Tolstoy was a "giant, striding through the world with his eyes wide open and his nostrils flaring." He didn't miss much. After reading this and his other great work, War and Peace, I was pretty much dumbfounded by his accomplishment.
To me, one halmark of true art, whether it be the Sistine Chapel, Beethoven's ninth, King Lear, Paradise Lost, Faust, etc. is how they are even conceived, much less carried off. I am in awe of very few authors, but Tolstoy has to rank as one of the true big leaguers, and this novel captures him at the height of his powers. No one could touch him, not even Dostoevsky, and certainly not Turgenev.
I think he does an even better job than Flaubert (another of my heroes) at portraying a woman as his central character. I can't speak from experience, obviously, but both Emma and Anna come across as realistically fleshed-out, multi-dimensional figures.
I probably lean towards Anna because she is a much more sympathetic character than Emma Bovary. She is an aristocrat in the true sense of the word, not just born into a noble family, but possessing a nobility of spirit as well. Unlike Emma, she loves her child. Her husband, Karenin, is dry and humorlessly ascerbic, with the soul of a civil servant. He uses the child as a pawn to get back at Anna.
Vronsky, in contrast, is dashing and clever and looks great in his uniform. In short,Anna is doomed as soon as she meets him. Fate (of the ancient Greek variety) wends its way through the novel, dragging her inexorably to her doom.
There are so many vivid scenes throughout, but the most memorable to me is the scene in which Vronsky's racehorse breaks down, foreshadowing the conclusion at the train station.
The subplot involving Levin and Kitty does not detract from the main plot, as it might in the hands of a lesser novelist. It is undeniably less dramatic, but serves as a counterpoint precisely because it is more prosaic. Levin is saved by love, Anna destroyed by it.
I really don't believe in re-reading books. I'm usually disappointed when I return to them after a prolonged interval. For instance, I just can't bring myself to read War and Peace again, though I did enjoy listening to the BBC audiotape recently. As to reasing the novel again, it would be like returning to an earlier affair. I'd be afraid my response wouldn't be as rich as it was at first encounter. But Anna is different. I've read it three times and haven't tired of it in the least. I really couldn't praise a work of art more highly.
This Penguin edition is the translation I've most enjoyed. The recent Pevear/Volokhonsky translation has been well received, and may be a good bet for those who haven't read the work before. Primarily due their use of Russian patrynomics, I have a hard time figuring out which character they are writing about. The same difficulty presented itself to me in their translation of The Brothers Karamazov and The Possessed. They probably are more accurate translations, however.