In-Group Conks Out

I must admit that I have not delved into "Justine", the initial novel of Durrell's renowned Alexandria Quartet. Perhaps had I begun from the very start, my impression might have been more favorable. Nevertheless, I firmly believe that BALTHAZAR can hold its own as a novel, even though a reader would likely be better served by perusing all four in sequence. Durrell's writing is truly fabulous. The lemon-scented, mauve, and pearly Alexandria, with the white stalks of its minarets, "the town that breaks open at sunset like a rose"; the beggars beside the Rolls Royces, the human flotsam of the Mediterranean, the tawdry revels of the Christian carnival - all these appear so pleasingly haunting and decrepit.

Durrell's novel is replete with "wisdom" - perhaps a lifetime's worth of epigrams on every conceivable subject, amassed by the author over the years as he conceived them on sleepless nights or jotted them down upon hearing them at the cafes and salons of the Middle East. To paraphrase the author, "reading joins you to a work, then divides you". I eagerly plunged into BALTHAZAR, hoping for an engaging read, but emerged feeling worse off. I felt as if I had been presented with a plate of decadence and cynicism, and, not wishing to be a coward, I took several bites. However, I did not relish the taste. What I felt most acutely was that I was an outsider, the observer of a clique or in-group. The author/narrator knew, all the characters knew, but I did not know. The prose seemed deliberately designed to keep me in the dark. I had to guess or engage in self-intrigue in order to ascertain where this novel was headed and who all these people were. I did not overly enjoy this experience, although I concede that it might be precisely what some readers are seeking. I repeatedly asked myself, "Is it worth finding out? Do you truly care? Or are these just a bunch of people hopelessly mired in jealousy, perversion, sex, and substance abuse, who value infidelity above all? Is this what the author deems as ordinary life? Why should I strive to discover who really loved or cared about whom?" I ultimately concluded that it did not matter much to me.

The group disintegrated through death, anger, jealousy, and fatigue. BALTHAZAR chronicles the collapse of this insular little society within colonial Alexandria, before the tides of nationalism forever submerged its international, "Levantine" character. If you admire style, elliptical narrative, and skillful description interspersed with epigrams, this could potentially be a five-star novel. But it is not for me.

One thing that slightly grated on me about Baltazar was the narrative, or rather, its lack of persuasiveness. Darel's idea of applying relativity (albeit a bit layman) to the structure of the quartet is interesting – in a way, each subsequent part is a rereading of the same novel, but with different prior knowledge – but at the same time it also introduces doubt in the authenticity of the writing, especially when the characteristic first person from Justine is often replaced by the third person of some uninteresting character there (e.g. Nesi's brother). Add to that the fact that I was expecting more hermeticism, and it is still a good novel that stands very, very well on its own – but in the context of the continuation of Justine, that is, the quartet as a whole, it is slightly lacking.

However, despite these minor flaws, Baltazar still has many redeeming qualities. The characters are well-developed and complex, and the story is engaging and thought-provoking. The author's use of language is also quite skillful, creating a vivid and immersive world for the reader.

Overall, while Baltazar may not be a perfect novel, it is still a worthy addition to the quartet and a great read in its own right. It will leave readers with much to think about and discuss, and is sure to be enjoyed by fans of literary fiction.

The story remains atmospheric, and in some parts, it even borders on the phantasmagorical. However, for me, there is an undeniable sense that it lacks the same depth and substance as the first book. The vivid descriptions and imaginative settings are still present, creating a captivating world that draws the reader in. But as I delved deeper into the narrative, I found myself longing for more. There were moments when the plot seemed to meander, lacking a clear direction or purpose. The characters, while interesting, didn't quite have the same complexity and development as those in the previous installment. Overall, while it has its merits, this book没能达到第一本书给我的那种震撼和满足。

The parts where it tells about Nessim's journey to see his family and, above all, the part centered on the carnival are among the best things I have read in a long time.

Nessim's anticipation and excitement as he embarks on this journey are palpable. The descriptions of the places he passes through and the people he meets add depth and vividness to the story.

And when it comes to the carnival, it's a whole new level of精彩. The colors, the sounds, the energy - it all comes alive on the page. I found myself completely immersed in the festivities, as if I were there with Nessim.

I can't wait to see what the third part has in store. I'm sure it will be just as amazing as the first two.

When it comes to work life, we, who act so stupidly and thoughtlessly, are silenced like lions when we talk about the universe.

