“We are all hunting for rational reasons for believing in the absurd” (voice of Balthazar) p 92. I found myself constantly vacillating on this one. At certain moments, the overblown language actually managed to work, touching on something profound and beautiful. However, more frequently, the language served as a hindrance. It was excessive, overly hyped up, humorlessly serious and gaudy, making it difficult to take seriously, especially when he was merely discussing something trivial. It would have been far better if the language had been elevated only for those portions that demanded it and then returned to a more平实 tone for simpler passages. That way, it wouldn't have come across as almost ridiculous. At the very least, it would have provided some contrast instead of treating everything as if it were of supreme importance.

It's a great pity too, because I had the sense that this could have been truly excellent. It had a similar feel to Ingeborg Bachmann's Malina. Both books are almost plotless nonchronological recollections of a strange circle of friends/lovers in a very specific place. Also, both books are set amidst the harsh realities of war but focus instead on those same forces playing out on a personal level rather than a political one. However, Bachmann's book was able to be deadly serious while also not taking itself too seriously on the surface. There was a lightness within the darkness. I believe this book also aspires to achieve that, but it weighs itself down with the incredible burden of its own will.

The other thing that's a pity is that I really wanted to read all four books in this quartet when I began. But at this point, I don't think I want to invest more in this reading experience. I simply can't endure any more of those sentences! Guilt always hurries towards its complement, punishment: only there does satisfaction lie. 148

"Show me the man who invented the human heart. Then show me where he was hung," a certain character says.

That's such a dark thought it hurts. Or when a woman asked her husband if he was falling in love with another woman, he replies, "It's worse than that."

After all, the author writes there are five sexes in Alexandria and sets us down the path of who really loves who. But then there is the weird: a character has a rubber woman manufactured, fills her with water, names her Sabrina, and is buried with her. (We learn some of the small side stories are fictional (inside of fiction) in Alexandria #2).

Then there is the overwhelming beauty. Early in this novel, the narrator/author asks, "What is in the word Alexandria?" There are "...minarets painted on the dust-colored sky..." And in the "...ruins of Alexandria..." the narrator/author is "...dazzled by the moonlight..."

(The author spent the first 10 years of his life in India having been born there, and he uses the word "dusty" often. I imagine parts of India as dusty, just like the Alexandria I visited in 2005 for so.)

When I realized this novel contains endlessly quotable lines often overshadowing story, I questioned my sure-to-be 5-star rating. Then I asked myself, "Is Durrell as good an author as Proust, who also wrote beautifully and painfully?"

Proust writes about his younger past only as he remembers it while Durrell's narrator tells the story as he witnesses/hears it, even though some stories he hears might not be true at all. And both use the word "mauve" often. Durrell is a condensed Proust, perhaps.

And comparing the two, on the other hand, might be like a ridiculous comparison of Joyce and Austen, but both did create masterpieces.

Halfway through the second in this quartet, "Bathalzar", I went back and reread "Justine". Two reads over a three week period, knowing I'm gonna have to buy this Quartet for my permanent home bookshelves? Of course this is a 5-star book for me, that's my definition: read it, gotta read it again and own a copy to revisit passages often.

This book is truly suffused with a sense of wistful nostalgia.

It is as if it is steeped in the languor of the Mediterranean, carrying with it the love and lust of days long past.

I myself lived in Egypt many years ago, and as I delved into the pages of this book, it effortlessly brought back my own deeply nostalgic memories of a carefree youth.

Perhaps, in this regard, I am a biased reader.

But then again, who among us isn't?

We all have our own personal connections and emotions that color our perception of the written word.

This book has managed to touch that chord within me, awakening a flood of memories and feelings that I had long since buried.

It is a testament to the power of literature to transport us back in time and allow us to relive those precious moments.

Whether others will feel the same way, I cannot say.

But for me, this book is a treasure trove of nostalgia, a reminder of a time when life was simpler and full of hope.

I truly enjoy the exquisite language and the overall atmosphere of Alexandria that Durrell so vividly puts down in this first book of the Alexandria quartet. The words seem to dance on the page, painting a vivid picture of the city and its people.

However, for me, as much as it was the intention, it is not the case for the entire near 1000 pages of the full quartet. I have to confess that it gets a bit dull for me as I progress through the subsequent books.

The initial charm and excitement start to wane, and I find myself struggling to maintain the same level of engagement. Perhaps it is because the story becomes too convoluted or the characters lose their appeal.

Nonetheless, I still appreciate the beauty and artistry of Durrell's writing in the first book, and it will always hold a special place in my literary heart.

This is my third time delving into this book, but on this occasion, I chose to listen. It was truly astonishing how many of the words had become ingrained within me. As I listened, I found myself spontaneously smiling at those familiar parts.

I'm eagerly anticipating actually completing the quartet this time (hoping with crossed fingers) and exploring the other segments of the story.

The narrator performs a rather decent job. However, some of the voices are so thickly accented that they are nearly incomprehensible! Additionally, the audiobook had a track at the conclusion where a Durrell scholar expounds upon the quartet and the city of Alexandria as a character. I gleaned a great deal from it and was extremely glad that I listened to those 24 minutes.

It's interesting to note that each time I engage with this work, whether through reading or listening, I discover new nuances and perspectives. The different mediums offer unique experiences, and I'm excited to see what else I'll uncover as I progress through the quartet.

The book itself contains many beautiful thoughts that I underlined, but I didn't like it because of the author's overly flowery writing style. Usually, such things don't bother me, but this flowery style is like the ceiling of a baroque palace with its gilding, paintings, and stucco works. Suddenly, they all appear in front of your eyes, and you don't know where to look. Another thing that disappointed me was the description on the back cover, which promised a certain Miller in the smallest print, but instead, you get a Versailles salon of mirrors that you look at from the shards of those delicate mirrors broken on the floor. The rating is lower because Cavafy's poems at the end are pure perfection compared to the rest of the text, although I am grateful to Darrell for revealing it to me.

