This is the transcript of my latest Reviews Revisited podcast episode:
Hello and welcome to Resurrected Reviews Revisited, part of the Will You Still Love It Tomorrow podcast. I’m Annie and, in each Reviews episode, I pick something I’ve reviewed sometime since 2005, reread or rewatch it, and then compare my reactions. Fair warning: there will be spoilers.
This month, my pick is A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, which tells the story of Count Rostov, sentenced to house arrest in the Hotel Metropol in Moscow in 1922 for the crime of being born an aristocrat. Rostov witnesses decades from the relative safety and luxury of the hotel, living out his life, unable to fully engage with the world but forming deep connections with those who come and go.
Since I first read A Gentleman in Moscow – I want to say around 2019? – I’ve always listed it among my favourite books of all time.
But, nearly five years later, I only have very hazy memories of the events of the book. I remember there being a lot of significant global events happening around the main character, Count Alexander Rostov – who is under house arrest in a fancy hotel in Moscow after the revolution. But I remember the time in the hotel being largely really fluffy, heartwarming and lovely.
So, when I saw adverts for the TV series all over buses earlier this year, I was intrigued but confused. How could there be a multi-part TV show adaptation of a book where very little actually happens on the page…?
At the time of writing this, I’ve just watched the first episode and I’m even more confused. The sense of threat was palpable throughout, there were traumatic flashbacks to funerals, duels, sobbing young women and burning houses. And Rostov has to see his only surviving friend he’s in contact with get dragged out of the hotel restaurant and then hear him being shot in the street outside!
This is not the story I remember!
So, of course, I’m going to watch the rest of the TV show, making notes along the way, and then reread the book to find out the truth!
Episode two of the TV show is more like I remember the book – the discovery of the secret room and Rostov and Nina filling it with furniture and luxuries from the storage areas of the hotel.
The show is an odd mix of poignancy, tragedy, tension and humour – but that is something I remember from the book. The TV show doesn’t blend it as successfully as the book, though, so it’s a bit all over the place. It’s also got Ewan McGregor playing 32 at 53 at the start, which is a bit of a stretch, but then the book covers more than thirty years, so I guess they had to pick someone within that age range somehow.
In episode three, there was a lot more angst and shouting and flinging of crockery than I remember. It was all about various people trying to explain privilege to Rostov – how much he enjoyed when he was younger and how much he still enjoys as a prisoner in a fancy hotel, rather than being reduced cleaning toilets, like some of his previous associates.
I also don’t remember the tragic past of his sister committing suicide after Rostov prevented her from having a future with Mishka. All in all, it’s much more sad and layered with pain than I remember from the book.
Episode four is ten years after Rostov’s imprisonment, so by necessity, the TV show skips over time more quickly than the book. I love the development of all the relationships, with the undertones of menace and threat from the party ever present. And then it skips another six years in the same episode – but I did remember Sofia turning up and Rostov having to look after her. But there’s so much doom all around him (which I guess is the point) and I remember the book being very gentle and lovely!
Episode five was the best yet, charting the first month of Sofia’s residence with Rostov at the hotel. I loved how all the staff (except the evil deputy manager, of course), as well as Anna, Olga and the culture minister rallied around Rostov, helping him look after Sofia and working together to allow her to stay after the deputy manager tried to get her taken away to an orphanage. Since Sofia’s narration says she never found out what happened to her mother, I assume the shots we got of Nina’s body being tipped into a mass grave in Siberia were created purely for the TV show, which suggests it is a lot grimmer in some ways than the book.
Episode six somehow just skips the entire Second World War, which again I don’t remember happening in the book, but I guess the TV show needs to skip time more than the book would.
Episodes Seven and Eight involve Rostov spying on an important meeting being held at the hotel and Sofia having to deliver the tapes in exchange for being allowed to escape Russia on a school trip to France – which is again a lot more exciting than I remember the book being. Rostov and Anna promise they’ll follow her but assume they won’t be able to and will likely be in danger of their lives once it’s discovered Sofia is gone. There’s a dreamy sequence at the end that suggests they may have made it out and lived out the rest of their lives in an isolated country cottage, but it feels more like a wistful hope of Sofia’s than something that actually happened – and it’s also not something I remember from the book.
So, overall, either I really do remember nothing of this book or a lot of liberties have been taken with the TV adaptation – and I’m guessing it’s a mixture of the two.
It’s some months before I’ve finally got round to picking up the book, and now it’s the TV show that’s quite hazy, so my comparisons may not be particularly astute – ah well.
The first glaring difference is that Rostov in the book is six foot three, but I guess that’s not wildly important. He’s very appealing, though, which Ewan McGregor portrayed very well in the show. But there’s also early evidence that the story was beefed up quite a bit for TV, when the flashback to Rostov returning to Russia in 1918 to get his grandmother to leave the country involves no mention of their ancestral home being on fire at the time… Also, his minder, Glebnikov, is introduced right away in the TV show and is a major character throughout, but doesn’t appear at the start of the book.
Those thoughts aside, it’s such a gorgeous book – gentle and uneventful in some ways, but still deeply affecting, and I’m really enjoying it.
