Justine is not an easy book by any standard.

The language employed within its pages is often baroque, rich and ornate, demanding the reader's full attention.

The underlying ideas are complex and challenging, delving deep into the human psyche and the mysteries of life.

However, it is precisely these qualities that make it one of those rare, brilliant novels that manages to create an entire self-contained universe.

The lost world of multinational, pluralistic pre-war Alexandria, Egypt is vividly brought to life, with all of its mysterious romance and allure.

Durrell has a particular talent for crafting memorable minor characters.

There is Mnemjian, the kyphotic barber, with his unique personality and charm.

Capodistria, the one-eyed lecher, adds a touch of decadence and intrigue.

Clea, a celibate lesbian who paints portraits of victims of venereal disease, is a fascinating and complex character.

While Justine may not be an easy read for bedtime or the beach, it is well worth the investment of time and effort.

Incidentally, for a different take on a similar landscape, I would also suggest Andre Aciman's riveting memoir, Out of Egypt.

It offers a unique perspective on the same region and time period, adding another layer of depth and understanding to the already rich tapestry of literature set in Alexandria.

I hope this is the start of a long-term interest in this author.

I am highly impressed on every level.

At first, his style seems forced, but like a winding river, it recapitulates itself and strengthens as it progresses.

After reading much of Henry Miller, it becomes clear that their friendship has led to aesthetic similarities, aside from surface-level themes.

This work is a treasure trove of an exotic, Paul Bowles-level atmosphere, set in the crisp, dusty histori-city of Alexandria.

It is an all-around classic, with engaging scenes and free associative descriptions of eccentrics, artists, and beauties.

There are 3 more volumes to go in this epic, plus dozens of other books by this author in similar veins.

Could they all be this good?

I can't wait to find out and continue exploring the works of this fascinating author.

Dedication: To EVE these memorials of her native city

Opening: The sea is high today, with a thrilling flush of wind. In the midst of winter you can feel the inventions of spring.

Beautiful writing is going on here. It seems as if the words are dancing on the page, creating a vivid and enchanting scene. The description of the sea and the wind makes us feel as if we are standing right there, experiencing the elements. And the mention of spring in the midst of winter gives a sense of hope and renewal.

P.21 phthsic definition: 1. Variant of phthisis. 2. Archaic Any illness of the lungs or throat, such as asthma or a cough. [Middle English ptisike, from Old French ptisique, from phthisicus, consumptive, from Greek phthisikos, from phthisis, wasting away, consumption; see phthisis.

P. 64 Mouseion: A place devoted to the Muses, a place for the study of special arts and sciences.

P 67 banausic: 1. Merely mechanical; routine: serving utilitarian purposes only. 2. Of or relating to a mechanic.

P.80 ratiocinative: adj. Of, relating to, marked by, or skilled in methodical and logical reasoning.

Fort Kom el Dick

Constantine P. Cavafy (also known as Konstantin or Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis, or Kavaphes; Greek: Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης; April 29 (April 17, OS), 1863 – April 29, 1933) was a Greek poet who lived in Alexandria and worked as a journalist and civil servant. He published 154 poems; dozens more remained incomplete or in sketch form. His most important poetry was written after his fortieth birthday.

Leonard Cohen - Alexandria Leaving

Voices



Ideal and dearly beloved voices

of those who are dead

or of those who are lost to us like the dead.



Sometimes they speak to us in our dreams;

sometimes in thought the mind hears them.



And for a moment with their echo

other echos return from the first poetry of our lives-

like music that extinguishes the far off night. 

Cavafy

Summer 2013 Egyptian Encounters:

Cleopatra (1963)
3* The Mummy Curse
2* Alexandria: The Last Nights of Cleopatra
4* The Complete Valley of the Kings
1* Ancient Egypt by George Rawlinson
4* Tutankhamen: Life and death of a Pharoah
2* The Luxor Museum
3* Tutankhamen's Treasure
3* The Black Pharaoh\\\\
3* Nubian Twilight..../ complimentary reading!
4* River God
4* House of Eternity
The Egyptian (1954)
Agora (2009)
4* Justine
Death on the Nile (1978)
2* Nefer the Silent
5* The Seventh Scroll
5* The White Nile
CR An Evil Spirit out of the West
Nefertiti Resurrected
3* Warlock
Queen Pharaoh - Hatshepsut
TR: The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile and Explorations of the Nile Sources

