Here's what this book is all about.

Four individuals are gathered around in a house located in Italy. As they sit there, memories start to flood back to them. They recall various events, emotions, and experiences that have shaped their lives.

However, as time passes, they realize that it is time for them to go their separate ways. Each person has their own path to follow, their own dreams to pursue.

If you happen to be someone who doesn't quite like your eyes, perhaps this book can offer you a unique perspective. It might help you see things in a different light, or maybe even inspire you to look at the world in a new way.

So, if you're looking for a story that is both thought-provoking and engaging, give this book a try. You might just be surprised by what you discover.

The author shares a personal experience of how music, specifically "Honeysuckle Rose" by Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli with the Hot Club of France from 1935 - 1937, can save one after arid writing. The side note elaborates on the power of music to help individuals focus, rejuvenate, and resuscitate regardless of their creative medium. The author also mentions attending a concert by Grappelli in the early 1980s in Vancouver and being spellbound by his "gypsy jazz" or "manouche jazz" style.

The novel being discussed is set during the middle to late 1930s and early to middle 1940s, a time of great change and the lead-up to World War II. The author reflects on how war doesn't have a clear beginning or end, similar to a game of chess. The novel is romantic in two senses: it contains love stories and follows the romanticism sensibilities of individualism, strong emotion, and exploring the past with a combination of idealism and bitter reality. Some characters find the convergence point between these two aspects.
The story is heart-rending yet laced with hope, and the writing is sublime, with the poetic rhythms that Michael Ondaatje's prose is known for. The English Patient has won several prestigious awards, including the Man Booker prize in 1992, the Governor General's Award, and the Golden Man Booker prize this year. The author hopes the novel will continue to be read and enjoyed, and that it will serve as a cautionary tale for future generations.

\\n  “There are days when I come home from arid writing when all that can save me is ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ by Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelly performing with the Hot Club of France. 1935. 1936. 1937.”\\n

Side Note: I can understand these sentiments precisely. Whether the river of creativity expresses for an individual through the medium of words, of music, of putting together plumbing pipes, of performing intricate surgery or dance steps; no matter the form of individual creativity, music can help a person to focus, to rejuvenate, to resuscitate. Grappelly was the ‘anglicized’ version of the master violinist’s name but later, he changed it back to its original spelling: Grappelli. I was fortunate enough to attend a concert featuring Stephane Grappelli with my music agent. It was the early 1980’s and we were right in front of the barely elevated stage in a small, intimate venue in Vancouver. He played his famous style of “gypsy jazz” or “manouche jazz” and I was spellbound. /End of Side Note

\\n  “A man walks as fast as a camel. Two and a half miles an hour. If lucky he would come upon ostrich eggs. If unlucky, a sandstorm would erase everything. He walked for three days without any food . . . . . \\nMay God make safety your companion, Madox had said. Good-bye. A wave. There is God only in the desert, he wanted to acknowledge that now. Outside of this there was just trade and power, money and war. Financial and military despots shaped the world.”

It is interesting how timeless – and timely – this novel is. The characters in this novel face life-changing times during the middle to late 1930’s and early to middle 1940’s, the truest timing for the second World War. War does not begin when someone says, “We are at war.” It begins when the chess pieces are first taken out of the box and begin to be arrayed in their assigned places on the boards. Real war also doesn’t end with “checkmate”. After that point, analysis takes place, chess pieces are sometimes taken through a re-run of a particular move. When all the cogitating is done, the pieces remaining on the board still need to go home. This novel is romantic in two senses. It does have love stories within it. However, it also follows the romanticism sensibilities of individualism, strong emotion, and exploring the past with eyes that have one lens in idealism and one lens firmly grounded in bitter reality. Some of the characters in the book find the point of convergence between these two areas on the spectrum and that all of this takes place in under 300 pages astounds me.

The story in this novel is heart-rending and it is also laced with hope. The writing is sublime, with the poetic rhythms that Michael Ondaatje’s prose is noted for. The English Patient won the Man Booker prize in 1992 and the Governor General’s Award. It also won the Golden Man Booker prize this year. The prizes are well deserved and I hope this novel continues to be read and enjoyed for many years to come. I also hope that it is digested and that it will serve as a cautionary tale for future generations.

I'll be gentle on this one.

First, the sweet part: Some passages in this book are truly beautiful, as if you were witnessing warm sunsets on the beach, with colors bleeding across the sky and having someone beside you who truly understands. It creates a sense of tranquility and connection that is quite enchanting.

