A Gentleman in Moscow

I am perhaps most grateful for having the opportunity to venture into Towles’ fantastic narrative in 2017.

I’ve always been envious of my Father because he has an intricate tie to the Urdu language, as a child native to Pakistan, and an individual with a decently vast breadth of knowledge of poets and writers of the day. He often speaks to us about how sometimes, the beauty in a piece of writing lies not within the symbolism or the meaning, but in the beautifully sweet usage of the words.

Language is something that becomes so arbitrary and ordinary that it is rare to become surprised by its nuances and tickled by its delights. Like the blade of our favorite knife, when used often it inevitably dulls, and it never reaches the same level of sharpness unless it is maintained regularly. Language slips away as easily as it comes for most of us, which is unfortunate as language has the power to evoke sentiments that most other tools cannot.

For language is a tool, and we forget to think of it in that way. Amor Towles is a master of language. For the first time in my life, I was able to experience something similar to what my father has tried to express to me so many times. The way that Towles was able to construct his sentences, to use words whose replacement could not bare the same sentiment, to utter a phrase that upon delivery, one is temporarily stunned into an awed silence. There is no way to describe it other than to say that the words are sweeter than honey. There is a decadence, an iridescence, a sense of ethereal otherness that accompanies each sentence in this novel. It makes every line worth savoring. It leaves ones lips carved into a permanent smile. It makes one strive to soak up knowledge with the hopes that one day it can be delivered with an ounce of the finesse exhibited by Amor Towles.

Of course, the book is much more than a series of beautifully constructed sentences. The narrative is one that will resonate with all dualities in this world: the young and the old, the restricted and the free, the educated and the illiterate, the rich and the poor, the depressed and the elated, the modern and the traditional.

Count Alexander Ilyich Rostoff’s house arrest in the Metropol Hotel in Moscow, Russia is both a tantalizing tale of growth and self-reflection, and an ode to the changing political atmosphere in a Russia rapidly evolving during the Bolshevik revolution. The irony of a rapidly changing political atmosphere with a tale that takes place almost entirely within the bounds of a Grand Hotel is not lost: it is illuminating to see that while in some ways it may feel like the changes which occur are larger than life, they can just as easily can become almost obsolete under the right circumstances-- while under house arrest, for example.

The Count’s journey from a rich and entitled man who has experienced every luxury in life to a man destined to live out his days in a 100 square foot room, with most of his personal possessions too physically large to accompany him in the transition to his new life, is simply delightful. Not only does the reader fall in love with his exquisite ability to discern the most trivial ingredients in an intricate dish, but we admire his poise and moral code, his emphasis on gentlemanliness, of etiquette and order. We fawn over his fierce friendship with Nina Karakova, an intrusive and curious 9 year old girl, who, in more ways than one, expands the Count’s worldview and heart. We admire his efforts to allow change to come from within himself, rather than allowing his circumstances to force him to change.

The emotional transformation of the Count is something everyone needs to witness for themselves. This book is an instant classic, something I cannot wait to purchase and display on my shelf and discuss at length for decades to come. It is nothing short of a literary masterpiece, in every sense of the word.

Amor Towles, I salute you.