Verdi: Aïda - San Francisco Opera (starring Luciano Pavarotti) FULL: The libretto does not specify a precise time period, so it is difficult to place the opera more specifically than the Old Kingdom. For the first production, Mariette went to great efforts to make the sets and costumes authentic. Given the consistent artistic styles through the 3000 year history of ancient Egypt, a given production does not particularly need to choose a specific time period within the larger frame of ancient Egyptian history. wiki sourced

Asterix and Cleopatra (1968) [FULL MOVIE]

03-07-2013: Egyptian army suspends constitution and removes President Morsi.

Additional reading that flows from the above, much like a great river:

TR Through the Dark Continent
Chez Tintin. Congo river rapids
TR A Popular Account of Dr. Livingstone's Expedition to the Zambesi and Its Tributaries.

The writing within this book could, at certain moments, be truly poetic. It seemed to dance on the page, with words flowing like a gentle stream.

However, overall, this literary work simply failed to resonate with my personal taste. The narrator's excessive musing and philosophizing felt a bit overwhelming to me. It was as if they were lost in a world of their own thoughts, and I struggled to find my way in.

Moreover, I simply couldn't establish a connection with the characters. They remained distant and aloof, like strangers passing by in the night. As a result, by the end of the story, I found myself completely indifferent to what befell each and every one of them.

Given these factors, I have no inclination whatsoever to continue delving into the remaining three books in this series. It feels as though this particular literary path has led me to a dead end, and I'm eager to explore other literary landscapes.

I've waited decades to read this book, it seems. It was always the one book I "meant to get to" and never did. Perhaps I waited too long.

The words are lovely. Even the sentences are beautiful. The construction is exquisite. Yet, I was left feeling as cold as ice.

There is poetry that is constructed with passion and the minute your eyes light on it, it sets you on fire. Then there is poetry that is constructed with the fine precision of a Patek Philipe and it leaves you feeling nothing. Justine left me numb. Not with beauty. Not with awe. Just numb.

How can one be bored with such a voluptuous tale? If passion is not to be found in Alexandria, then it exists not at all.

I admired the beauty, the composition, the invention -- but for me, it was like walking across the Arctic Plains: oh so beautiful, but get me out of here because I long for warmth.

I don't know whether Durrell got wrapped up in his own fabrication to such an extent that he lost the purpose of the story, or whether he was innately such a cold person, but... I need to come in from this storm.

It's truly a conundrum. I had such high expectations for this book, having heard so much about its supposed brilliance. But as I delved into its pages, I found myself increasingly disenchanted. The descriptions were indeed vivid and the language was masterfully crafted, but there was something lacking. Something that would have made my heart race and my soul soar. Instead, I felt a sense of detachment, as if I were observing the story from a great distance.

Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just not in the right frame of mind to appreciate this particular work. But I can't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. I had hoped for a passionate and engaging read, but what I got was a beautiful but ultimately cold and unfulfilling experience.

The opening novel of Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet didn’t leave me indifferent.

It’s probably one of the best well-written books I have ever read. Durrell’s mastery of the word is indisputable. His descriptions of place are surreal, evocative, and provocative, tinged with a poetic melancholy.

“The ripple and flurry of the invisible colonies of birds around us increases. Slowly, painfully, like a half-open door the dawn is upon us, forcing back the darkness.”

This delicious quote is part of a quite long scene at the end of the novel. Just before the unnamed narrator goes back to his dear Alexandria to visit the child of his deceased lover. One can’t help but notice the polished use of language as well as the tension building up towards an end that leaves the reader with a feeling of emptiness, the kind that is forged in disappointment and sadness.

And this is mainly what I found marvelous about this novel. The atmospheric use of color and mood, the powerful sense of place, of the city that is the true protagonist of this story. The city that merged “five races, five languages, a dozen creeds: five fleets turning through their greasy reflections behind the harbor bar”. The 1930s city of Alexandria.

