". . . adversity presents itself in many forms; and that if a man does not master his circumstances then he is bound to be mastered by them."

Well, that certainly lived up to its hype. An almost living, breathing story within, A Gentleman in Moscow tells the contained life of Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov, now a former person, who is ordered to remain under house arrest within the confines of the Metropol, a grand hotel in Moscow across the street from the Kremlin. If he leaves the hotel at any time, he will be shot.

Beginning Count Rostov's tale in 1922, near the end of the Russian Revolution (1917 – 1923), when he is thirty years old means that Rostov becomes an outsider (from within) to witness an explosively tumultuous time in Russian history from the cage of his luxury hotel. This gives the reader an interestingly mirrored perspective. But instead of bringing a constant flow of evidence to Count Rostov, we — like he — must wait patiently for the indication of change to find him and experience the interpretation of such. It's an interesting notion, and one that Towles executes perfectly, with a perpetually changing country despite the static aspect of the main character's location.

Another aspect of the setting I adored was the sly about-face Towles dealt by dethroning the typical blue-filtered, perpetually icy idea of Russia (snow and fur caps with fur-lined coats below) and instead landed the reader and his characters squarely in the warm, toasty, welcoming interiors of a top-notch hotel.

"These hotels were built . . . so that when they traveled to a foreign city, they would find themselves very much at home and in the company of kin."

At first I thought this was a slow burn of a novel. But it's actually not. Instead this slowness at the beginning is a mirror of Count Rostov — as is the rest of the book — and it ebbs and flows, organically synced. Told from an empyreal third-person narration, Towles managed to get his story pacing in tune with the mood of his main character so much that Rostov's natural ups and downs fully dictated the engagement level of the story and the reader's mood. For instance, either intentionally or not, when Rostov is mired down with no direction and in total despair for his future, I was simultaneously wondering about the future of the novel — not because I believed he would no longer be in it, but because I wasn't sure it mattered to me. And then later, when he gets an unexpected companion who is an absolute breath of fresh air for him — so was she for the tone and pacing of the story, as well.

"By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration—and our unwavering determination to withhold our opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour."

Such a tightly contained setting deserves an equally controlled, but plush and full, cast of characters. There were old friends visiting on occasion, new friends who came and went, and stalwart employees of the Metropol who all enrich and strengthen Rostov's own life in the book and the character of him for the reader. The Count himself was wonderfully sketched, painted, and varnished — vibrant with life. One of my favorite little tidbits that quietly sneaks in as the novel progresses and his age increases, is the morning routine's tweaks — a steady decrease in the number of squats, stretches, and deep breaths he manages before his coffee. And Towles has filled the book with little tweaks — the little things that make us human, that follow us around as we go about our decades together.

"These are the greatest of conveniences . . . and at one time, I had them all. But in the end, it has been the inconveniences that have mattered to me most."

Constantly throughout A Gentleman in Moscow, the writing style and methods Towles employs brings to mind a mirror or sets of mirrors for that matter. This novel is so reflective — it captures (figurative) light, it is thoughtful and deep, it makes use of small instances inside the hotel to reflect a greater change outside. And it's that overall transformation that is key here. Towles does not simply paint a still-life image and mount it in a frame — he adds depth, interest, and light with dark for a wonderfully balanced story about a man in a gilded cage — who does indeed master his circumstances.