This statement makes us stop and think. In the hustle and bustle of work, we often get caught up in the daily grind and forget to look beyond. We may be so focused on our tasks and goals that we lose sight of the bigger picture.

However, when we take a moment to reflect and consider the vastness of the universe, our problems and concerns seem small in comparison. It is important to remember that there is more to life than just work. We should strive to find a balance between our professional and personal lives and take the time to appreciate the beauty and wonder of the world around us.

Let us all take a moment to be silent and reflect on our place in the universe.

Our perception of reality is not determined by our personalities as we might prefer to believe, but rather by our position in space and time, as Lawrence Durrell so astutely observed in "Balthazar". In the second book of the Alexandria Quartet, Durrell enriches the story by adding another voice and perspective. He shatters Darley's private Alexandria and expands the narrative to incorporate Balthazar's viewpoints. Darley sends Balthazar the manuscript of Book 1, and Book 2 revisits some of the same events, with missing details, new additions, contradictions, and discoveries. Balthazar gives Darley his loose-leafed Inter-Linear of Book 1, and Darley is now raising Melissa and Nassim's daughter on a small Greek island near Smyrna (modern-day Izmir). I absolutely loved this second book. The language is so captivating that it pulled me through page after page. I was almost tempted to lick the pages to get a better sense of Alexandria. The Carnival scene was intense, reminiscent of a combination of "Eyes Wide Shut" and a William Burroughs trip. I also adored the desert/farm section with Nassim, his harelip brother Narouz, and their mother Leila. Finally, I relished every scene and line from author Pursewarden, who seems to be modeled on a combination of Henry Miller and Wyndham Lewis.

This is the second volume of Lawrence Durrell's "Alexandria Quartet." He refers to it not as a sequel to Justine but as a sibling. Balthazar, the mystic philosopher in Justine, brought many of the characters together for regular meetings to study the Cabal and other writings.

In this version of the story, which is mostly a letter from Balthazar to the writer of both novels, new insights are provided into the relationships among the characters. I found it more accessible and captivating than Justine. Durrell continues to write poetically about the beauties, mysteries, and dark sides of Alexandria. However, the situations that were puzzling in the first novel now become clearer. The tale acquires a sense of intrigue, both politically and personally. The reader begins to realize that there was far more happening than just a simple love affair between the author and Justine.

Durrell himself has a magnificent intellectual and artistic plan at work in the quartet. In these days when novels are often treated as mere commodities, his approach seems almost overly precious. Reading him now offers a glimpse into past literary endeavors and makes me aware of how much things have changed. It even evokes a touch of nostalgia in me. But, as Durrell contends, time is relative and there is no turning back. There is only the continuum.

Simply the saddest, most beautiful re-telling of the events covered in Justine, yet with a richness that enhances the previous book and surpasses it. It is a literary masterpiece that delves deep into the human experience.

It's full of charm and musings on love, loss, life and the familiar yet painful uncovering of news that you didn't want to hear. The author skillfully weaves these themes together, adding a depth and complexity to the overall narrative of the Quartet that builds an excitement about the coming two volumes.

Now that I've finished the second book of the Quartet on my second reading, I'm overjoyed that I'm only half way through the complete work. Durrell has achieved something rare - the fine balance between exciting the reader to want to turn the pages quickly with the lingering desire to take it slow and enjoy every word, sensation and image.

Perhaps a short quote from near the end of the volume will sufficiently convey all of these points. Clea, a painter and also the character of which the final volume is named, writing in a letter to the original narrator, Darley: "'For us, the living, the problem is of a totally different order: how to harness time in the cultivation of a style of heart - something like that? I am only trying to express it. Not to force time, as the weak do, for that spells self-injury and dismay, but to harness its rhythms and put them to our own use. Pursewarden used to say: 'God give us artists resolution and tact'; to which I myself would say a very hearty Amen."

I first read Lawrence Durrell's The Alexandria Quartet not long after arriving in Southern California in the late 1960s.

In fact, I vividly remember reading it on the beach in Santa Monica. The warm sand beneath my feet, the gentle lapping of the waves, and the soft breeze in the air provided the perfect backdrop for delving into Durrell's captivating world.

Durrell's exploration of the varieties of love and sexual longing made a distinct and lasting impression on me.

Balthazar, the second novel of the Quartet, acts as a gloss on the first volume (Justine), subtly correcting the narrator's perception of the various characters.