I found myself getting lost in the elaborate prose, which sometimes overshadowed the essence of the ideas. It was as if the author was more concerned with showing off their writing skills than communicating the story effectively. However, the presence of Cavafy's poems was a saving grace. Their simplicity and profoundness provided a much-needed contrast to the rest of the text.

Overall, while the book had its flaws, it also had moments of brilliance. I will remember the beautiful thoughts it contained and the impact of Cavafy's poems. It was an experience that made me think and appreciate different styles of writing.

Justine is one of the best works I have ever read in my entire life. It is a small book, but it requires very slow tasting. On the contrary, it is possible that you might get drunk after the first 10 pages and start vomiting.

Justine does not fit into any literary category. It transcends time, theme, plot, novel, ballad, poem, and even its own characters. It transcends itself and goes far beyond its capabilities. I can't explain exactly what I mean by that. One must read it to understand and feel. Reading Justine is more like sneaking into Durrell's dream and getting lost in the channels of love affairs, on the layers of Alexandria.

Durrell is said to have adopted Sade's view in this book: "No form of lovemaking is a sin." This is exactly what this book is about.

Most beautifully, it ends with Cavafy's poem "The City," which penetrates my heart every time I read it. What Alexandria is for Cavafy and Durrell, for me, that city is ISTANBUL.

The book titled "Justine" by Lawrence Durrell proved to be a challenging read for me.

Initially, I detested it. The language seemed highbrow drivel, filled with pretentious and convoluted philosophizing. The characters appeared to be egotistical,只顾满足自己的欲望、需求和愿望。The story presented a rather amoral and self-centered view of relationships.

However, towards the end of Part Three, something changed. The focus shifted from the characters' egotistical behavior to the consequences of their actions. This new perspective made me more interested in the story and the characters. I began to see how their choices affected not only themselves but also those around them.

The author's descriptions of events, sceneries, and places were quite good. I also liked the way he explored the theme of relationships and how people interact.

Unfortunately, the audiobook narration by Jack Klaff was terrible. Justine's voice sounded like a weak, feeble ghost, and Balthazar's voice resembled that of an automaton. It was difficult to listen to without either laughing or leaving the room.

Overall, I would rate this book two stars. While there were some redeeming qualities, the excessive philosophizing and terrible narration outweighed them. I'm not sure if I'll continue with the rest of the series, as I'm not sure if I can handle more of the same.

Edit z 4.5 na 4.


…


This is my very book.


“If I have to finally describe this sad relationship that has caused me so much pain, I have already understood that only this pain has become the food for memories. Because pleasure encloses itself within itself and it has not enriched me with anything except for unruffled health and indifference, from which I draw the strength to live. I have become a dry battery.”


This passage beautifully expresses the complex emotions and experiences within a relationship. The author uses vivid language to convey the idea that the pain endured has become a source of sustenance for memories. The concept of pleasure being self-contained and not adding true value is thought-provoking. The description of oneself as a “dry battery” emphasizes the sense of depletion and loss of vitality. Overall, it is a powerful and poignant reflection on the nature of relationships and their impact on one's well-being.

It makes the reader empathize with the author's situation and perhaps prompts them to reflect on their own experiences in similar relationships.

The simplicity and directness of the language add to the effectiveness of the message, making it accessible and relatable to a wide range of readers.

When I read Serinin's other books, I don't know if my opinion will change, but Justine is really a very good novel. Its characters are at least as impactful (impressive). We can also feel Alexandria on every page. I haven't come across such a vivid text for a long time. This vividness stems from both the style and the language. The author's language is not a very easy-to-read language. You need to let yourself be captured by the rhythm of the text, and this of course requires effort. I think the reward for this effort is more than enough. In short, I liked it very much and I aim to complete the series within a month.

**"The City" by Konstantinos Kavafis**

The poem "The City" presents a profound exploration of a person's sense of dissatisfaction and the illusion of finding a better place. The speaker declares their intention to leave for another land and sea, believing that they will find a better city. However, they also express their sense of failure and the feeling that their heart is buried like that of a dead person. Their mind seems to be stuck in stagnation, and wherever they look, they see the black ruins of their life.

The poet then goes on to say that the speaker will not find new places or other seas. The city will follow them, and they will end up wandering the same paths and growing old in the same neighborhoods. They will cover themselves with ashes in the same houses. Always, they will return to this city. There is no boat for them to reach another place, no departure. Just as they have wasted their life here in this small corner, they will waste it everywhere on earth.

This poem makes us reflect on the idea that sometimes, our dissatisfaction with our current situation may lead us to believe that a change of place will bring us happiness. However, as the poet suggests, we may carry our problems and unhappiness with us wherever we go. We need to look within ourselves and make the necessary changes to find true contentment.

Alexandria...

Before starting to write what I think about some books, I realized that I took a deep breath; and this was one of them.

My mind is so full of everything related to the book and I am so far from choosing the words to express this fullness that it doesn't matter.

It's an amazing book. Very intense, very real. One of my favorite things about literature was in this book: the feeling of being in the reality of the book, not in the reality you are reading.

I was in Iskenderiye with its warmth, its dust, and its sweat throughout the time I read this book. A text could be so "Mediterranean" only, and I can't explain how happy I was to associate Justine with the sea vacation I took in Kaş and with my birthday, just as I can't explain my feelings about the book.

What a "well-written" book. I'm very pleased, thank you.