A Swim in a Pond in the Rain: In Which Four Russians Give a Master Class on Writing, Reading, and Life

by George Saunders

But to say that the story is nearly all facts doesn’t mean that Tolstoy is a minimalist. He has a gift for making sentences that, staying within factuality, convey a bounty of information and make a rich, detailed, almost overfull world. Consider the difference between “The maid carried the samovar to the table” and Tolstoy’s version: “After flicking with her apron the top of the samovar which was now boiling over, she carried it with an effort to the table, raised it, and set it down with a thud.” That apron flick, the woman carrying the samovar “with an effort,” the thud as she sets it down, the fact that she’s carrying it below the level of the table (she “raised it” before she could “set it down”) are all facts embroidered into the basic action “woman carries samovar to table.” Although they don’t make a more particular person (anyone could find a samovar heavy), they make a more particular action. The samovar is heavier and hotter than if she’d just “carried the samovar to the table,” and I see more of her than, by rights, I should: her red cheeks, the sweat-stained underarms of her blouse (and stepping away from the table, she blows a strand of sweat-plastered hair off her forehead).