A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll
I am a little late to this party, I believe. A Gentleman in Moscow has been on my to-read list for way too long, long enough that I will be singing to the choir when I shower nothing short of praise.
So clever this story. I found myself nodding in agreement over and over as the pages turned, smiling, as if, in cahoots with Towles himself. And did the pages turn. So much so, that I gave myself a six-week hiatus to savor the ending. Even the “Afterwards” and “And Anon” were tied up pretty in pink just like when my mother would tie a beautiful ribbon around a box, my little finger pressed in place until the loops were expertly secured.
Never has there been a more charming, sweet, and compassionate protagonist, his few faults forgotten like an old Russian aristocrat relegated to the attic. And as for the antagonist, no single person could embody the full wrath like that of a regime.
Slightly whimsical, elegantly portrayed, don’t be fooled by the easy read and warm overtures. There is a message. Much like the label-less bottles of red and white wine that prove their uniqueness, their true colors, just by being what they are, the Russian people cannot be reduced to sameness, regardless of good-of-the-public ideals or adherence to uniformity and conformity.
And as the world turns the old out and the new in, Rostov observes from his hotel perch under house arrest some of the most notable and heartbreaking history of his beloved homeland. Regardless, Rostov loves his Mother Russia. For while the emperor has a new robe, a Russian is still a Russian, and proudly so.
Towles created a beloved persona in Alexander Rostov. Witty, charming, inventive…if only I could invite him for tea. And mind you, my tea table is only set for two, for but a few.
Alas, all good things must come to an end and I bid farewell to that Gentleman in Moscow with much regret. Yet, not for long, for I understand there is a mini-series in the making. Fingers crossed that the production does justice to a novel that will always hold a place on my permanent shelves.
So clever this story. I found myself nodding in agreement over and over as the pages turned, smiling, as if, in cahoots with Towles himself. And did the pages turn. So much so, that I gave myself a six-week hiatus to savor the ending. Even the “Afterwards” and “And Anon” were tied up pretty in pink just like when my mother would tie a beautiful ribbon around a box, my little finger pressed in place until the loops were expertly secured.
Never has there been a more charming, sweet, and compassionate protagonist, his few faults forgotten like an old Russian aristocrat relegated to the attic. And as for the antagonist, no single person could embody the full wrath like that of a regime.
Slightly whimsical, elegantly portrayed, don’t be fooled by the easy read and warm overtures. There is a message. Much like the label-less bottles of red and white wine that prove their uniqueness, their true colors, just by being what they are, the Russian people cannot be reduced to sameness, regardless of good-of-the-public ideals or adherence to uniformity and conformity.
And as the world turns the old out and the new in, Rostov observes from his hotel perch under house arrest some of the most notable and heartbreaking history of his beloved homeland. Regardless, Rostov loves his Mother Russia. For while the emperor has a new robe, a Russian is still a Russian, and proudly so.
Towles created a beloved persona in Alexander Rostov. Witty, charming, inventive…if only I could invite him for tea. And mind you, my tea table is only set for two, for but a few.
Alas, all good things must come to an end and I bid farewell to that Gentleman in Moscow with much regret. Yet, not for long, for I understand there is a mini-series in the making. Fingers crossed that the production does justice to a novel that will always hold a place on my permanent shelves.
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