Justine, the first of these four novels, makes it onto Boxall’s 1001 list. However, as Durrell contended that the entire Quartet should be regarded as a unified work of art, I resolved to read the whole thing, notwithstanding its intimidating length. I am extremely glad that I did, for it was immensely pleasurable.

The introduction in my edition by Jan Morris highlights what will likely be the most significant flaw in this work for many: it is “often ornately overwritten, sometimes to an almost comical degree.” It is impossible to dispute this, yet the key is simply to yield to the baroque prose and relish its exuberant efflorescence. I most certainly did. The plot is wonderfully convoluted and captivating, and the characters are all impeccably conveyed and frequently highly amusing (Scobie, the cross-dressing police inspector with a penchant for sailors, is particularly excellent). But every character, even the most taciturn peasant, is precisely delineated. Of course, I have never inhabited the Egypt of the 1930s and 40s and cannot attest to the accuracy of Durrell’s portrayal, but I can tell you that it feels utterly authentic. At times, I was completely immersed in, for example, the life of a Coptic landowner. And, of course, the city of Alexandria – beautiful, sordid, sultry, corrupt, menacing, and ancient – is the most splendidly depicted character of all.

There are undoubtedly flaws of pretentiousness and overblown writing, but I believe we are in on the joke. And so, despite the occasional lapses in taste, I relished this exuberant feast to such an extent that I am compelled to award five stars.

I've often thought the song 'The Year of the Cat,' by Al Stewart, was inspired by The Alexandria Quartet.

The AQ, or Justine, the first of four novels that make up the Quartet, was given to me. Along with the gift, my sister said it was the best novel she ever read. That almost made me hate the book before I read it, but I had to read it.

So began my Durrell period.

Each novel, Justine, Balthazar, Montolive, and Clea, is written in a sleepy, detached prose that drips with poetic beauty.

Early in Justine, the author describes a scene where Justine is at a dressmaker in Alexandria, Egypt. As she sits on a stool and looks at four different mirrors, each offering a slightly different view of her, she comments that if she were an author, she would write books that showed the different'sides' of a person. And that is exactly what Durrell does with each book. He paints the same tale, a love story, from the viewpoint of one of the characters.

By doing so, he has created what can be described as a pyramid of the story, with its four sides.

It is a truly magical read, widely considered one of the most important literary works of the previous century. The Alexandria Quartet takes readers on a journey through the complex lives and relationships of its characters, offering a unique and captivating perspective on love, loss, and the human condition.

\\n  \\"At first we seek to supplement the emptiness of our individuality through love, and for a brief moment enjoy the illusion of completeness. But it is only an illusion. For this strange creature, which we thought would join us to the body of the world, succeeds at last in separating us most thoroughly from it. Love joins and then divides. How else would we be growing?\\"\\n

During my first term studying Literature, I learned that Durrell's The Alexandria Quartet was a must-read for an aspiring writer like me. So, I decided to give it a try. After nearly two months of intense reading, I'm finally done, and I'm shocked by this remarkable work.

Perhaps this will be my longest review ever, as Durrell's work consists of four novels compiled in one book. The magic of this series lies in how the first three volumes – Justine, Balthazar, Mountolive – tell the same story from different perspectives. The author claims they aren't sequels but rather novels that complement each other and reach a conclusion in the final book, Clea. Like a music quartet, the four members of this tetralogy don't play in perfect harmony. Even if you think you know the story, as you keep reading, you realize that what the first narrator told you isn't true, and neither is what the second narrator said. Basically, you're never sure what's really going on in the lives of the characters.

Since the novels are independent works, I'll write a brief review of each one.

\\n  Justine\\n

An unnamed narrator recalls his past life in the city of Alexandria. In a vignette style, we are introduced to the city of minarets and its diverse society of natives and expatriates. One of these is the seductive and mysterious Justine, whom Durrell describes as \\"a true child of Alexandria; which is neither Greek, Syrian nor Egyptian, but a hybrid: a joint\\". She is the true essence and vivid symbol of the city. The narrator becomes involved in a romantic affair with Justine, who is married to a banker named Nessim. At the same time, Nessim becomes attracted to the narrator's ex-lover, Melissa.