It turns out that I was right to be shocked by the violin player, Nikolai Petrov, being dragged out of the hotel and shot in the square – because that very much doesn’t happen in the book! Rather than being a dear friend of Rostov’s, he’s a casual acquaintance who only appears for a few paragraphs in the book and his fate is revealed in a lengthy footnote, where it specifically states that, while he is arrested, he absolutely is not taken out and shot. In fact, he is exiled from Moscow and lives out a perfectly happy life in another town fifty miles away.
There is a bit of overly dramatic foreshadowing in the book, with the first section ending with a reference to Rostov intending to commit suicide four years later. I think the book deserves better than that – if readers are annoyed by the slow place and lack of action, that’s not going to be solved by tempting them to rush ahead by saying something exciting might happen later. It’s really not that kind of book.
Like Glebnikov, Anna turns up later in the book than might be expected from watching the TV show and is in it a lot less – but her introduction with the dog escaping her control and running riot in the hotel before Rostov calls them to heel is almost exactly the same, as is their subsequent assignation in her suite.
The background to Rostov’s sister is completely different, though, since there’s no reference to a potential romance between her and Mishka, Rostov does shoot her feckless lover, but not in a duel and the shot isn’t fatal. And Helena dies of scarlet fever, rather than committing suicide. So again, the TV show changed a lot to make it more dramatic.
Weirdly, though, the peripheral characters (apart from Nina, Anna and Sofia, I assume) – ie the hotel staff and Glebnikov – are in the book much less overall than they are in the TV show and therefore don’t stand out as much as layered, distinctive characters. In the book, despite having quite a large circle of friends and acquaintances, Rostov leads quite an internal existence and those around him are set at a remove to emphasise how set apart he is by his inability to leave the hotel. There’s also a certain remoteness to Rostov’s character in some ways, because the narrative exclusively refers to him as ‘the Count’, which is a little distancing.
I do think it’s a bit over the top to compare his imprisonment and isolation to that of The Count of Monte Cristo or Robinson Crusoe, though – particularly when a discussion about why imprisoned men keep track of the passage of time is immediately followed by a description of Rostov donning his ‘best smoking jacket’ to go down to dinner on his first anniversary of being confined to the hotel. I mean, yes, he’s not allowed to leave, but it’s a pretty nice prison as it goes, and he leads a very luxurious lifestyle.
Though I do love the fact that, subsequent to changing his mind about killing himself, Rostov finds a purpose in becoming the head waiter in the hotel’s fancy restaurant. It’s already been established that he is very skilled in matters of food, wine and etiquette, so it’s a suitable position, and it adds a lovely aspect to his interactions with the other staff.
Glebnikov finally turns up nearly halfway through, when he asks Rostov to tutor him in French and English, so he can increase his diplomatic skills discreetly. He mentions that his role in the Party is to keep track of ‘certain men of interest’, so he makes it clear he’s been keeping tabs on Rostov, but it means their relationship starts much later and in less threatening circumstances than it does in the TV show.
The book, and also Rostov’s entire existence, enters a new stage at almost exactly the halfway point, with Nina turning up and asking Rostov to look after her daughter, Sofia, while she travels to Siberia in search of Sofia’s father. And, with the arrival of Sofia into the hotel, things pick up considerably. My favourite aspect of the early sections of the book is Rostov’s relationship with the young Nina and, while Sofia is very different in character, his early relationship with her is equally entertaining and engaging.
In fact, it made me realise that the most emotive sections of the book are the sweet and funny ones – the Count seems relatively untouched by the more serious things that happen, so his level emotional state (unless a waiter is suggesting the wrong wine to go with dinner) works with the remove of the narrative always referring to him by his title, to keep the reader away from deeper feelings for the most part. Descriptions are given of the suffering and hardship endured in Russia during the period, but in a dry, emotionless way, as if in a history book or, sometimes, in a light, airy tone that very much undermines their import – as with the description of how Mishka comes to be shipped to Siberia.
Glebnikov’s arc in the TV show was one of my favourites aspects – he starts out menacing and very much providing a continuing sense of threat to Rostov, but ends up risking his own career (and perhaps life) to help Rostov when Sofia is injured.
In the book, while they don’t meet until nearly halfway through, they then have regular meetings for years while Rostov is tutoring Glebnikov, though these happen almost entirely off-page, so we only get glimpses of Glebnikov and he seems very personable and friendly, even though he identifies himself as someone who could be a threat when he tells Rostov his job. So, him helping Rostov after Sofia’s accident has less impact.
I was right that Nina’s fate is not categorically stated, though the fact that she never returns is perhaps confirmation in itself that she dies in Siberia, as she would never have willingly abandoned her daughter. But the lack of deep emotion in the narrative continues with the news that she doesn’t come back being listed quite matter-of-factly in the space of one paragraph.
The potential threat of Sofia’s presence at the hotel being questioned and her perhaps being removed to an orphanage is also dispensed with in a couple of paragraphs, with it all being resolved without Rostov even knowing it was ever an issue under consideration by the authorities. This, again, was amended in the TV show to provide much more direct dramatic action, with people coming to the hotel to take Sofia away, and various people in the hotel acting to prevent it from happening.