Now, for the bitter. Almásy, also known as the English patient, is such a quasi-highbrow windbag that I find myself rolling my eyes almost every time he speaks. And if he mentions Herodotus one more time, I might just lose it.

Also, the legion of structureless vignettes that hop back-and-forth through time with no clear rhyme or reason really infuriates me. It's in the same vein as how Faulkner's Sound and Fury frustrates me. It just seems so chaotic and lacking in a coherent narrative structure.

Just...make...SENSE already!!

So, to sum it up, this is not my favorite book of all time. But obviously, it did manage to make me feel something, whether it was annoyance or a glimmer of appreciation for the beautiful passages.

Update 5/28/24 - This book was a birthday gift from my dear friend Carrie, about a million years ago. Here's her inscription, which I take at face value (while holding fast to my own, honest review):

I found "The English Patient" to be an absolutely gorgeous, lyrical, and truly masterpiece of a book.

In the midst of the fury and mayhem of war, the lives of four individuals intersect within the oasis of calm that is provided by an abandoned villa in the Tuscan hills. All of them are damaged, some in obvious physical ways, while others by their past traumas. The strands of their stories intricately weave around the mummy-like presence of the blackened and bandaged patient of the title.

Love and war, trauma and hurt, salvation and despair are the profound themes that run through this extraordinary work. Michael Ondaatje, first and foremost a poet, brings his poetic sensibilities to his prose. I often found myself re-reading passages in the book, not due to any lack of clarity, but simply for the sheer pleasure of allowing the vivid images conjured by his few deft phrases to wash over me once more.

As an author myself, I finish reading "The English Patient" in a somewhat wistful mood, constantly wondering if I will ever be able to write with the same level of artistry and elegance as Ondaatje.

"I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you."



I had the opportunity to read this book, and while I thought it was okay, I can't say it left a lasting impression on me. I did enjoy certain aspects of it, but it's not a book that I'll cherish and choose to reread. The narrative structure of the book was a bit of a challenge for me. There was a lot of flicking between the past and the present, as well as between different characters, without a clear indication of when these shifts were happening. This made the story rather disjointed and at times, confusing. It was difficult for me to follow the thread of the narrative and fully immerse myself in the story.



However, I did appreciate the characters in the book. Hanna, a nurse, was chosen to stay behind at the hospital where she worked after World War II ended and everyone else had moved on. She was joined by the English Patient, a man with severe burns all over his body. We also meet two other characters who come to stay with them in their makeshift house. Each of the characters had a complex personality, and we get to learn about their backgrounds, what they went through during the war, and how they are dealing with the aftermath. Their stories were interesting and added depth to the overall narrative.



"Those who weep lose more energy than they lose during any other act."



Overall, I can see how this book could be a deeply affecting read for some people. The themes of war, loss, and healing are explored in a thought-provoking way. However, for me, the constant jumping between the narrative made it difficult to get fully invested in the story. I would rate this book 3 stars. It had its strengths, but it also had some weaknesses that prevented it from being a truly great read.



"People think a bomb is a mechanical object, a mechanical enemy. But you have to consider that somebody made it."

I can only envision the profound transformation that an event such as World War II can bring about in society and in an individual's personal life. Ondaatje's novel delves into those changes that were occurring during that era, especially concerning a person's identity.

In 'The English Patient', we encounter four distinct characters who are either reflecting on or竭力 not to reflect upon their past lives. The backstory of the titular character is the most captivating, while Kip's might be the most profound. Personally, I derived the greatest pleasure from Caravaggio's story (and his demeanor), although it seems his character exists merely to uncover the reason behind Hana's insistence on staying with her patient.

Ondaatje's prose once again appeals to me, as it did in his latest novel 'Warlight'. I also admire his ability to unearth the layers of his characters despite having already disclosed their fates (particularly in the case of the English Patient). From the characters to the settings to the prose, it is truly a beautiful book. I am having difficulty deciding on a rating. It is in the low 5, high 4 range, but I highly recommend it to everyone. And now I can finally watch the movie!

Unpretentious work, despite its designs, is very likable and really readable.

The inevitable movie adaptation completely altered and ruined a perfectly fine ending. As I always say, it's all about the endings.

So this became relevant again. It's funny. So funny. Some things remain like canines made up of wind from the Man who Rained, not breezing away. While others come back to you like an Imagine Dragons song. Yeah, life is weird.

