**Incestuous**

Lawrence Durrell's Ambitious Alexandria Quartet
Lawrence Durrell set out to achieve a remarkable feat with his Alexandria Quartet. The first three volumes presented the same events from different perspectives, and the fourth, Clea, was to extend the story forward in time, analogous to the dimensions of space and time. However, Clea fails to meet the high expectations set by the previous volumes.

The Return to the Author's Voice
After the clarity of the third-person narrative in Mountolive, it is a shock to return to the author's own voice, or rather that of Darley. While Durrell still writes beautifully, the cloying atmosphere and verbal navel-gazing that were thought to be in the past return. The encounter between Darley and Justine, with its nauseating aroma of spilled perfume, is a prime example of this.

The Problem of Catching Up
The promise to carry the story forward in time mostly takes the form of "Whatever happened to so-and-so?" This feels like listening in on someone else's tea-party conversation, with little new happening in the book. The oblique handling of the catching-up, through third-person stories and long confessional letters, further distances the reader from the characters.

The Symbolism of Incest
Durrell's exploration of love in the Quartet includes a mention of incest, which is picked up again in Clea. This serves as a perfect symbol for a book that is itself incestuous, with the author manipulating his characters and the story lacking in authenticity. The thirty-page passage of one writer dissecting another, both alter-egos of the author, is a prime example of this navel-gazing.

The Arbitrary Resolutions
The resolutions in Clea feel arbitrary, with the central relationship between Darley and Clea coming about too easily and later encountering difficulty without explanation. The author seems to be more interested in playing games with his characters than in telling a compelling story. It is a pity that this great undertaking has fallen so short of its promise.

So sad it is all over.

I'm going to miss all these crazy fools so much. :(

El Scoob was definitely my favorite. He was always so full of energy and had a unique charm that made him stand out from the rest.

I remember all the good times we had together, the adventures we went on, and the laughs we shared.

It's hard to believe that it's all come to an end. But I guess that's life, and we have to move on.

Even though I'll miss them, I'm also excited for what the future holds.

Maybe there will be new crazy fools to meet and new adventures to go on.

But for now, I'll just hold onto the memories and cherish the time we had together.

Goodbye, my dear friends. I'll never forget you.

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Without question, the weakest volume of the Quartet is Clea. I truly believe it has a rather pointless, tacked-on quality, much like that of Godfather III. In a Paris Review interview, Durrell admitted to having a tendency to procrastinate and then work at an extremely fast pace when facing severe financial difficulties. He stated, "Ideally, had I not been short of money, I would have written the four volumes and matched them properly, as there are still quite a number of discrepancies that will need to be sorted out if the work is to be gathered. However, the shortage of money made me compose them one after the other." He spent a total of seven weeks on Clea.

As a consequence, I think his prose often suffers from a lethal combination of pretension and inattention. Someone who expounds on the role of the Artist as much as Durrell does should not be so indifferent to the discipline of the craft. When he is "on," as he is, for instance, in the carnival episode of the Mulid of El Scob that effectively concludes Clea, Durrell evokes the physical world with a delightfully impressionistic synesthesia. His "A"-game prose is poetic in the best sense of that overused word. But when he is not "on," the effect of the purple description can be sickeningly over-rich, the narrative consists of endless passages of soporific and shallow self-examination punctuated by calculatedly shocking plot-goosing, and the characters come across as either iterations of the same narcissistic hothouse flower or absurdly cartoonish caricatures. In Clea, three characters do page-long "impressions" of the dead Scobie, presumably because Durrell couldn't bear to part with the "colorful" comic qualities of a character he'd thoughtlessly killed off.

Mostly, it is dead wood, I'm afraid.

Nakon što je vremenski odsečak događaja sagledan kroz tri prostorne dimenzije - dužinu (Justina), širinu (Baltazar) i visinu (Mauntoliv) - Darel u Klei, četvrtom delu Aleksandrijskog kvarteta, dozvoljava priči da krene dalje kroz vreme. Darli se vraća u Aleksandriju nakon više godina, a to je vreme Drugog svetskog rata. Grad je na istom mestu, ali je više prilagođen ratnoj situaciji nego promenjen. Ova scena nam pruža još jednu flanersku zagledanost u grad sa zadivljujućim detaljima, ostvarenim drskim stilskim sredstvima koji sugeriraju orijentalnu poraznu lepotu (i kraljevski grad i Anus Mundi). Nekad mi se čini da bih bio sasvim zadovoljan da je čitav roman ispisan u vidu deskripcije Darlijeve imaginarne Aleksandrije.