This first book serves as the introduction to the entire plot of The Quartet. The writing style is so perfect and pure that one can't help but think that Durrell spent every moment carefully choosing the right word to fit in a sentence and then in a phrase. You can almost smell Justine's perfume or see Melissa's dance at the cabaret. It provides a vivid account of Alexandria before WWII.

(Perhaps the best scene in the book is the duck hunting scene.)

Rating: 4/4

\\n  Balthazar\\n

The second novel is also told from the narrator's perspective, who is named Darley at some point in this work. But this time, he has new material in his hands: the detailed account of his affair with Justine written by Balthazar, an old acquaintance from his days in Alexandria. The manuscript offers a new perspective on the whole affair, revealing that Justine is a woman who loves to play with men and used Darley as a distraction for her main affair. Once again, Durrell's prose in Balthazar is amazing. Perhaps the scene of the carnival and the murder is my favorite moment in the entire Quartet. The game of reality and perspective played by the author in this work makes it, in my opinion, the best of the four volumes.

Rating: 4/4 (But in my opinion, the best one of the four)

\\n  Mountolive\\n

This time, Darley is gone, and the narrative voice takes an omniscient tone. The story follows David Mountolive, an English diplomat who develops a platonic affair with Leila, Nessim's mother. The plot starts several years before the first novel but then intertwines with the main actions previously told. Mountolive shows the reader how love is sometimes a matter of interest and that love can never submit to power. Perhaps this volume is the most political one, but certain parts, such as Nassim's proposal to Justine, keep the focus on Durrell's exploration of modern love. Additionally, the author's portrayals of a more traditional Egypt stand out among the conspiracy theories in this novel.

Rating: 4/4

\\n  Clea\\n

Darley returns as the narrator in a war-devastated Alexandria. This time, the story focuses on his closure of the affair with Justine and a new one with Clea, a bisexual painter who has been present for most of the Quartet. To be honest, Clea was the book that took me the most time to read. At some points, there is an obsession with Purswarden, a poet who appeared in the previous works, and his suicide is one of the main plots. At one point in the novel, I was wondering if Purswarden wasn't the main character of The Quartet (knowing Durrell, it could be or not). Darley comes to Alexandria, and to the reader, as a more mature man who doesn't let his heart make decisions in his life, as he did in the previous novels. His relationship with Clea is not as passionate as the one he had with Justine, but that's a sign that our narrator has grown with the passage of time. The climatic scene, once again, as in the first two volumes of The Quartet, is marvelous and beautifully written.
I'm not sure if I loved or hated this one, but I can surely say that it was a great way to conclude the experience in Alexandria.

Rating: 3/4

Durrell said that \\n  \\"A city becomes a world when one loves one of its inhabitants\\".\\n Love is the main theme of The Alexandria Quartet, and by the end of the book, you realize that you loved all of the inhabitants of the city, with their virtues and their flaws. But most importantly, you too were an inhabitant of that luxurious Alexandria, with its minarets, French streets, and yachts. Perhaps the story doesn't have the action a contemporary book requires, but the way Durrell manages every situation, every sentence, every character, makes this a book that every bibliophile should read at least once in their lifetime.

Justine ⭐⭐⭐

Poetry, irony, and human passions with the backdrop of the Alexandrian of Cavafy, or an Alexandria that is only nominally familiar, as we know it through the actions of the characters, surely not the "real" one. Since it is part of a tetralogy (not accidentally called the Alexandrian Quartet), I will return after reading the next three. Until then: despite the obvious virtues of the author, Justine leaves something to be desired (as will be given later), there is something incomplete in its creative part (the plot is not an issue, or at least not here). Despite the images it creates, despite the characters it sketches and the beautiful language, even with the humor that seasons the work, something is lacking or awry, perhaps it could still be the forthcoming prose that initially draws you into the book...

Balthazar ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Either things are better in relation to Justine, or I started to get used to the style of Durrell, where the plot is rather a pretext for the prose and the digressions. Love and passion are again present, human relationships in a decentered center.

Despite the fact that the "narrator" has emigrated and that the time of the narration is later, the events are of the same period as Justine, as the book functions complementarily to the first part and not as a continuation of it.