We are talking about this book's ending, what an ending it was. One of the best I have ever read. For sure, one of my all-time favorite endings. It was truly poignant, resonating well with me at the time. And the moviemakers completely messed that up. By omitting and skipping right over it, they did this book a huge disservice. Oh, I get why they changed it, I do. But since they spoiled the movie for me, I'll spoil this for them, haha. SPOILERS AHEAD. You know what to do. Obviously.

There was a third protagonist, Kirpal Singh, a young sapper from India in this. Toward the end of the book, during the climax, when he heard the US had dropped two atomic bombs on Japan, he became enraged. That led to him questioning all the Europeans in his life, instantly despising them, including his lover, Hanna. He wanted to kill the "English" Patient, aiming his gun at him. Despite the fact that the Patient wasn't English and that the Patient was yelling at him to do it, he didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he said one thing that really got to me. In the quiet of that storm, he said they wouldn't use a bomb like that on a non-brown nation, or they wouldn't have used it if Japan wasn't brown. I don't know about that. But that question made me think about it really hard for the very first time.

And of course, that brings to mind that George Carlin quote. It goes something like this:

This country is only two hundred years old, and already we've had ten major wars. We average a major war every twenty years in this country. So we're good at it! And it's a good thing we are. Can't build a decent car, can't build a TV or a VCR worth a fuck. Got no steel industry left, can't educate our young people, can't get health care to our old people. But we can bomb the shit out of your country, all right! We can bomb the shit out of your country, all right! Especially if your country is full of brown people. Oh, we like that, don't we? That's our hobby! That's our new job in the world, bombing brown people. Iraq, Panama, Grenada, Libya, you got some brown people in your country, tell them to watch the fuck out or we'll goddamn bomb them! Well, when's the last white people you can remember that we bombed? Can you remember the last white people we bombed? Can you remember any white people we've ever bombed? The Germans! Those are the only ones, and that's only because they were trying to cut in on our action. They wanted to dominate the world. Bullshit, that's our fucking job! THAT'S OUR FUCKING JOB!

Makes you wonder for all of one second and then you forget all about it. There is always something else to do. An uncomfortable thing that needs to be dissected, but first it must be acknowledged.

It's weird, this book seems timely too, considering Obama's recent visit to Hiroshima and Nagasaki's sites. He didn't apologize for the bombing of course, though I don't think any sitting president can. But that's neither here nor there. It's just the whole business of what humans do to each other that's too saddening, it can be so disheartening at times. Of course, the obliteration of Tokyo was equally devastating. It's a shame we don't get to hear more about it.

Ah, this got dreary and bleak real fast. I am full of rainbow and unicorns sometimes. When I was rewriting this review last year, I wanted to make it about two girls. Instead, it became about the nuclear bombings.

Certainly, not the two bombs I originally had in mind.

The English Patient is a captivating and thought-provoking novel penned by Michael Ondaatje. It delves into the lives of four individuals whose paths intersect at the close of World War II. There's Hana, the melancholy nurse with a childlike quality. Then there's Caravaggio, the thief, both physically and emotionally damaged. Kip, the Indian bomb-disposal expert, is pensive and wary. And finally, there's the mysterious English patient, a burned and broken soul without a name.

The story unfolds around several major themes. War is a prominent one, highlighting the paradigm shift that occurs as cultures and people attempt to recover. Love is another, exploring the lengths one will go to obtain it. The search for self-identity is perhaps the most crucial theme, as Ondaatje takes readers on a transformative exploration through the multiple layering of meaning in each description.

The book is not a straightforward linear narrative. Instead, it weaves back and forth through memories, creating a tapestry of dream-like stories. Ondaatje's writing is rich and sensuous, drawing readers into a world of fantasy and self-discovery. As you read, you'll find yourself asking questions like "Who is the English Patient?" and "What is the true nature of identity?" The answers may not be immediately clear, but the journey of discovery is well worth it.

The characters in the novel are complex and multi-faceted. Hana represents the scarred and insecure child within us all, while the English patient embodies the resolve of the broken and tired. Caravaggio typifies those of us who are maimed, either physically or emotionally, and are in search of our lost identities. Kip, on the other hand, is afraid of connection and loss, constantly aware of the dangers around him.

Ondaatje's work is a powerful examination of the human condition. It forces us to question who we are and what defines us. It shows us that our identities are not fixed, but rather, they are constantly evolving. By the end of the novel, you'll have a new understanding of yourself and the world around you. The English Patient is a must-read for anyone who is interested in exploring the depths of the human psyche and the power of literature to transform our lives.

