by Thomas B. Griffith
Anna Karenina is in the news. She always seems to be. 
Last year two new English translations of Tolstoy’s masterpiece were published, and each year it seems that Anna Karenina tops many of those maddening but fun lists of the “best books ever.”
I was introduced to the novel at BYU right after my mission. I registered for a hefty spring-term course titled “Readings in the Classics.” Under the tutelage of English professor Mae Blanch, our class read 30 classics of Western literature. Each weekday we met for three hours to take part in discussions led by Professor Blanch and other BYU literary experts.
To me, the class was the epitome of a liberal college education. It was transformative, especially reading Anna Karenina. As I waded into the novel, whose size alone was daunting, I struggled—not with following the narrative but with understanding why, at “the Lord’s university,” I was being asked to read a story about adultery.
When Tom Rogers, professor of Russian literature, came to class to lead our discussion on Anna Karenina, I was ready to confront him with my concerns. But I never raised my hand. With the opening words of his lecture, Professor Rogers took the weapon out of my hand and changed my entire way of thinking about the purpose of a liberal education. “Ours is not to judge Anna,” he said. “Ours is to understand her.”
There it was. He was calling on us to read Anna Karenina not so we would mimic Anna’s behavior or delight in sin but in hopes that we might see that the elements of the story that so appealed to our emotions were also the very sources of the tragic repercussions that followed.
We study the liberal arts to understand others. We confront open allures to learn to avoid them ourselves and, just as important, to warn others of their hidden costs. We study literature and art as acts of love because we care about what others think about life, its purposes, and how it should be lived. Most important, we do so because such study prepares us to be of greater help to those around us.
But what about my initial concern with reading a story about adultery? I recall many a conversation at BYU about where to draw the line between literature that gives valuable insight into the human condition and works that degrade. That question is not unique to BYU. Similar line drawing has proven to be a difficult task for courts and legislatures that seek to distinguish between the obscene and expressions that merit legal protection. As far as I can tell, there is no simple formula, but something BYU humanities professor Arthur Bassett taught his students can help inform the undertaking.
If life eternal is to know God and Christ (as the Lord Himself tells us in John 17:3), then, Professor Bassett stressed, we should do our best to understand His greatest project: humankind. We study literature and art because they help us understand the “splendid strangers”1 who the Restoration reveals are kin to us and are the object of God’s love and attention. Wherever we draw that line, we must be careful not to cut ourselves off from the call to understand humankind.
As Latter-day Saints, we look for truth wherever it may be found. We are told to “seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom” (D&C 88:118). In that search, we assume truth is found not only within the Church and its canon. It does not surprise us when Nephi teaches that the Lord inspires men and women throughout the world.
But have we noticed that Nephi teaches that the Lord will measure our lives by what these men and women write? “For I command all men . . . that they shall write the words which I speak unto them; for out of the books which shall be written I will judge the world, every man according to their works, according to that which is written” (2 Ne. 29:11).
Quizzed at the judgment bar about Kitty and Levin? I doubt it. But whether we searched for understanding from the experience of others is central to the purpose of our lives.
Thomas B. Griffith, a BYU humanities graduate, is a judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit. He served as BYU general counsel and as legal counsel for the U.S. Senate.
Note
1. G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (Garden City, New York: Image Books, 1959), pp.20-21