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Amor TowlesA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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One night at the Boyarsky, Andrey informs the Count that there is a small private party in the Yellow Room and that the host has asked for the Count to serve. The door to the Yellow Room is opened by a guard who leads him inside to the table, where the single diner sits. To the Count’s surprise, the man, whose “close-cropped hair revealed a scar above his left ear which was presumably the result of a glancing blow that had hoped to cleave his skull” (205), asks him to sit; the Count is hesitant “as a matter of decorum” (206).
The guard brings in a bottle of wine, and the stranger pours for himself and the Count. The stranger indicates he knows much about the Count; the Count says he has him “at a disadvantage” (207), for the Count knows nothing about him. The stranger invites the Count to speculate about him. The Count astutely identifies that the stranger is a colonel from eastern Georgia. The stranger says the Count is “a canny fellow” (208).
The stranger knows the Count’s history: how he went to Paris after killing the Hussar and how he returned after the Revolution. The stranger asks the Count if he believes the Bolsheviks to be gentlemen; the Count says that “some of them are” (209). The stranger asks the Count why he doesn’t see him as a gentleman, and the Count says “[i]t is an assembly of small details” (210).
The stranger reveals that he is Osip Ivanovich Glebnikov; he is a former officer in the Red Army, and is now is a Bolshevik Party officer. He tells the Count he believes Russia is on the verge of competing with Western nations to be a world power and that he wants to learn to speak English and French. He specifically wants to be able “to understand their privileged classes—for that’s who remains at the helm” (211). Osip says he would like the Count to teach him once a month and that he can offer benefits in return, though he does not indicate what they are. The Count says he is “already at your service” (212) because he is “a customer of the Boyarsky” (212).
When the Count goes to the Shalyapin that evening, he hears “the sound of gay abandon” (213) as people talk over a jazz band. Jazz, which for a time had been resisted by the Bolsheviks, is back in fashion. A group of foreign journalists sit at the bar. Once a week, the three hostesses report any news they overhear of international importance. Rather than become more tight-lipped, the journalists take bets on who can be requested at the Commissariat of Internal Affairs and fabricate stories that will result in their being summoned. The Count surprises Audrius by asking not for his usual after-dinner brandy and instead for absinthe.
The Count, Emile, and Andrey—the “Triumvirate”—have been planning for three years to make a dish that requires fifteen ingredients, nine of which are difficult to obtain. Several times they have almost had them all, only to be disappointed, until tonight. The Count takes the absinthe toward the Boyarsky but is intercepted by the Bishop, who has been promoted to assistant manager of the hotel and inquires where he is going. Hiding the absinthe in his back pocket, the Count says he forgot his pen in the Boyarsky. In the kitchen, the three men assemble as Emile cooks. The Bishop enters suddenly but is chased off by Emile.
The three men sit at a table in the kitchen for bouillabaisse. Savoring the ingredients, the Count is “transported to the port of Marseille” (222). They stay up late, eating, drinking, and talking. Andrey reveals that before working at the Boyarsky, he juggled for the traveling circus. He proves it by juggling oranges and then knives. Emile allows him to use his signature blade, “feeling that at this moment, this hour, this universe could not be improved upon” (224).
Back in his room, the Count, now drunk, tells Helen’s portrait that just as Death visits “the unwitting” (224), so does Life. He believes “[l]ife will pay Nina a visit too” (225), for she is “too alert and too vibrant for Life to let her shake a hand and walk off alone” (225).
The next morning, the Count looks for Mishka’s letter but cannot find it: it has fallen between the wall and the bookcase. Though the Count had thought Mishka’s midnight walk had been in memory of Katerina, in fact it had been prompted by the death by suicide of Vladimir Mayakovsky, “the poet laureate of the Revolution” (226).
As the Count is looking for Mishka’s letter, Nina and the other three young Bolsheviks take the train to Ivanovo, “full of energy, excitement, and a clear sense of purpose” (227).
With the First Five-Year Plan in 1928—a plan under Stalin to collectivize farmland and to industrialize—many Bolsheviks have been in cities building mills and manufacturing plants, and this effort requires more output from farmers. As many kulaks—“those profiteers and enemies of the common good, who also happened to be the regions’ most capable farmers” (227)—have been exiled and the peasants “viewed newly introduced approaches to agriculture with resentment and suspicion” (227), the region suffers “a collapse of agriculture output” (226), which then leads to “increased quotas and requisitions enforced at gunpoint” (226). News of the starvation of millions of peasants never reaches the West.
Nina is unaware of this impending “man-made disaster” (227) and arrives in Ivanovo with “the sense that her life had just begun” (227).
In the early 1930s, famine drove peasants to the cities, which resulted in overcrowding. Stalin sees a photo of three Bolshevik women and worries that, “in the context of the Western press” (229), it appears that “Russian girls still lived like peasants” (229). The Party decides “to encourage a little more glamour, a little more luxury, a little more laughter” (230). Expensive shops that had been reserved for Party officials are now open to everyone and, though the people cannot afford to buy anything, the Party’s narrative dictates that people window-shop not with “resentment” but with “wide-eyed wonder” (230).