Everyone has at least one classic that they just can't seem to get along with. For me, that book was Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient.

When it comes to giving one-star reviews, I'll admit that I'm not always completely objective. But as long as I'm not anonymously trashing a book on Amazon, I figure I'm not doing too badly. Still, I'll do my best to be fair in my assessment of The English Patient.

The novel is set in an Italian villa at the end of World War II. The unnamed English patient, a severely burned invalid, brings together the other characters in strange ways: his exhausted nurse, Hana; the maimed spy/thief, Caravaggio; and the Indian sapper/bomb disarmer, Kip. There are mysteries, love triangles, and all the usual elements, but something threw me off right from the start.

Although the premise sounded interesting, I was immediately put off by a description on the first page about the English patient's penis "sleeping like a sea horse." From that moment on, I knew I wasn't going to like this book. I finished it, complaining about the dialogue and the prose, but I knew it was that sea horse penis line that was coloring my opinion. Almost a decade later, I still remember that description, and it still bothers me. I don't know why, but it does. Is it fair? Probably not, but I think I need to accept the fact that sometimes you just can't get past your own subjectivity. I could try rereading The English Patient, but I'm afraid I'd trip over that sea horse penis line again and end up in a bad mood. So, sorry, but my heavily biased review stands. One star.

The English Patient is a captivating novel that delves into the lives of its complex characters.

The story begins with a Canadian nurse, Hana, tending to a burned patient in an abandoned Italian villa at the end of World War II. The patient, who is presumably English but his identity is uncertain, refuses to leave.

Soon, other characters enter the scene. Caravaggio, a former thief and spy, arrives at the villa in search of Hana. He becomes intrigued by the English patient and is determined to uncover his true identity.

Kip, a Sikh sapper, also joins them. Drawn by the sound of the piano, he warns them of the hidden bombs left by the Germans.

The novel is filled with digressive storytelling, as the characters reveal their personal histories and the events that led them to this point. The English patient's past is particularly complex, and his tragic love story with Catherine adds another layer of depth to the narrative.

While I generally enjoyed the novel, there were a few aspects that I didn't like. Some of the passages in the English patient's monologue seemed disturbing, and the constant references to Kip's dark skin by Hana felt repetitive and inappropriate.

Overall, I would highly recommend The English Patient to those who enjoy postmodernist writing, framed narrative, anti-war prose, and complex characters. It is a thought-provoking and beautifully written novel that will stay with you long after you finish reading.

My opinion only, of course, but it goes against the mainstream!

Typically, books labeled as modern classics, which require extensive scholarly analysis to describe their literary merits and pretentious references to tools like symbolism, have never appealed to my reading preferences. Frankly, I prefer a more straightforward storyline. And the plot of Ondaatje's THE ENGLISH PATIENT, as it is, is anything but direct and clear.

Maclean's magazine called it, “One of the finest Canadian novels ever written.” However, when I closed the last page, I shrugged and asked myself “What the hell did I just read?” One might assume it was a romance of sorts set against the turmoil of the final days and the aftermath of World War II in Italy. But I couldn't find anything in Kip Singh, Caravaggio, or Hana that piqued my interest or made me think deeply about their motivations. Indeed, the only parts of the novel that saved it from being abandoned unfinished were the very engaging descriptions of the war against Rommel in North Africa, the technical details of bomb mechanics, and the thrilling account of Kip Singh's work as a bomb-disposal engineer.

One more book has been crossed off my bucket list, which had been sitting there for many years. But I can't say I would wholeheartedly recommend it to any future readers.

Paul Weiss

This book was not an easy read.

It was not a page-turner that would keep you on the edge of your seat, eager to know what happened next.

However, what it lacked in quick-paced excitement, it made up for in other aspects.

The language used in the book was truly beautiful. It was like a gentle breeze that caressed your soul as you read.

The characters were also beautifully developed. They felt so real and alive that you could almost reach out and touch them.

As you delved deeper into the story, you would find yourself being transported to a time and place that was wonderfully specific and full of life.

The book gave you a sense of the senselessness of war, the fragility of human relationships, and the frivolity of existence.

It made you think about the bigger picture and the things that truly matter in life.

For these things, I will always be grateful. It opened my eyes to a world that I may have otherwise overlooked and made me a more empathetic and understanding person.