient of the Order of Saint Andrew, member of the Jockey Club, Master of the Hunt, and godson of a counselor to the Tsar....” What an unexpected introduction of a Russian protagonist who experiences The Revolution plus several following decades. I found myself asking: "Is there a difference between, an aristocrat, a gentleman, a man; between surviving and living? Does he survive? If so, how and for how long? If so, is it because he’s an aristocrat, because he’s a gentleman, or because of the way he adapts to change?" I found myself asking an additional question: "Is 'A Gentleman in Moscow’s' value to me discovering that the more I respected and loved the Count, the more I seem to better understand aspects of myself...or at least some of his behaviors that I wished were more of me." If these questions don't attract you, it’s still a good story ... no, a great story ... no, even more so a wonderful story. Amor Towles delivers an upbeat love story about how the protagonist works to adjust his life and self-image, after his world is turned upside down and continues to be so for over thirty years. You may even find Towles may have borrowed snippets --- intended or not --- of Homer’s "Odyssey," Hugo’s "Les Misérables" or Dvorak’s opera "Ritalka" in the protagonist’s actions and story line. Count Rostov confronts a wide variety of disruptions to his life. The narrator describes solutions and transformations Rostov creates and changes, that he makes and doesn't make --- while retaining his essence --- while executing actions. Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov’s 32-year journey with he and his collaborators captivated me, through the whole book.. When I read this story again, I'll spend additional time focusing on the charming collection of unexpected sub-stories flowing within the main story. I expect to spend additional time enjoying attempts to decide whether the tales are mythical, a fairy tale, a fantasy, an epic journey, or something else similar, yet different, like the movies: “Sunset Boulevard: A Hollywood Story” (1950); “A Princess Bride (1987), “Groundhog Day” (1993), or even a little of “Casablanca” (1942)*. Characters, in this story, are designed to be important but not necessarily totally believable ... after all, the character’s lack of complete reality is part of the story’s motif and magic. Complete accuracy might destroy the story’s enjoyment. After all, the story’s a fictional novel ... a delightful one. It’s not a non-fiction, historical, academic tome. It’s especially not a doctoral dissertation about Russian history, during the first half of the twentieth century. Russia’s changing culture during this time-period functions primarily as background for Towles’ story --- a background that’s part of the story’s metaphor, symbolism, and descriptive scenery. Count Rostov tells his story about his government's-imposed isolation upon him, and his adjustments to the resulting changes. Light-hearted, metaphorical mysticism hovers around each key-characters’ behavior in delightful ways --- like a mist. It seemed that each turned page delivers a surprise or a pleasant smile. I plan to re-read this story when I return home after working hard, desiring to read something for enjoyment, desiring something that will let me leave behind the day’s intensities, desiring something that will rest me, that will help find comfort with where and who I am --- as I adjust to the life-imposed changes on me ... perhaps even a little more like our fictional Count's responses. “A Gentleman in Moscow” is a story well written; I enjoyed it as such. P.S. "One of the best books I've ever read" is what 100% of the twelve attending members of my "men's book club agreed, in our meeting earlier this week. Attendees also agreed that this event is the only time in over ten years of meetings that members have unanimously agreed that they enjoyed a book, Usually, at least one or more members express opposing viewpoints about whether the book was worth reading. *"The Karate Kid" (1984), "Forest Gump" (1994), "It's a Wonderful Life" (1947), or even "Pretty Woman. (1990).