Next is...

Mountolive ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Love, politics, and death, always with the backdrop of Durrell's Alexandria, which is neither exactly that of the map nor exactly that of Cavafy, a poem in prose that soars above the city and the delusions of people.

Clea ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The last part of the quartet, seven years later. Darley is raising his daughter Melissa on a Greek island, but he manages to find himself in Alexandria so that war, Freudianism, and cynicism meet in the beloved city, like layers on top of a core that is always love. And the truth, as multifaceted as it can be perceived by different people. Despite the fact that the second and third books are rather the "strongest" of the quartet, the last one is surely not indifferent.

Durrell's Alexandria Quartet is a profound and lyrical exploration that delves into the essence of Einstein's Theory of Relativity.

The heart of this collection lies within 'Balthazar', where the narrator astutely remarks, 'Each person's point of view is dependant on a unique point in space and time. A few steps east or west and the whole picture is changed.'

Consequently, in the initial three books, we are presented with more or less the same events, yet from the diverse perspectives of different characters. The outcome is a distinct story each time.

With every explanation emerges a new enigma, and in 'Mountolive', the crux of the narrative transforms into a LeCarre-esque account of dilettante Palestinian terrorists, with the layers continuously unfolding and presenting delicious contradictions.

In the final novel, 'Clea', which reveals what transpired later, a character who met their demise in a previous book – I shall refrain from spoiling it by disclosing who or which one – reappears alive and well, and engaging in the practice of alchemy.

Durrell's intention was to pen a Western rendition of 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead', of which his renowned quartet is merely a fraction. This might elucidate why much of the dialogue lacks authenticity. Often, one finds oneself pondering, 'Nobody talks like that.' However, the book is less concerned with realism than with the nature of reality itself, and its amorphous, malleable qualities.

Nonetheless, on this side of Ian Fleming, no one utilizes the landscape as effectively. James Leasor, in his thriller 'A Host of Extras', notes that Alexandria is nothing like what one would anticipate after reading Durrell. But that is beside the point. An artist is someone who showcases the world as they perceive it. I doubt I would encounter Alexandria as I would expect after having read Leasor.

Even more remarkable is the tale of how Durrell first arrived in Egypt. A Greek clairvoyant, interpreting coffee grounds in a Corfiot taverna, informed Durrell that he would soon lose everything dear to him and be dispatched to a place he would not relish, yet which would have a positive impact on the remainder of his life. Sure enough, the Second World War erupted, and Durrell was sent to Alexandria as part of the Press Corps. He discovered war-time Alexandria to be morally bankrupt, a place where adultery was as prevalent as flies. (And coming from Durrell, that is quite a statement!) The rest, of course, is literary history, but it is a testament to the man that he could write so exquisitely about a place he truly disliked.

After two long years (!), I have come to the conclusion that I must throw in the towel with this one. It is simply a matter of being honest with myself.

I have an absolute adoration for the prose. In fact, it has been the writing that has inspired my own work over the past few years, even if it has only had a subtle influence in the background.

I am captivated by the mystery of Justine. The way it shows no interest in fully informing you about what is happening is truly engaging. In this regard, it is like a great Paul Thomas Anderson film or something similar, but with the added delight of a rich (and at times comical) literary style.

However, it was with Balthazar that I felt a real connection. That book is such a fascinating addition to the unanalyzed distance of Justine. It forces you to reconsider what you already know in a truly beautiful way. It is a testament to the intimate art of personal reflection.

My entertainment came to a screeching halt with Mountolive. It suddenly became painfully clear that it was only the style, form, and feeling of the last two books that had kept me interested. I realized that I didn't even like any of the characters; I only liked how their verbose musings were creating a portrait, a special kind of sensory experience. Mountolive introduces so much plot, which, I'm sorry to say, reminded me of Ian Fleming. Clearly, that was not what I started reading this for.

So, at page 565, I am consolidating what I liked and what I didn't. I am reflecting on my reading experience.