The narrator, Lawrence G. Durrell himself, is affectionately nicknamed Lineaments of Gratified Desire by his writer friend Pursewarden. The plot unfolds in the shape of a spiral, as we are drawn into following the narrator's friend Balthazar's \\"interlinear\\" (commentary) on the earlier volume.

Included in this installment are the deaths of several characters from Justine, including the tragic ends of Pursewarden, Scobie, and Toto de Brunel, adding an element of drama and finality to the story.

Overall, The Alexandria Quartet is a literary masterpiece that continues to captivate readers with its rich themes, complex characters, and beautiful prose.

Even more enjoyable than the first volume, this installment is truly excellent on its own. It stands out not only for its individual merits but also as a remarkable counterpoint or re-interpretation of Justine. The development of the characters is a delight to witness. As the story progresses, they grow and evolve in ways that keep the reader engaged and invested. The wonderful prose adds another layer of charm to the narrative. It flows smoothly, painting vivid pictures in the reader's mind and enhancing the overall reading experience. Rounding up slightly to 5 stars, this book is definitely a must-read and comes highly recommended. Whether you're a fan of the first volume or new to the series, you're sure to find something to love in this captivating work.

I'm beginning to think Durrell is one of the great writers of the 20th century. Truly, the writing is simply incredible. It's like music dancing on the page.

For instance, he describes an Arab woman making his bed, beating the pillows till they fluff out like the white of an egg under a whisk. George Steiner called this style "Baroque." Durrell said that the second two novels in the quartet weren't sequels in the traditional sense as that implies a linear relationship in time. Instead, they are like siblings. He further clarifies that the fourth novel is a legitimate sequel. Once you start delving into Balthazar, you understand his point. Time here is not linear. We not only encounter the same characters from Justine but also some of the same events. Just like in baroque or classical music, there is the introduction of themes, their development, and then their recapitulation. There are repeats and codas. Or, as Balthazar writes to the narrator, his manuscript could be seen as "some medieval palimpsest where different sorts of truth are layered one upon the other, the one perhaps obliterating or supplementing another." Someone, perhaps Darley, writes, "perhaps buried in all this there lies the germ and substance of a truth - time's usufruct." Although I've only read half of the Quartet at this stage, I sense an analogy emerging - to the Gospels - the same stories told in four different ways by four people. However, in Durrell's case, we have one common narrator, Darley. So here we have "the Gospel of Balthazar" or as Darley calls it, "Balthazar's Interlinear."

Durrell intended the Alexandria Quartet to be an exploration of "modern love," and it's fascinating that he chose to set it in this ancient city. Alexandria is described by Balthazar as "a city at once sacred and profane," and the narrator grapples with trying to "give a coherent picture of this impossible city of love and obscenity." What exactly is modern love? Well, there's a great deal of promiscuity. People swap partners freely. There's hetero and homosexuality. People fall in love with prostitutes. People of different religions and races come together. The young embrace the very old passionately. Sexual perversions are rampant.

There are moments in the novel that truly shock you. Such as when the young landowner Narouz, while riding horseback across his family's country estate with his brother, stops to pull a human head out of a bag and toss it into a body of water. That head had once belonged to a Bedouin who had been causing labor troubles. Other moments are hilarious, like a parrot that recites parts of the Koran interspersed with fart noises. Or there are surreal moments, like the circumcision booth set up at the local festival, where unsuspecting teen boys leaning back in the barber's chair hardly realize what's happening to them until they feel the knife.

This novel is a complex and captivating exploration of love, time, and the human condition in a unique and ancient setting. It keeps the reader engaged and constantly surprises with its vivid descriptions and unexpected plot twists.

I am truly disappointed with this, and unfortunately, I am also bored. I recently completed "Mountolive", the third book in this series that I actually enjoyed. I'm not sure if the issue I'm having with "Balthazar" is because I haven't read "Justine", which is the first book in this series of four. The reason I didn't buy it was the extremely high cost, and I'll have to order it online. However, I do have "Clea", and if I enjoy this last book in Durrell's quartet, I will feel compelled to dig deep and splurge on "Justine".