Summary in at tweet. “Gentleman” is eloquent, witty, thought provoking, poetic, and meaningful. It is a welcome relief from and an antidote to a world drowning in tweets, click journalism, hypocrisy, and selfies. Novelists shouldn’t he held more accountable to historic accuracy than the President. Slithering Bishop, perfect antagonist. Stripped wine labels, a metaphor for the revolution. Count won’t countenance escape to America. Count’s rules of civility internally forged. Tinker Grey’s Rules of Civility externally imposed. Both are on the run. Character development and plot. The plot was as subtle as his word craft. Gentlemanly. All the characters were wonderfully developed, but the one who stands out is the Bishop, the Count’s foil. Since protagonists are measured in contrast to their antagonists, the Bishop serves an essential role. Slithering on the bias rather than moving by rank and file, the Bishop embodies the qualities of the “anti-gentleman”. His decision to reorganize the Metropol’s wine cellar is one of the more memorable scenes in the book. As a tip of the hat to egalitarianism (but more likely in the spirit of retribution), the Bishop orders that all wine labels be removed from the one hundred thousand bottles in the Metropol’s inventory. This is possibly the most symbolic of the Bishop’s acts in that in one afternoon it eradicated the individuality of each bottle, by distilling untold permutations of climate, grape and vintner into but two categories “white” or “red”. If one wanted to toy with symbolism, individuality was sacrificed to provide a simple choice, Royalist (white), versus Bolshevik (red). “Whichever wine was within, it was decidedly not identical to its neighbors. On the contrary, the contents of the bottle in his hand was the product of a history as unique and complex as that of a nation, or a man. In its color, aroma, and taste, it would certainly express the idiosyncratic geology and prevailing climate of its home terrain. But in addition, it would express all the natural phenomena of its vintage. In a sip, it would evoke the timing of that winter's thaw, the extent of that summer's rain, the prevailing winds, and the frequency of clouds. Yes, a bottle of wine was the ultimate distillation of time and place; a poetic expression of individuality itself.” Historical accuracy? Who cares? Douglas Smith’s the Former People (2012) provides an accurate and acclaimed historical account of the nobility’s plight. The Count should have been terrified given that his fate was determined by class. The Red Terror’s form of “justice” was quite simple,”Do not look in the file of incriminating evidence to see whether or not the accused rose up against the Soviets with arms or words. Ask him instead to which class he belongs, what is his background, his education, his profession. These are the the questions that will determine the fate of the accused. “ (Martin Latsis in Douglas Smith, the Forgotten People). So it is odd that the Count escapes with his life while in full view of the Metropol’s patrons, some of whom are party officials. So, how does the Count survive? Towles employs a gimmick, i.e., the emergency committee is moved by a revolutionary poem attributed to the Count. I have read the poem a number of times and fail to see its power, especially when you contrast it with competing revolutionary verses. Had he written the following Song of the Peasant, he might have stood a chance of escaping the gallows. …We’ve suffered insults long enough, and submitted too long to the nobles! … Altogether now let’s plunder …And from the bitter aspens shall we hang every last lackey of the VampireTsar. (1917) Now, that is a rallying cry! Because of this, it was difficult for some readers to suspend belief. In my view (which is also Towles’ view) such insistence on historical accuracy misses the point. Gentleman is not an historical novel. It is a novel loosely set in a period, but its emphasis is firmly set on inner life of the Count and the relationships he fosters over the course of thirty years of internal exile. The criticism that “Gentleman” is somehow flawed because of a few historical short cuts is particularly irritating to Towles. In an interview he quipped, “why should a novelist he held to a higher standard of truth than the President of the United States.” You could take his point one step further and ask why modern literature should be held to a higher standard than Shakespeare’s Henry V in which certain facts (e.g., the King of France was insane) are suppressed and others emphasized. In so doing, Shakespeare crafted the tale he wished, one that is purely English and extolling the virtue of English courage. In Towles case, adding graphic detail about the “Red Terror” would have produced a completely different book. It would have detracted from his intent which was to engage his characters, toy with phraseology, and philosophize about the human condition. Characters are his focus, not external events. Where do these elegant lines come from? Towles revealed in an interview that the phrases and musings materialize on the page as if the characters were authoring them and he is simply a witness to his art. He says as much in voicing the Count’s response to a question posed by emergency committee at the beginning of the book. “Vyshinsky: Why did you write the poem? Rostov: It demanded to be written. I simply happened to be sitting at the particular desk on the particular morning when it chose to make its demands.” Allegory for our time? Towles claims this book is not a parable, but that leaves open the possibility that it might be an allegory. Like the hotel, the book has secret passages, or at least passages that invite interpretation. What strikes me most about Gentleman is how much his writing struck a chord. Most everyone who has read the book is in agreement that his style is mesmerizing. It is lyrical and poetic. But, I have a feeling that people are drawn to the book for deeper reasons, one being that it serves as an antidote to an unending drone of tweets, click journalism, hypocrisy and lies. Towles plays with sentences, even a sentence about sentences. In some cases he plays for the sake of it. For example, “Here, indeed, was a formidable sentence--one that was on intimate terms with a comma, and that held the period in healthy disregard.” He could have written “That was a long sentence.” Glad he didn’t. Another, “But, alas, sleep did not come so easily to our weary friend. Like in a reel in which the dancers form two rows, so that one of their number can come skipping brightly down the aisle, a concern of the Count’s would present itself for his consideration, bow with a flourish, and then take its place at the end of the line so that the next concern could come dancing to the fore.” He could have written, “He fell asleep counting troubles instead of sheep.” Glad he didn’t. Then there are passages that have no straight forward translation, but leave you to ponder, and then ponder some more. "...a gentleman should turn to a mirror with a sense of