The Alexandria Quartet can be said to be a work that, with its unique artistry, blurs the boundaries between storytelling, poetry, and philosophy. In the first volume, "Justine," Durrell, with elegance and meticulous exemplification, creates a story that seems like a complete picture of a puzzle; however, this picture is only an illusion. As one delves into the subsequent volumes, this puzzle shatters into thousands of new pieces, and each piece is reexamined and reconstructed through the eyes of different characters.

The characteristic of this narrative lies in the fact that Durrell challenges the true nature of reality by changing the perspective. Each character, with their own viewpoints, memories, and interpretations, recounts events that sometimes conflict with one another. This diversity of narratives acts like a mental stimulant that constantly shifts from one perspective to another, compelling the reader to reevaluate the meaning of events and even concepts.

It seems that Durrell's fundamental belief is this: reality is not fixed and absolute; rather, it is dependent on time, place, and the subject observing it. He expresses this idea not only through the narrative but also with a poetic language and symbols.

In this work, Alexandria is not just a city but a stage for profound explorations in different dimensions of love. Durrell views love as a complex and multifaceted force that intersects with philosophy, psychology, and even politics and history. In these narratives, love includes not only passion and union but also pain, separation, distance, and even hatred; a hatred that Durrell places on the other side of the coin of love.

Ultimately, the Alexandria Quartet is a journey into the depths of human relationships.

Imagine if the characters from books aged. The vast majority of 20th-century literature would today be the concern of elderly pensioners. The Little Prince with his grey lambs would be limping across the desert with a faded copy of the fox, Florentino Ariza from Love in the Time of Cholera would already have to have it behind him and perhaps even Oskar Matzerath would have grown a few centimetres over those years and would no longer be drumming in his tin can with such frenzy. I could somehow come to terms with all that, but if Justina, Darley, Melissa or Nessim aged, if I had to watch Clea age, and worse still if colonial Alexandria, this city of "five languages, five races, and a dozen different faiths", were to be transformed before my eyes into a modern five-million-strong metropolis, I probably would never have read Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet.

Justine, the first part of the Quartet, Durrell began writing during his Cypriot sojourn and it was published by the London publisher Faber and Faber in 1957. Balthazar and Mountolive followed a year later and Clea, the final part, in 1960. In Durrell's case, however, it is not so much four parts of one book as four storeys of it: the first three parts tell the same story, which however looks different each time depending on how much information the narrator has at his disposal. Durrell built his novel like an organic house that creaks storey by storey as it takes in ever more complex relationships of the described events. What at the beginning seemed like an intimate story of tragic love in a city that knows more than five centuries "and only demotic speech can distinguish from each other", gradually becomes almost a spy novel about the political intrigues of British diplomacy. And at the same time Durrell leaves no one in doubt that this novel is above all poetry and literary metaphysics.

Why does the reader, for example, have the feeling that all those characters, so alive, eager, sad and sometimes cruel, as if they had somehow emerged from a pack of tarot cards? And Alexandria itself, in fact the main character of the novel, is it reality, vision or dream? "Light saturated with the scent of lemons. Air full of brick dust – sweet brick dust and the smell of burning tiles moistened with water. Light wet clouds falling to the earth, which however only rarely bring rain. Everywhere jets of dusty red, dusty green, winged purple and blurred carmine. The summer air slightly impregnated with the moisture of the sea." From a religious-philosophical point of view, the Alexandria Quartet is saturated with Coptic Christianity, Islam, but also Gnosticism, and so it is no wonder that Alexandria is often captured as a city of contradictions: "princess and whore", "royal city and anus mundi", "impossible city of love and obscenity". This was well expressed by his colleague and friend Henry Miller in a letter to Durrell: "You have made her [Alexandria] immortal. She always speaks to the senses and through the senses and acts inexhaustibly – like God... Alexandria, Your Alexandria, is the whole pantheon of damned Homeric gods – who do what they do, but in the end always realize what they have done. These Homeric gods are like the blind forces of today's psyche."

Durrell dedicated almost a thousand pages to getting to the very core of his characters and to the bottom of their hearts, but some of the critics accused him of being overcomplicated, overly ornate, baroque, sometimes even senseless. Isn't that a bit too much for one novel? they asked. The unusual composition, the style so distinctive that it can be safely recognised after a few sentences, dozens of characters, the attempt to capture reality in all its aspects and aspects of aspects... The Alexandria Quartet really represents a rather opulent meal, a banquet with many courses; but it can also be looked at the other way round: most novels seem like diet matters in comparison with it.