However, the rest sounded shallow to this reader's ears. The melodramatic characters, the crisscrossed and doomed love affairs, and the psychoanalytical and rather useless chatter of the narrator. Everything but the city was depicted without any substantial depth. Everything paled in comparison to the great detail with which magnificent Alexandria was brought to life.

Durrell’s attempt at psychology, which is written with finesse both in sound and rhythm and is very pleasant to read, can’t beat the underlying grandiloquence of his sentences that bear latent misogynistic vibes. For example, attributing abuse as the reason for the femme fatale's promiscuity. "Justine" gives the title to this novel and yet she ends up being a mere sketch, a tenuous presence that comes in and out of the main stage where the nameless narrator builds his case.

A brilliant novel that failed to move me as I expected it would. As I turned the last page, I felt sad to see the exquisiteness of Durrell’s prose go, knowing at the same time that I would forget Justine’s tribulations in no time at all. Funnily enough, “Gazelle”, Ducornet’s lesser known heroine still haunts my dreams from time to time.

This started off good. The writing was truly great, and you had the sense that the author might attempt to do something remarkable with the story. I never really felt put off by the jumble of language, nor by the handful of allusions and direct quotes. The narrator, being a writer himself and surrounded by other creative and well-educated individuals, never really came across as pretentious just for the sake of it. However, slowly but surely, I found myself feeling more and more ill at ease.

The feelings that Durrell expresses are more than a little confused. Especially the idea of the adulterer using the lover as a substitute, as some kind of intermediary to get closer to the person they are cheating on. He presents a picture of women that is as bland as can be. "Like woman who think by biological precept and without help of reason," (144) seemed to be one of his tenets of female behavior, as well as this doozy: "She was a walking abstract of the writers and thinkers whom she had loved or admired-- but what clever woman is more?" (203).

No thanks, Mr. D. That, coupled with some sort of latent undercurrent of racism and anti-semitism that lurks in the background of a plotless yet well-written book. It was truly a pity to see such beautiful prose mangled by the ideas it was trying to convey.

It was a quite satisfying read in terms of literature. I find some texts (and also films) charismatic. For example, I can mention Maria's novels. The novels I mentioned seem as if the characters in them would be the most charismatic people in the world. I felt this in this novel too. Of course, the thing that made me feel this was primarily the authors' literary skills. The influence of the characters they created is also there, of course. They describe those characters in an extraordinary way. There were many underlined places. In fact, it should be read several more times. It is a novel that can give more pleasure even in the second reading. Yes, its reading is not easy. It sometimes bores people and is quite difficult, but it is worth it for the total pleasure it gives.

This novel has a certain charm that attracts readers. The author's writing style is unique, and the vivid descriptions of the characters and the plot make people feel as if they are in the story. Although it may take some effort to understand, the reward is great. It makes you think and feel, and it leaves a deep impression on you.

Overall, it is a great piece of literature that is worth exploring and enjoying.

Dear Lawrence Durrell,

I am truly sorry that I abandoned your book after reading just 20 pages and returned it to the library. For me, not finishing a book I begin is always an extremely difficult choice, especially when it is from one of the various lists I refer to, such as this one on the Modern Library's Top 100 Novels of the 20th Century. By no means have I loved all of them, but they are generally worth persevering through. However, in your case, Lawrence, you really didn't provide me with much to engage with. You introduced me to this damaged, melancholy and rather pathetic narrator who had fled from the traumas of his life and was hiding out on top of a cliff or something. In those 20 pages, the only things he talked about (in order of the number of words dedicated to them) were: the joyless, gruesome boredom of his "wounded sex" (you said it, Lawrence, not me), which I knew I was going to hear a great deal more about, his loathed and despised friends (they're his FRIENDS, Lawrence, he shouldn't hate them), and then long passages of waxing poetic about his surroundings. In brief, L.D., you really didn't make me feel optimistic about enjoying the remaining 225 pages of the book. In fact, I was starting to feel considerable dread and anxiety about it, so I decided to cut my losses and return you to the library without delay. I'm sorry if I let you down, Lawrence. But I have a fairly strong feeling that if I had persisted with your book, you would have let me down too. Let's just call it even and move on, shall we? No hard feelings.

