Tolstoy, a great man born in 19th-century Russia
A modern-day Iliad about history and life, heroes and the people, power and sublimity.
A striking portrait of young people growing through love.
The four-volume set of "War and Peace" has been published.

『War and Peace』 by Leo Tolstoy, a representative Russian author, has been published in Minumsa's World Literature Collection.
Yeon Jin-hee, who created a new readership for Russian classics by displaying a youthful and delicate sensibility through 'Anna Karenina', was in charge of the translation.
This work is Tolstoy's representative work, depicting the providence of nature and human history against the backdrop of the vast space of Russia over a period of approximately 15 years from 1805 to 1820.


With a total of 559 characters, the vast narrative entangled in a great war is not only imbued with a natural rhythm, but also the cold gaze that looks down on the fate of humanity on the bloody battlefield creates an epic grandeur comparable to that of the Iliad.
The story of Andrei, the ruthless nihilist, Pierre, the wealthy and dissolute heir, and Natasha, who falls into fatal temptation, overcoming their own trials and discovering their own 'cosmic selves' is not only a story of individual growth, but also a coming-of-age novel of Russia itself, a story of realizing great potential through war and shame.


▶ The Iliad, the most extensive epic poem of our time and a modern-day version.
- Romain Rolland
▶ Tolstoy is the greatest novelist of all novelists.
What other name can one give to the author of War and Peace? - Virginia Woolf
▶ As we continue to read this grand novel, depicting both wars, we are struck by the novel's achievement of totality, and are astonished that a mere 'individual' can ultimately express the 'whole' in this way.
- Kenzaburo Oe

Just as the little duchess arrived, a stout, fat man entered.
(…) In fact, Pierre was a little bigger than the other men in the drawing room, but the fear was probably only due to that intelligent yet timid, sharp yet natural gaze that made him different from everyone else in the drawing room.
---From "Volume 1, Part 1, Chapter 2"

Natasha, sitting across from him, was looking at Boris with the same expression a thirteen-year-old girl might have when looking at a boy she'd just kissed and fallen in love with.
The gaze would occasionally turn to Pierre.
Whenever he caught the eye of this fun and lively girl, he felt like smiling for no reason.
---From "Volume 1, Part 1, Chapter 15"

While the twos took their places and the musicians played in unison, Pierre sat down next to the little lady.
Natasha was beyond happy.
Dancing with an adult, and a man who just returned from abroad.
She sat in front of everyone and talked to him like an adult.
---From "Volume 1, Part 1, Chapter 17"

“Well, it’s goodbye!” He said, making his son kiss his hand and hugging him.
“Remember one thing, Prince Andrey.
“If you die, I, this old man, will suffer.” He fell into an unexpected silence, then suddenly spoke in a high, shrill voice.
“But if I find out that you have not behaved properly as the son of Nikolai Bolkonsky, I will be... ashamed!” he cried sharply.
---From "Volume 1, Part 1, Chapter 25"

At this moment, all the interests that had occupied Napoleon seemed utterly pathetic to him.
Compared to the high, fair, and good heavens he had seen and come to understand, his hero, with his low vanity and joy in victory, seemed so pathetic.
---From "Volume 1, Part 3, Chapter 19"

“Sonya! Sonya!” The first voice was heard again.
"Oh, how can you sleep! Look at how beautiful you are! Oh, how beautiful you are! Open your eyes, Sonya," she said, her voice almost tearful.
“Truly, there has never been such a beautiful night, not even once.” ---From “Volume 2, Part 3, Chapter 3”

Natasha returned home and couldn't sleep all night.
Who was it she loved, Anatol or Prince Andrei? This unsolvable question tormented her.
She loved Prince Andrey.
I remembered clearly how passionately I loved him.
But Anatole loved her too.
---From "Volume 2, Part 5, Chapter 13"

The horrifying sight of the battlefield that day overwhelmed the mental strength he had always considered his own strength and greatness.
(…) Napoleon sat in his folding chair with his eyes downcast, listening to the sound of the cannons without realizing it, with his face yellow and swollen, looking miserable, his eyes clouded, his nose red, and his voice cracking.
He waited for the battle to end in a morbid melancholy.
---From "Volume 3, Part 2, Chapter 38"

The Countess was terrified at the thought that Prince Andrei might die in his daughter's arms on the journey (which, according to the doctors, was very likely), but she could not object to Natasha.
(…) The unresolved question of life and death, which hung over not only Bolkonsky but all of Russia, obscured all other predictions.
---From "Volume 3, Part 3, Chapter 32"

But the peaceful and glamorous life of Petersburg, concerned only with the illusion of life and its shadows, continued as before.
In this flow of life, it took a lot of effort to recognize the difficult situation and crisis that the Russian people were facing.
---From "Volume 4, Part 1, Chapter 1"

No one, watching the burning of Moscow, swore revenge on the French.
They were just thinking about their next paycheck, their next camp, and the matryoshka dolls from the military commissary.
---From "Volume 4, Part 1, Chapter 4"

“Brothers! Look here!” cried the old soldiers, weeping and embracing the Cossacks and light cavalry.
Light cavalry and Cossacks surrounded the prisoners and hurriedly offered some clothes, some boots, and some bread.
Pierre sat among them and sobbed.
I couldn't utter a single word.
He hugged the first soldier who approached him and kissed him while crying.
---From "Volume 4, Part 3, Chapter 15"

Freedom, the full and absolute freedom given to man by nature, a freedom he had first realized in his life at his first rest stop after leaving Moscow, filled Pierre's soul during his convalescence.
---From "Volume 4, Part 4, Chapter 12"

Pierre's madness was not that he waited for a personal motive—what he called human virtue—to love someone, as he had done before, but that love filled his heart so that he loved someone without reason and found a clear motive for loving them.

---From "Volume 4, Part 4, Chapter 19"