In the 1960s, Durrell became a star of British literature and in general it was considered that the Alexandria Quartet is the type of novel that is not read, but into which one immerses oneself. In places it became the object of almost religious veneration, but that too can actually be understood: True prophecy does not speak of what will happen, but of who we are, and that is exactly what the Alexandria Quartet does. That is why Justina, Nessim, Darley or Mellissa cannot age – they are like the characters on the tarot cards, our various inner selves.

The author of the first book, Justine, has fallen deeply in love with the eponymous character, who happens to be another man's wife. This love affair becomes the inspiration for the author to pen a book about it.

Set in pre-WW2 Alexandria, the author provides a unique perspective on the group of expats, outcasts, and diplomats living or posted there as the affair with Justine intensifies, experiences setbacks, and ultimately falters.

In Balthazar, comments and notes from a minor character in the first novel offer a different and darker interpretation of the events described in the first book, revealing elements that the initial protagonist was oblivious to. Motives shift, and our perceptions change along with them.

The scope then expands to form an incredible and vibrant sequence of novels. It's like uncovering the Rosetta Stone or the Piltdown jaw (before it was exposed as a fake), or perhaps listening to Townes Van Zandt for the first time and wondering how so much time could have passed without such an experience.

For me, the path of postmodern writing has become clearer. Pieces that I didn't even realize were missing have been discovered and neatly slotted into place. (That party scene in Balthazar; the underwater swimming; Scobie's transvestitism and tragic fate! Some reviewers gripe that nothing happens in these books, but lives unfold, a war occurs, and so much more...)

I've been delving into books lately that I adored years ago.

And the Alexandria Quartet stands out among them. In fact, it consists of 4 interconnected novels that I voraciously consumed when I was 17, believing they were revealing to me all the aspects of what life would be like as I matured.

They center around a group of individuals residing in Alexandria and engaging in all kinds of activities, including a significant amount of sex and drinking.

However, upon returning to it now, I was astonished by how devoid of humor the work is. I found the first novel, Justine, to be so overly written, tiresome, and inconsequential that I simply couldn't bring myself to finish it.

And I didn't even bother with the other ones. It just goes to show how difficult it can be to recapture the essence of what one loved in one's youth!

Sometimes, the passage of time and our changing perspectives can completely transform our perception of something that once held great significance.

It's a reminder that our tastes and interpretations evolve, and what we cherished then may not hold the same allure now.

Nevertheless, it's still an interesting exercise to revisit the past and see how our understanding has shifted.

Since there are four volumes here, I will review each as I finish them.

However, I love to sense events overlapping one another, creeping over each other like wet crabs in a basket.

Justine. Who will recompense me for getting through this? I feel I ought to be compensated. At first, I was overwhelmed by the beautiful sentences. Prose that is more like poetry. But even if every sentence is a gem, or perhaps because every sentence was a gem, I couldn't get engaged by the story. If you're reading poetry, yes, you know you have to go slow, be patient, ruminate on things, of course reread them, and let them sink in. But that is for about twenty lines maybe. NOT two hundred plus pages. Alas, I lack the patience for that. I want to be that kind of reader, but I simply am not. I had to keep attempting to refocus as I read this, and my mind kept wandering. That's because there isn't a lot happening and also because Lawrence Durrell has a peculiar way of making the relationships between his characters VERY complicated. There were many DESCRIPTIONS. Many, many descriptions. But I have read that Justine is the most difficult and that Balthazar is easier. We shall see. . .

I've completed Balthazar and Mountolive. And I'm exhausted. I don't know if I can face Clea. I liked Mountolive better than the other two. It was more coherent and had more of a plot. Reading these books is like listening to someone describe a long (seemingly never-ending), confusing, muddled, knotty, impressionistic, agonizing dream. And we all know how dull THAT is. No one should ever be permitted to burden others with retelling their dreams. Unless you're paying your Jungian therapist a lot of money for it.

Why did I think these novels were going to be terse, taut, or tight? I have no idea. They are wordy and descriptive beyond belief. Can you tell it's making me grumpy?

