The prolific Victorian translator who first brought most of the Russian canon into English.
The version that made Tolstoy an English author. Garnett is smooth, warm, and fast, smoothing Tolstoy’s deliberate roughness into graceful Victorian prose. Purists complain that she irons out the strangeness and occasionally nods, but generations fell in love with the Russians through her, and she remains a pleasure to read. Being public domain, she is also free and everywhere. Choose Garnett if readability and price matter more than capturing every wrinkle of the original.
The version that made Anna Karenina an English novel. Garnett is warm, smooth, and quick, and for most of the twentieth century she was simply how English readers met Tolstoy. She tidies some of his deliberate repetition into graceful Victorian prose and occasionally nods, which is the standard knock on her, but the storytelling never flags and the great scenes land with full force. Being public domain, she is also free and everywhere, the text behind countless cheap paperbacks and e-books. Later hands (Kent and Berberova) lightly revised her. Choose Garnett if you want a dependable, readable Anna at no cost and do not mind that a little of Tolstoy’s strangeness has been ironed flat.
The version that introduced Raskolnikov to the English-speaking world, and still a perfectly serviceable free one. Garnett is clear, brisk, and readable, and she keeps the story hurtling forward, which matters in a book that lives on suspense and dread. The usual criticism applies: she smooths Dostoevsky’s deliberately ragged, feverish prose into more even Edwardian English and softens some of the strangeness of his voice. But generations first felt the novel’s grip through her, and being public domain she is free and everywhere. Choose Garnett if you want a dependable, fast Crime and Punishment at no cost, and are willing to trade a little of the delirium for smoothness.
The version that made The Brothers Karamazov a landmark in English, and still a readable free one. Garnett is clear and warm, and she carries the huge, sprawling book along at a good pace, which matters when a novel this long asks so much of a reader. The familiar knock is that she flattens Dostoevsky’s many distinct voices toward a single even Edwardian register and softens his feverish, ragged edges, so the buffoon and the saint can sound a little alike. But for a century this was the Karamazov English readers knew, and being public domain it is free and everywhere. A dependable, no-cost way in, if you accept some smoothing of the voices.