distrust. For rather than being tools of self-discovery, mirrors tended to be tools of self-deceit." “That sense of loss is exactly what we must anticipate, prepare for, and cherish to the last of our days; for it is only our heartbreak that finally refutes all that is ephemeral in love.” Perhaps Towles most important achievement is reminding us that we are not immune to change, either as individuals or as a nation. In fact, change is a theme that recurs throughout the book. It is either glacial (on the personal level), circular (cannons melted for church bells and bells for cannons), or dramatic (in the case of the revolution). It was the Count’s view that change was both inevitable and disquieting, and for Russia’s nobility terrifying. His deep sense of purpose that took root during his exile in the Metropol was born of humility. Once stripped of his possessions and his link to the past severed, he was forced to confront his fate with a freshness of purpose. That was the preparation he needed in order to invite Sophia into his life and chart a new direction, one propelled by childlike innocence. On a grander scale, one might argue that dramatic change was long overdue in Russia. The feudal system had produced a backward economy populated by the illiterate and poor. “Red Terror” was the result, and its henchman ruthlessly purged institutions that were even tangentially connected to Tsarist Russia. That meant the nobility, works of art, religion, historic buildings, writers, painters, and poets all were destroyed or exiled in the pursuit of a more egalitarian state. I believe that this wanton destruction of institutions in the name of egalitarianism is what has gotten readers attention, and is partly responsible for driving the book’s popularity. For aren’t we seeing something similar today. Scientific institutions, social norms, the legal system, logical discourse, and religious tolerance are under attack. Aren’t we now feeling some remorse for ignoring the plight of the poor in America (as in 1917, the Russian nobility regretted too late the plight of the serfs). Admittedly, the scale of the attack is nowhere near as vicious as the Bolshevik’s leveled against the Russian nobility, but it is similar in form. Perhaps we are witnessing more of an Orange Horror than a Red Terror. Regardless, Towles reminds us that well intended change will be disquieting. If Towles did nothing else, he at least gave us the Count as a guide for how to navigate the uncertainties produced by the onslaught of change! Could the Count countenance an escape to the U.S.? Where did he go? America is portrayed ambiguously in the book. It’s music suggests its free wheeling life affirming nature, but on a dark note, Osip (former colonel and party member, studying English and American culture under the Count’s tutelage) suggests that change is as destructive in America as in the Soviet Union. In short, the dialogue between the Osip and the Count reveals America’s contradictions. In a few short paragraphs Towles lays out the ambiguity of American society, a few of which are borrowed from Tocqueville’s impression of America. The freshness of jazz “And yet, the art form had grown on him. Like the American correspondents, jazz seemed a naturally gregarious force – one that was a little unruly and prone to say the first thing that popped into its head, but generally of good humor and friendly intent. In addition, it seemed decidedly unconcerned with where it had been or where it was going – exhibiting somehow simultaneously the confidence of the master and the inexperience of the apprentice. Was there any wonder that such an art had failed to originate in Europe?” Destruction of the past (creatively in the U.S., administratively in the Soviet Union) "but do you think the achievements of the Americans-envied the world over-came without a cost? Just ask their African brothers. And do you think the engineers who designed their illustrious skyscrapers or built their highways hesitated for one moment to level to lovely little neighborhoods that stood in their way?...we and the Americans will lead the rest of this century because we are the only nations who have learned to brush the past aside instead of bowing before it. But where they so do in service of their beloved individualism, we are attempting to do so in service of the common good." American’s need for comfort “There is not a single country in the civilized world where less attention is paid to philosophy than the United States” And, The minds of Americans, he says, are universally preoccupied with meeting the body’s every need and attending to life’s little comforts.” The darker side of American capitalism “they seemed to depict an America in which corruption and cruelty lounged on the couch; in which justice was a beggar and kindness a fool; in which loyalties were fashioned from paper, and self-interest was fashioned from steel. In other words, they provided an unflinching portrayal of Capitalism as it actually was.” I suspect that the Count would welcome some aspect of American culture and might even be willing to tolerate an American economic dynamism fueled by a cycle of creation and destruction. What he could not countenance is the darker side of American capitalism and its people’s preoccupation with comfort. The Count’s view is just the opposite. He says, “But in the end, it has been the inconveniences that have mattered to me most.” Nor would he feel at home with a people so preoccupied with themselves. He says,”…a gentleman should turn to a mirror with a sense of distrust. For rather than being tools of self-discovery, mirrors tended to be tools of self-deceit." I will leave it up to the reader to guess which end of the spectrum the Count occupies and which end tends to be more American. Lastly, I would add that the pace of life in America would not suit the Count well, for time in America is meted in seconds rather than the clang of the twice tolling clock. If for no other reason than that, America would appear to be a poor choice. Instead, I opt for his escape to Paris where he occupies a small back room in Sophia’s flat. I can envision him living his last days simply un-intrusively, sipping fresh coffee at a nearby cafe, conversing with the regulars, … after the twice tolling clock’s first chime. The Gentleman and Rules of Civility. Towle’s Rules of Civility gets its name from a list of rules George Washington developed to guide persons of culture to comport themselves in high society (the American nobility). No doubt, the Count exhibited many of the behaviors the rules were intended to foster. However, the rules were not causative. In the Count’s case he was guided by an internal compass (his own rules) forged over the course of a life. It was the intertwined helix of love and loss that shaped him and gave him direction. By way of contrast, Tinker Grey, a main character in Rules of Civility, makes a conscious effort to shed the “Rules” in his search for ephemeral freedom. The only thing they share in common is, they are both on the run.