Sincerely, Jenny

Que super novela!!!! It was an extremely challenging novel to read as it wasn't easy reading material. However, once I finished it, I knew I would never forget it. The story was so captivating and engaging that it held my attention from start to finish. The author's writing style is truly remarkable, and I was completely immersed in the world he created. I can't wait to read the next book by this wonderful writer. I'm sure it will be just as amazing as this one. I highly recommend this novel to anyone who loves a good read and is looking for something that will really make them think and feel.

It was a time of both poverty and a deep love for poetry in my life when I first delved into Justine, the opening book of The Alexandria Quartet. I was just 19 years old and living outdoors in Missoula, Montana.

Mostly, I slept high up on Mount Sentinel. My tiny tent was concealed among the trees near the mountain's summit. Every night, when the campus library closed, I would embark on a hike up to my tent.

It was a brutally cold winter, with weeks of temperatures below zero. Around that time, I also became friends with the poet Richard Hugo, who recommended that I read Justine.

So, each night, by the soft glow of candlelight, I would slowly peruse a few pages before drifting off to sleep. Slowly, because I had difficulty reading then due to dyslexia, and also because Durrell's poetic prose demanded a measured pace.

Now, let's transition to the book itself. Set in the 1940s in Alexandria, the narrator has endured a tumultuous love triangle or, depending on one's perspective, is suffering from being spurned. To find solace from the pain, he writes. And Justine is the woman he was in love with.

This first book of the Quartet confronts the relationship head-on, while each of the subsequent three books examines the same settings and characters from a different vantage point.

Justine was probably the best book I had ever read, and it remains one of the finest to this day. Back when I was reading it, it was far superior to my hunger, the cold, the hard ground, and infinitely better than the loneliness of being homeless.

The Alexandria Quartet - and Justine, this first book even more so than the other three - was the nourishment that my soul so urgently craved. This book provided an explanation for why our hearts can be shattered. We search for words to express the music and the story, and in doing so, we discover our humanity through what we sometimes find: each other.

In the profound stillness of these winter evenings, there exists a solitary clock: the sea. Its indistinct momentum within the mind serves as the fugue upon which this writing is constructed. The empty cadences of seawater lapping at its own wounds, sulking along the mouths of the delta, and boiling upon those desolate beaches - empty beneath the gulls, a white scribble on the grey, devoured by clouds. - Lawrence Durrell, Justine

Sometimes, you stumble upon a new author and instantly know that you're about to embark on a lifelong friendship. Albeit a one-sided one, yet you're certain that you'll be the better for it.

I have just completed one of the most exquisitely beautiful books I've ever had the pleasure of reading. I have never encountered such breathtakingly exquisite descriptions in my entire life. This is a story that delves deep into the intertwined lives of the unnamed Irish narrator, his girlfriend Melissa, Justine - the woman everyone is hopelessly infatuated with, and her husband Nessim, all of whom are living in Egypt just prior to the outbreak of the First World War. You anticipate the presence of affairs, and indeed, there are. However, the allure of the story for me lies not merely in the scandal but primarily in the writing itself.

“Capitally, what is this city of ours? What is resumed in the word Alexandria?” To me, a person who has never set foot in Egypt, Alexandria is a place where the world's largest library once stood, the loss of which was a tragedy for all bibliophiles. To Durrell, it was a racially diverse city with its myriad religions and cultures coexisting harmoniously in one region, a haven for academics and writers. Alexandria also emerges as a significant character in this book, as mysterious in its diversity as is Justine, the eponymous character.

This is my ideal book; an enthralling story set in a captivating locale, replete with profound philosophy and poetic prose. The words Durrell employed were like veritable poetry, leaving me utterly stunned. His characters are so masterfully developed, perhaps making this one stand out to me a little more than those in Anais Nin's books (I do perceive their styles to be similar, and I can fathom why Nin held him in such high regard). The characters seemed astonishingly real to me, one of the most intriguing being Scobie:

“Scobie is a sort of protozoic profile in fog and rain for he carries with him a sort of English weather, and he is never happier than when he can sit over a microscopic wood-fire in winter and talk…Whenever he speaks of the past it is in series of short dim telegrams– as if already communications were poor, the weather inimical to transmission.”

The fact that there are three more books in the Alexandria Quartet fills me with such palpable excitement. I have discovered a new favorite writer :)