One thing that is exactly the same in the book and the TV show is that the narrative skips from early 1938 to June 1946, thus skipping the entirety of World War Two.
There’s a brief moment of wild excitement when Sofia falls down the stairs and fractures her skull, and Rostov leaves the hotel to take her to hospital. But much like everything else, it’s all solved very quickly and easily and, as mentioned above, Glebnikov’s involvement has less significance because he’s always been friendly.
There are lots of heartwarming and amusing moments in the last third.
And, as with other darker events, Mishka’s death happens off page and is softened by Katerina’s presence and a deliberate lack of curiosity on Rostov’s part. As opposed to seeing him collapse alone in the snow in the TV show.
The climax in the book has a lot of tension, largely created by the reader not really knowing what’s going on. It’s also mostly the same as in the TV show, though it seems a shame that Anna isn’t there to say goodbye to Sofia. Anna, in fact disappears completely for the last section of the book, up until her reappearance on the last page.
The climax is also lower tech than in the TV show because Rostov just listens in on the important dinner and sends a written report to the American in exchange for Sofia getting asylum, rather than having to lug around a tape recorder strapped to his back. The whole thing also seems to have been entirely his idea, rather than him being pressured into it, almost against his will, as happens in the TV show.
At the very end of the book, Rostov and Anna meet up in the town where the Rostov estate used to be (and it turns out the mansion has burned down). So their fate seems somewhat more secure than was made out in the TV show.
It also occurs to me that the TV show was narrated by Sofia, and that made me think the book was also, but it’s very much an omniscient narrator in the book.
A paragraph on the penultimate page of the book seems particularly apropos:
“Perhaps for those returning after a long absence, the combination of heartfelt sentiments and the ruthless influence of time can only spawn disappointments. The landscape is not as beautiful as one remembered it. The local cider is not as sweet. Quaint buildings have been restored beyond recognition, while fine old traditions have lapsed to make way for mystifying new entertainments. And having imagined at one time that one resided at the very center of this little universe, one is barely recognized, if recognized at all. Thus do the wise counsel that one should steer far and wide of the old homestead.”
Perhaps this is always going to be the case when revisiting things I first read years ago. Especially so in this case, since the TV adaptation has provided a mystifying new entertainment!
And, in retrospect, though this may seem like sacrilege, but I actually think the TV show did some things better…
In terms of diversity:
There’s no mention of any diversity at all in the book, but quite a few of the main parts in the TV show were played by black actors.
Overall:
As I suspected, the TV show definitely ramped up the drama in order to be more exciting, and I can certainly see why. It made for much more compelling viewing, even while fundamentally changing the style and purpose of the original book. I enjoyed both and I think I can view them each as their own separate entity, with very different merits.
As for my overall thoughts on the book, in comparison to my previous reading of it, A Gentleman in Moscow is still an amazing book, though I don’t feel as if I connected with it this time around to the same level as the first time. As I’ve discussed in previous episodes, though, I think that may have more to do with me than with the book, particularly in situations when I’m deliberately turning an analytical eye to material I’ve read before, since that often prevents me from engaging with it fully as a purely reading experience. It’s a bit sad, though!
Looking back to my original review, I apparently first read this on a reading retreat in June 2019, and my review reads as follows:
“I was going to say that I have no idea how this book ended up on my reading list, but Cressi, who runs the reading retreats, claims she’s been recommending it to everyone, so I shall give her the credit! It’s about a Russian aristocrat, Count Rostov, who is placed under house arrest at the Hotel Metropol in Moscow in 1922 and ends up remaining there for over 30 years. While little of import actually happens to him, the whole of Russian history plays out in the background of the book, and it is utterly absorbing. I love Rostov, I love the hotel, I love the other people who work and stay at the hotel, and I love the way the story of Rostov’s confinement plays out over time. It’s a quiet book, tinged with tragedy, but also with a lot of laughter and tremendous joy. The only thing that annoyed me was that Rostov’s role within the hotel changes quite dramatically during one of the time jumps and how that came about is never explained. Otherwise, an absolute delight and highly recommended.”
I certainly still agree with all these points – so it was a reasonably similar experience revisiting this lovely book – just perhaps not as overwhelmingly positive the second time around.
And that’s it for this episode of Reviews Revisited.
Next month, I’m going to be revisiting The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters by Gordon Dahlquist, which may end up being a terrible mistake, based on my recollections of reading it before…
Many thanks to Cambo for our theme music. And thank you so much for listening. If you like the show, please rate and review it wherever you get your podcasts.
And if you have any comments, or if you want to tell me about a time you revisited some media, and whether or not you still loved it afterwards, you can email me at willyoustillloveit@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you.
Lastly, please join us for the next main episode of Will You Still Love It Tomorrow in two weeks to hear what happens when Dave gets me to The Twilight Zone. Will I like it at all? And will Dave still love it after our discussion? I’m not sure I’m actually looking forward to finding out!
Bye for now!