One day, just before summer, the Count is surprised when Nina, whom he has not seen in years, approaches him in the lobby. She tells him her husband was arrested in Moscow and is in prison; he is being sent by train to Sevvostlag for five years of labor, and she intends to follow him. She asks the Count to care for her young daughter, Sofia, while she finds a job and a place to live. She places her hand on his arm and tells him she has no one else to ask, begging, “Please” (233).
Sofia exhibits “Nina’s rugged practicality” (233);her doll does not have a dress. Nina kneels before her daughter and, with tenderness the Count has never heard in her voice before, explains that Uncle Sasha, the one who gave her the binoculars, is going to look after her until they go to meet Papa. Sofia agrees yet cannot withhold her tears. She and Nina share a long moment as Nina helps her regain control. Nina gives the Count a backpack with Sofia’s things and a photograph of her and her husband before walking out of the hotel “at the pace of one who hopes to leave herself no room for second thoughts” (234). Looking at the photograph, the Count sees that Nina has married the friend who, years ago, had brought Nina her jacket in the lobby.
The Count thinks of how ill-suited he is to care for Sofia; however, given his friendship with Nina and her difficulty asking for help, he would not dream of refusing. He takes Sofia upstairs. Noticing her interest in the elevator, he foregoes the stairs. At the base of the belfry, she lifts her arms to be picked up. He leaves her while he retrieves a blanket to make a bed for her on the floor, but by the time he returns, she is asleep in his bed.
A picture of life under the Bolsheviks is represented not only through historical events outside the Metropol but also through individuals’ interactions within them. We are told about the “death by starvation for millions of peasants in the Ukraine” (227), a “man-made disaster” (227) that is hidden from the rest of the world through the manipulation of Bolshevik leaders. Party leaders further manipulate the narrative surrounding Communism by loosening superficial rules—such as the allowance of Christmas trees and jazz, or the opening of shops to the public—that belie the true want of the people. Nina’s husband is arrested and sentenced with five years of hard labor. Inside the Metropol, the Bishop, who has proven not only incompetent but also slippery and self-serving, has been promoted to assistant manager of the hotel, presumably with the help of “[a] friend with influence” (142). Just as the Bishop seems to slink about watching for behaviors inconsistent with the Party, so the hostesses at the Shalyapin are required to report any suspicious information they overhear from the journalists at the bar. Life in Russia in the 1930s is precarious and uncertain; it is a time when any ideas contrary to Party tenets are sniffed out and eliminated, when even innocuous enjoyments are forbidden.
The successful creation of the bouillabaisse by “the Triumvirate” suggests the indomitability of the human spirit. Consisting of flavors that remind the Count of the fields of Provence, Spain, Greece, and Marseille, and having been gathered from fishermen’s docks, taverns, and sun-kissed fields, the dish seems to represent a unity that’s still attainable, an imagination that can’t be squelched. Even the group’s name, “the Triumvirate”—a reference to the two great Triumvirates of Roman history, including the likes of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony—suggests greatness and importance of will even under oppression.
The Count leaves his meeting with the Triumvirate feeling proud and elated, explaining to the portrait of Helena that “[l]ife is every bit as devious as Death” in that life, too, can sneak up on the unsuspecting, as it did Mishka, who had been lured “out of the library” and on a romantic walk in reminiscence of his love (224). That the Count doesn’t realize that Mishka was lured from the library not, in fact, by romance but in mourning for the beloved poet laureate represents the Count’s seclusion. His assertion that “[l]ife will pay Nina a visit too” (225), that she is “too alert and too vibrant for Life to let her shake a hand and walk off alone” (225), seems blissfully idealistic given the events of 1938, when Nina separates from her young daughter to follow her husband to Sevvostlag. Despite the changes he has witnessed within the walls of the Metropol, beyond its walls, life proves more elusive than the Count believes it to be.
These chapters offer touching moments of individuality in which vulnerabilities are revealed and personalities laid bare. The Count and Emile are stunned to learn that elegant, impassive, impenetrable Andrey used to juggle in a traveling circus—an image that runs counter to the persona he wears at the Boyarsky. Nina, despite her infallible seriousness, shows the Count a softness he’s never witnessed in her when she speaks gently to her daughter, Sofia; despite being the “most self-reliant of souls” (233), she grips his arm and begs him to help her. These visions of people’s depth, of their unique histories and struggles, is a reminder that despite the Bolsheviks’ emphasis on the collective, each person is an entity unto him or herself.
As always, the Count retains his dignity and nobility even in the face of change and oppression. Working at the Boyarsky, he tends to the fine details of the table settings with the staunchness of Napoleon “when in the hour before dawn he walked among his ranks” (203). In his first meeting with Osip, he astutely determines details about the Bolshevik official’s life, telling him that “[i]t is the business of a gentleman to distinguish between men of rank” (207). Ironically, it is knowledge obtained as a nobleman that prompts this friendship with a Bolshevik official. Readers may recall the Bolsheviks’ simultaneous disdain for luxury and their enjoyment of it. The arrest of Nina’s husband, a Bolshevik supporter, is another indication that the Bolsheviks’ favor is arbitrary and tenuous.
By Amor Towles