A Gentleman In Moscow chronicles the plight of the titular Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov, a former aristocrat sentenced to a life of house arrest at the Hotel Metropol. The Count’s saga begins in 1922, in the wake of the Bolshevik Revolution, and unfolds over the course of 32 years. Stripped of his spatial liberties, Rostov is forced to confront limited circumstances or risk wasting away in the confines of the Metropol. His odyssey is whimsical, colored by a motley cast of characters weaved into the broader narrative. Upon his sentencing, a 32-year-old Rostov returns to the Metropol to find himself relegated from a grand suite to an attic room. It’s within the humbler living quarters that he contemplates a maxim imparted to him by his godfather: “if a man does not master his circumstances then he is bound to be mastered by them.” As the reader comes to learn, the Count doesn’t yet grasp the essence of that statement. In just a few years, he‘ll find himself indeed mastered by his circumstances. Rostov will find himself on the precipice, atop the parapet of the hotel’s roof, one intentional step away from a precipitous fall to his death. In time, the Count will ultimately flourish in the Metropol. But the credit isn’t his to take - he’ll owe his transformation to the fortuitous intervention of several figures. One of them is named Nina Kulikova, a nine-year-old child when the Count meets her. Nina is a quirky character who, time and again, challenges his preconceptions with childlike skepticism. The pair form a bond that later serves as the basis for a curious twist of fate. A year into his house arrest, Rostov also meets the acquaintance of a “willowy” woman, Anna Urbanova, an actress with whom he launches a decades-long affair. A few years later, Rostov finds employment as head waiter of the hotel’s premier restaurant, setting off an unlikely friendship with the brutish head chef and the attentive maître d’. The Count, formally educated and erudite, participates in a different kind of education delivered through interactions with his benefactors. I was initially reluctant to read this novel, which on the surface is a period piece with a mildly interesting premise. Even almost a fifth through the book, I wasn’t particularly taken by it - the early chapters are sluggish. But by the time the Count concludes a round of adventures with Nina and engages with Anna, the plot begins to progress beautifully. Amidst its unraveling, Amor Towles laces the narrative with insight. As the Count dines with Anna the day he meets her, he extolls the virtues of withholding judgment: “After all, what can a first impression tell us about someone we’ve just met for a minute in the lobby of a hotel? For that matter, what can a first impression tell us about anyone? Why, no more than a chord can tell us about Beethoven, or a brushstroke about Botticelli. By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration—and our unwavering determination to withhold our opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour.” The book’s storyline becomes enthralling as the pace quickens. Each of the revolving cast finds an appropriate place to make his or her mark. I found myself celebrating their improbable victories and sympathizing as they were inevitably humbled by setbacks. Anna, who’s initially haughty and pompous, later develops a tender disposition after recovering from a fall from grace. In the midst of her difficulties, she has a chance encounter at the Metropol with the Count, who reflects on the “Confederacy of the Humbled.” “Like the Freemasons, the Confederacy of the Humbled is a close-knit brotherhood whose members travel with no outward markings, but who know each other at a glance. For having fallen suddenly from grace, those in the Confederacy share a certain perspective. Knowing beauty, influence, fame, and privilege to be borrowed rather than bestowed, they are not easily impressed. They are not quick to envy or take offense. They certainly do not scour the papers in search of their own names. They remain committed to living among their peers, but they greet adulation with caution, ambition with sympathy, and condescension with an inward smile.” All of us, in the course of living out our lives, will suffer from profound misfortunes. Having no command over such trajectories, we’re left to employ the tool of perspective to guide our inward response to tragedy. Accordingly, we’re presented with two choices. We can either dismiss the notion that perspective can alleviate suffering, or we can choose to hone it with intention. Rostov, though sometimes twee in sentiment, offers keen observations. And so the story goes. The novel isn’t really a period piece with a mildly interesting premise after all. It’s an exploration of the human condition that borrows Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov’s plight as a way to survey the undulations of a life. I’m aware of and respect the criticisms of the book: there may be historical inaccuracies, unrealistic representations of conditions under the Bolshevik regime, etc. I’d implore a would-be reader to cast aside expectations of a rigorous historical treatment - there’re plenty of non-fiction texts that serve that purpose. A Gentleman In Moscow is merely a fictional account, and as such it might not be congruent with historical facts. Nor does it have to be. Rather than nit-pick the setting’s portrayal, I view it simply as a backdrop against which an endearing tale is told. I suppose the book resonates with me as I find myself at an inflection point in my own life. Having been thrusted into a precarious situation with a yet unknown outcome, I find myself joining the ranks of the Confederacy of the Humbled. The Count’s story exemplifies that even under reduced circumstances, one has the option to once and again turn the kaleidoscope - to view things differently. My health has been besieged and put under risk. Yet in these trying times I derive comfort from his wisdom: “He had said that our lives are steered by uncertainties, many of which are disruptive or even daunting; but that if we persevere and remain generous of heart, we may be granted a moment of supreme lucidity—a moment in which all that has happened to us suddenly comes into focus as a necessary course of events, even as we find ourselves on the threshold of a bold new life that we had been meant to lead all along.”

What can one say about a book written about … and clearly by … a gentleman of great refinement, culture, and learning? The Count chooses to use Montaigne’s statement that “the surest sign of wisdom is constant cheerfulness” as advice for his daughter Sofia (p.419). Being a philosopher at heart, the Count relishes Montaigne’s works of natural science. Being a practical man, he finds the volume ideal to level his table and destroys it to smuggle his money. In fact, Montaigne’s full quote might well be the best description of the Count, one which he surely would have been flattered by: “The soul in which philosophy dwells should by its health make even the body healthy. It should make its tranquility and gladness shine out from within; should form in its own mold the outward demeanor, and consequently arm it with a graceful pride, an active and joyous bearing, and a contented and good-natured countenance. The surest sign of wisdom is constant cheerfulness.” The name of the family estate, Idlehour, seemed to capture the essence of the Count for the first 150 pages or so. The effete young man who “knew the lilacs in the Alexander Gardens better than any man in Moscow” because he could “spend whole afternoons” enjoying them set my teeth on edge. Thoreau in Moscow, or just abject dilettante? But the marvelous turn of phrase, the elegant thought dragged me into the Count’s corner. Who could dislike a brilliant thinker who has had the bad luck to be born an aristocrat. (…and we are back to Montaigne, aren’t we?) The marvelous writing got me over the precociousness of the children, first Nina and then Sofia. Precocious children are cliché … we adults might find unprecocious children unable to carry the weight of a major part in a story or play … but Towles carried them off wonderfully. The writing mastered the cliché. And about that writing. It seemed sometimes as if Towles was channeling the great nineteenth century Russian writers. Lush, detailed descriptions of places, sights, sounds and certainly food. Long ruminations about the meaning in life. Always eloquent, sometimes over the top. (“Surely, the span of time between the placing of an order and the arrival of appetizers is one of the most perilous in all human interaction.” Perhaps a major problem for people who can afford top-line restaurants, but all human interaction? The observation is entirely in character for the Count. But that sort of clever inanity bordered on pretentious and degraded the Count’s character, even while I was chuckling at the well-turned phrase.) The book was a wonderful story told in 462 10-pitch font pages. Hemingway would have gone ballistic reading it, I’m sure. (He might have been jealous, too? Nah. Not Hemingway.) The Count was a man of admirable intellect and fine education with a great deal of time on his hands to think. Without being hypercritical, that is a description of the middle two-thirds of the book. Plot elements often disappeared for fifty or a hundred pages, only to pop up and send the reader on a frantic search for pretext and context. And often, the pretext was vague. Thirty years under house arrest? Really? Or did the commissars just forget? Why and how the switch from aristocrat to waiter? Why would (spoiler) Anna appear in a tavern the Count wasn’t even sure existed anymore? That having been said, the end chapters artfully knit together threads of thought that gently, very much in the Count’s voice, spoke to eternal human themes: friendship, parental love, wisdom. Oh, yes, and passingly on the idiocy of bureaucracy.