So, I will attempt to identify, at least for myself, the problem(s) with "Balthazar". The main narrator is Darley, about whom I know practically nothing. I could list his main points on one hand. He has retired to a small Greek island, presumably to write his next book. I'm guessing that Darley is the author of "Justine" as the book exists both in the fictional world and our real world. And Balthazar, the doctor, scholar, and mystic, visits him, a surprise visit to the remote island, and gives him a large sheaf of papers on which he has recorded his observations, conversations, thoughts, and pronouncements, etc., on the same group of friends, Alexandrians that both he and Darley know. But this book is not really Balthazar's story. Yes, we are encouraged to believe that he has supplied most of the material, but still, Darley is our main narrator. It is his thoughts, experiences, and concerns that predominate in trying to capture the recent events of their lives in Egypt. And this, I think, is the main problem. I still don't know who Darley is. Yes, I gleaned some information from "Mountolive" about him, a lecturer in literature, a teacher. He meets Justine through his lecture on Cavafy, becomes Justine's lover temporarily, and treats Melissa badly, the cabaret dancer who is dying of TB. We do know that Darley has taken Melissa's child, an act of guilt/contrition, to bring her up as his own on the Greek island, but we also know that the child has been fathered by Nessim Hosnani. Hosnani, embarrassed by his connection with Melissa, had asked Balthazar to perform an abortion, which Balthazar refuses to do on account of Melissa's ill health.

So we hear about the same characters from "Mountolive", except that in "Mountolive" everything is clearly from his perspective, and we know who he is: his background, his position and status, his past relationship with Leila, who is the mother of Nessim and Narouz Hosnani. We hear about his life at the embassy and how he knows the other characters, in particular Justine, Nessim, and Pursewarden. Some of the minor characters such as Scobie, Pombal, Clea, Balthazar, and Darley figure vaguely around Mountolive's narrative. But I enjoyed this book. I liked the descriptions of Egypt, of the great lake Mareotis with its birds, fish, and secret marshes, etc.

I enjoyed "Mountolive" because I could see and understand how he felt about the events affecting the people around him. The people he cared about, he was devastated by Pursewarden's death, knowing that he is implicated in the events leading to it. He cares deeply about Nessim and Leila, and we know why. We know his long history with them. We connect with the events that disturb and affect Mountolive because quite simply we understand who he is.

The problem with Darley's story is that although he recounts several unfortunate deaths and several tragic events concerning the same characters, there is no emotional engagement. In this book, the narrative is quite often switched around so that sometimes we hear Justine's thoughts, or sometimes Balthazar's, and most enjoyably, there are quotes from Pursewarden, which fill in his mysterious character. We have first-hand accounts of some of Narouz's experiences, how he forces a Malzub to reveal the circumstances of the disappearance of Justine's child, but again, we feel nothing. These stories are brief, and just as we feel we could connect with the feelings or the experiences of each different character, we are switched to yet another scene, another event in Alexandria.

The writing is uneven, meaning there are some terrible long-winded passages, but the story of the Cervonis' ball during the Carnival season is one of the more interesting. We follow Darley in his long domino cloak, trying desperately to locate Justine by the ring on her finger, but he eventually gives up and leaves. We know, however, that this party is amounting to a climax in the book. There is a murder. Justine is somehow involved. There is a telephone call from Clea, strange and odd in the middle of the ball, anxious to talk with her friend. But Darley has left and instead thwarts our patience with a tedious description of the harbour.

So just as the plot begins to quicken the pace and interest of this no-plot story, Durrell plays it down with his slow descriptions. He is experimenting. He doesn't want any one particular voice to dominate. He is trying to get away from the one-person linear narrative in an attempt to make us understand the complexity of the whole. If we focus on a particular character's perception, we understand only how they have constructed the world around them, and Durrell is attempting to show how this is a limiting and narrow perspective. But in doing so, he has sacrificed the personal. I think it was also on trend to show himself as a Modernist, to break from his voice, his authorial control, and to "hide" or rather encourage the truthfulness of polyphony, to allow other perspectives to dominate so that Darley's/Durrell's interpretation does not dominate. Of course, this is difficult to render convincingly because it IS Durrell's creation, every line, word, and comma, etc.

It is the personal, however, which drives forward the novel. And it is the reader's identification with one or more characters that holds our interest. If we are stirred, drawn in emotionally, we want to know what happens. But in the case of "Balthazar", I was repeatedly disconnected from understanding any one character "completely" or at least as well as I could, and I could not care about any of them. For example, Scobie, the old cross-dressing policeman, he is beaten to death. Another character about whom I understood very little, Capodistria, or Da Capo for short, also dies. Toto de Brunel, accidentally murdered by Narouz thinking it is Justine, and yet we never understand why Narouz should be driven to such extremes. There is no engagement, we are left cold. Yes, we can see the multiple interlinking of all these different people and events, all connected by the social intercourse and location of Alexandria, a particular time, a particular place, but I was bored.