Talking literature with a Tolstoy is like sparring with an Ali. Banter with a scion of Russian culture is no-holds-barred. Accompanied by a team of translators and handlers, I had the privilege of pugilism with the great-great grandson of the famous writer, Leo Tolstoy.

Quite possibly the greatest writer ever, Leo penned the monumental War and Peace and the revelatory “The Death of Ivan Ilych.” Coincidentally, “Ilych” is this spring’s Big Read.

I met with Vladimir Tolstoy in the south lounge of the Illini Union; Vladimir was on the phone, and I learned that midafternoon is the best time to call back to Russia.

The aqualine Vladimir sauntered into the room and extended his hand: a new-school, Old World gentleman. We sat down to speak in green chairs around a round wooden table. He pulled up chairs for the women in our party.

I asked my questions in English. He preferred to answer in Russian and have the translators translate for me. At one point, he completed their English translation for them. I suspected that behind his intelligent, light green eyes, Vladimir knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Leo’s novels, essays, journalism and philosophy resonate today as much as they did 100 years ago, he said. When themes of life and death touch the genius of Tolstoy, the result is timeless. “Ilych” serves as a tremendous memento mori, reminding the reader that he too shall die, so he must live.

Leo led a turbulent life, one which included a breakdown (often called the “crisis”) and conversion to Christianity. “Ilych” was written after the crisis. At one time, Leo thought his efforts were in vain, that he was not writing for the ages.

“A writer should only write when he takes a piece of his heart and puts it in the inkstand,” Vladimir said, echoing Leo. “You must write as if your child’s life depended on it.”

Leo felt a great ethical and aesthetic responsibility in his writing. This was not just posturing; he bore a great weight. Vladimir said his great-great-grandfather was not the best to his family.

“To see how he acted with his family and friends, we cannot judge him with the same approach as other people. It’s a very personal question,” he said.

There is a trend to trivialize artists because of their personal lives. At times, he was a poor husband to his wife, Sophie, Vladimir’s great-great-grandmother, but that is separate from the artist.

“I can disagree with him as a person,” Vladimir said. “I love him, I love her.”

The posturing of some current trends leaves Vladimir unsatisfied. “Postmodernism is a game,” he said. “You might find it interesting, but there is nothing that gets into your soul and stays there.”

Great writing, Vladimir said, is that which touches the reader’s soul.

“This is how the immortal literature differs from everyday pulp reading, which doesn’t have those hooks that make the reader fall in love with Natasha Rostova,” he said. “Sometimes Tolstoy catches you and pulls you into the text.”