U Egiptu, Darli susreće već poznate likove. Naravno, sureće ih uslovno, pošto u njegovom imaginarijumu Drugi ne postoji, postoji samo sopstvo koje se suočava sa problemom samotkrivanja. Sve opisane strasti, prijateljstva, izdaje predstavljeni u četvoroknjižju proizlaze iz neznanja o drugome. U Darelovoj viziji sveta, niko ne zna ništa o onom drugom, a onaj drugi uvek prikazuje odabrane izmišljotine, a zatim ga zaljubljeni boji u skladu sa potrebama ljubavi koju je izmislilio.

Ono što ostaje jesu sećanja, a u postprustovskoj književnosti sećanja su kaleidoskopi. Povratak Darlija u Egipat čini da se stare uspomene uskomešaju. Neke su mile i prijatne, druge grube - "kraste starih osećanja koje će uskoro otpasti". Kontrolisanje i procenjivanje dragocenih "ostatka oseta", kako ih je Kolridž nazivao, čine ispripovedane događaje iz prethodna tri dela živim. Međutim, odnos prema njima je promenjen. Jednu ljubav iz prošlosti Darli će uporediti sa iznošenom čarapom, drugu sa mrtvom pticom skvrčenih kandži zagralavljenom u slivniku. Iako jedan dobar deo četvrtog dela otpada na osunčavanje emotivnih starudija, žao mi je što ih nema još više. Onda bi se sva četiri dela bila čvrsto cementirana. Ovako, Darel dobar deo četvrtog dela opet posvećuje erotskim sparivanjem junaka u kombinacijama koje nije upotrebio u prethodna tri. Malo postaje zamorno i ponavljajuće, naizgled bez plana (plus četvrti deo nosi u sebi najmanje intrige). Ali razumem, Aleksandrijski kvartet je u Darelovim stremljenjima trebalo da bude promišljanje o moder(noj)ističkoj ljubavi, te se nije mogao odreći svoje teme. A i zašto bi? I onda dođe poslednje poglavlje u vidu dva pisma i taj osećaj jednog od najzadovoljavajućih krajeva nekog romana u mom čitalačkom iskustvu - junak je pred vratima bekstva iz lavirinta aporija ljubavi.

The quartet is a truly brilliant work. Each book within it is a masterpiece on its own, and when considered as a whole, it takes on an even greater significance.

The quartet weaves together a complex and engaging narrative that spans multiple storylines and characters. The writing is rich and vivid, bringing the world and its inhabitants to life in a way that is both captivating and immersive.

Each book in the quartet has its own unique charm and focus. Some may explore themes of love and loss, while others may delve into the mysteries of the human psyche or the forces that shape our world.

Despite their differences, however, all of the books in the quartet are united by a common thread of excellence. They are a testament to the author's skill and creativity, and a must-read for anyone who appreciates great literature.

In conclusion, the quartet is a work of art that will leave a lasting impression on all who read it. It is a truly brilliant achievement that deserves to be celebrated and cherished for years to come.

Finally, finished with "The Alexandria Quartet." Heavy, dreamy, poetic, this collection of four volumes published towards the end of the 1950s requires a substantial effort from the reader.

Certainly, the language is beautiful, full of poetry and beautiful phrases, but also tiresome, fatiguing, and bizarrely outdated, dating from an era when the white man was THE CIVILIZATION. That time has long passed, and what remains today of Alexandria, once cosmopolitan and mysterious, is a city devoid of culture, submerged by mosques and Islamists, and dangerous for any white tourist who dares to visit it.

There is a time for everything, and in this way, "The Alexandria Quartet" is an interesting anachronism, a polaroid photo of a city and a world of yesterday, of the glory of the British Empire that the proselytes of Brexit hope will return. But the past is the past, and neither the British Empire nor "The Alexandria Quartet" offers anything other than a nostalgic look at what there was once but will never return.