Clea: Do you feel like this is the never-ending book review? Well, try reading the book! Eight hundred and seventy odd pages, folks. And if it seems childish that I am boasting about how many pages I've read, well, believe me, I deserve any and all accolades possible for making it through this tome. Clea seemed to be a quicker, easier read (like Mountolive). But still, I was ready for it to END. In fact, I kind of feel like I have emerged from a bad relationship. I am never one to approve of abridged versions of books, but on this one, I would suggest it. By all means, find a condensed version. You can really tell that Lawrence is a travel writer, because I think that's what he's in love with most of all: place. Alexandria, the city, he goes on and on and on about. Wow. That's a lot of prepositions. Anyway. I am ultimately giving this book three stars because that's his average. Five stars for being a fabulous, poetic, and original writer of sentences. But one or two stars for not having the discipline to rein himself in and serve the reader by creating a really fast-paced plot. The thing is the plot is good and he just weighed it down with so much excess. I'm sure he didn't care about that, because I have listened to a lecture he gave on this book back in the seventies and he wasn't even comfortable calling it a novel. It's experimental, of course.

Now for some quotes:

“It takes a lot of energy and a lot of neurosis to write a novel. If you were really sensible, you'd do something else.”
― Lawrence Durrell

“Very few people realise that sex is a psychic and not a physical act. The clumsy coupling of human beings is simply a biological paraphrase of this truth - a primitive method of introducing minds to each other, engaging them. But most people are stuck in the physical aspect, unaware of the poetic rapport which it so clumsily tries to teach.”

“The steward, according to custom, had stopped all the clocks. This, in the language of Narouz, said, \\"Your stay with us is so brief, let us not be reminded of the flight of the hours. God made eternity. Let us escape from the despotism of time altogether.\\" These ancient and hereditary politenesses filled Nessim with emotion.”

“Life is more complicated than we think, yet far simpler than anyone dares to imagine”

He loved the desert because there the wind blew out one's footsteps like candle flames.

One word ‘love’ has to do service for so many different kinds of the same animal.

Balthazar sighed and said \\"Truth naked and unashamed. That's a splendid phrase. But we always see her as she seems, never as she is. Each man has his own interpretation.”

Justine is a rhythmic and rolling book that may not have a lot of plot, but it works brilliantly as a literary expose on human relationships and love. The language is sensuous, evocative, and delectable, a treat for the literary senses. In contrast to modern books that try too hard to be gritty or sexy, Justine shows how to write an atmospheric novel with an underlying exploration of sexuality without relying on cursing or vivid descriptions of sexual organs. The main criticism of Justine is the apparent lack of plot, but this is because the plot is buried within the elaborate and complex language.

Balthazar is a more difficult novel to understand than Justine due to shifts in the narrative chronology and narrator. However, these changes also make it a stronger novel as they allow the reader to observe the complexity of love and relationships. Durrell's skills as a wordsmith and stylist are on full display in this novel, with phrases like "the cloying grunting intercourse of saxophones and drums" and "The dark tides of Eros, which demand full secrecy if they are to overflow the human soul..." revealing a hint of humour and earthiness in his writing. Overall, Balthazar is a five-star novel highly recommended for those who appreciate literary novels, classics, or fine prose over traditional plotting.

Mountolive is perhaps the weakest of the four novels in the Alexandria Quartet, but it still reveals the strength of the overall work. The novel takes the reader back through the narrative arc of the first two novels, unearthing new layers and details. However, the main character, David Mountolive, is less fascinating and enigmatic than the characters in the previous novels, and the encounters he has are less engaging. Despite this, the scenes with Pursewarden are some of the novel's greatest aspects.

Clea reveals the full experimental and unique nature of the Alexandria Quartet. The novel takes the reader into the future to observe the consequences of the characters' actions, and it is the most beautifully written of all the novels. The conclusion that can be drawn from Clea is that acting selfishly leads to ill gains in the future, and that love is never free. Overall, the Alexandria Quartet is a profound, serenely beautiful, and complex work of fiction that reminds the reader of Ulysses and The Great Gatsby. It is a unique work that will be remembered for years as a truly classic novel.