It is important to recognize that while these works may hold historical and literary value, they also reflect a bygone era with its own set of biases and limitations. We can appreciate them for what they are, but we must also move forward and embrace the present and future with an open mind and a willingness to learn and grow.

Beautiful and Problematic.

(Just like Clea herself?)

Based on my understanding of Durrell's project, I didn't expect any sort of neat-and-tidy conclusion, and that's a good thing!

The characters are so entangled and entwined, with all their complex relationships. The metaphors, especially those related to Freud, add another layer of depth. The concept of 'art' also plays an important role. They all come together, then move apart, and come together again, without any clear end in sight. Even death doesn't bring finality.

The human drama, in conjunction with (or sometimes in spite of) the political drama and the social climate of the time, only serves to intensify the commentary. It's both exciting and problematic.

As for the romance...

Justine's words are so appropriate: "Pursewarden and Liza, Darley and Melissa, Mountolive and Leila, Nessim and Justine, Narouz and Clea...The sort of pattern we make should be of interest to someone; or is it just a meaningless display of coloured fireworks, the actions of human beings or a set of dusty puppets which could be hung up in the corner of a writer's mind?"

Whatever it is, the writing is beautiful.

Oh, and for those who were charmed by the elegance of his style, here are some buzz words that are sure to raise some serious questions the second time around: colonialism, feminism, psychoanalytic theory.

The story I am about to tell you... But it has already faded away... Almost as if there is nothing left because it is far away, in the early years of my youth.

In those distant days, I had experiences that were both precious and fleeting. They were like stars that shone brightly for a moment and then disappeared into the vastness of time.

This particular memory, although somewhat模糊, still holds a special place in my heart. It was a time when life was full of hope and dreams, and I was eager to explore the world around me.

As I look back on it now, I realize how much I have changed and how much time has passed. But that memory remains, a reminder of who I was and where I came from.

The best thing that can be done with a great truth, and that was discovered by Rabelais, is to bury it among a mountain of absurdities, waiting for the picks and shovels of the chosen ones.

This implies that the path to uncovering the truth is often hidden and requires dedicated effort.

It was also noticed that the true fiction was not found on the pages of Arnauti, nor on those of Pursewarden, nor even in mine.

Life provided the fiction, and we all attempted to express it through different languages, different interpretations, in accordance with the nature and genius of each one.

This shows that everyone has their own unique way of perceiving and presenting the fictional elements that exist within life.

We are all on a journey to understand and convey the truth and fiction that surrounds us, using our individual talents and perspectives.

It is through this exploration that we can hope to gain a deeper understanding of the world and ourselves.

Hmm... It took me four months to finish the Alexandrian Quartet, which is quite a long time considering there are about 900 pages in this cycle.

I started and finished the book on a idyllic car-free island under the sun, by the sea, with summer adventures... It's a bit of a snobbish book, with a lot of French expressions, difficult and unusual words, and an easy-going style that, in a sometimes tiring but wonderful way, portrays a city that no longer exists, Alexandria.

The plot revolves around several characters and love relationships. I read it slowly and carefully. There are many wise sayings and observations about life, literature, love, music, and all kinds of other themes worthy of careful consideration.

In this book, I found something similar to what I found in André Gide's Journal, a small call of awareness, and even a confirmation of my own existence through reading and literature.

Clea was the last book of the Quartet. I had wanted to get to know this character closely ever since I read Balthazar. Although she was different from what I had imagined in my mind, she was not less beautiful. The feelings I had while reading The Alexandria Quartet were very well described by the following sentences that Darley said somewhere in the book: "Just as I was modelling a face in words, new information was coming into play, the framework of relationships was breaking down, everything was falling apart, but it was coming together again in ways that were completely unexpected and could not have been predicted beforehand." This was exactly what Durrell's Quartet was like. With his long descriptions, I wandered through the streets of Alexandria. With his detailed treatment of events, I was amazed each time and then got used to being amazed. While telling the events from the perspectives of more than one person differently, the sentence 'There are only as many realities as we choose to think' always rang in my ears. As someone who loves simple descriptions, I read these long and flowery descriptions with great pleasure. Durrell, it was really nice to get to know you...

"If you fall in love with one of the people living in a city, that city can turn into a world."