Má dovolená byla trochu ve znamení Louise de Bernières, a tahle perla byla poslední kousek, který jsem měl s sebou. A možná ten nejlepší. Film jsem zatím neviděl a je otázka, jestli se na něj ještě teď podívám, kniha mě ale dostala totálně. Nic tam nechybí, je tam to řecké horko, příjemná atmosféra i pohostinnost kterou známe z dovolených, za tím už ale vystrkují rohy všelijací oškliví démoni jak z minulosti, tak ze současnosti. A najednou je ze středomořské idylky peklo a všichni ti andělé okolo shazují bílé hábity a vytahují na vás vidle. Někdy z toho mrazí, někdy vás to dojme, někdy rozesměje, ale nikdy vás to nenechá jen tak. Výborná věc.

Chrissie, your book just arrived from Belgium, thanks!!

It took me some time to get into this book since in the beginning they are too many characters to get know through the plot. This is the story of the Italian invasion in the island of Cephalonia in Greece. Captain Corelli is ahead of this invasion and he fells in love with Pelagia who, in the other hand, is also involved with Madras who belongs to a group of Greek partisans. Dr Iannis is the doctor who practices medicine in this small island. The author manages very well to make a mixture of styles from history to fantasy including a lot of irony into this fabulous story.

Did we read the same book?

My goodness. The beginning of the book is epically long - reminiscent of when Frodo is trying to leave The Shire in The Lord of the Rings. The book is called Captain Corelli's Mandolin, and he doesn't make a meaningful appearance in the first 100 pages. I mean come on!

The middle part of the book is rather good. It deals with some complex emotions, and the love triangle has some unique depth.

Then, the ending. My goodness. Why were so many characters thrown in that we didn't care about? And possibly one of the most contrived plot devices of all time! Pelagia's father was adamant that she be allowed to practice as a doctor. But all of that just flies right out the window at the end. Also, Corelli claims that he thought that Pelagia was married, because she had a child. It could have been any of the orphaned children left behind in the war or she could have just been babysitting. When she sees him, he runs and hides behind a fence. Why? This makes no sense. She wasn't running toward him with a broom. She wanted to see him. Why wouldn't he just turn toward her and say, "Hey! Haven't seen you in so long! Tell me about your life!" and then give kisses on the cheek as is the Italian custom? Didn't he at least owe her a thank you for saving my life? The ending made no sense, and I wasted hours of my life on it.

Sorry, I don't have my regular computer so no flashy ending hyperlinks today. But for people who must know: I paid $31.67 for a hardcover first edition first print of this book on PangoBooks, and I also listened to this on Audible.

This is Benito Mussolini, one-time Fascist dictator of Italy and streetlight ornament of the same:

n  n

And this is Mussolini talking.

Unless you understand Italian, you have no idea what he's saying. But I bet, even without the historical context, you understand that he's a major asshole. Just look at the body language.

In a way, Louis de Bernières is a lot like that, a little in love with himself. His authorial blurb tells of his many manly adventures. He holds an advanced degree, but is desperate to come off as some sort of blue collar polymath. His novel suffers from it; just as Mussolini put on a façade to impress, so does de Bernières. At times, the first 150 pages read like a guy going through a thesaurus. The dialogue is solid, but he gets carried away with the narration. He flirts with magical realism, and does so in a manner more effective than most. I would provide an example, but I donated my copy to the local library.

One also gets the sense that he favors the equatorial lifestyle to the exclusion of all others. I have no problem with this (I, myself, prefer said lifestyle), but always casting the natives and Italians in a favorable light and never the Germans? It comes off a bit tidy. Maybe it helps move a love story that takes place during WWII from point to point.

The ending is just about the most unsatisfying thing I have ever read.

Readers are usually introduced to this writer through this novel because of the movie tie-in.

The narrative threads do come together rather skilfully, in a way which is bizarre, unexpected, and entertaining. Sad, and sentimental; humming with charm.

The author may have tried to accomplish too much with this story. Like Shakespeare and Melville, he includes passages that could practically stand alone as good advice on living or doing something. There are some high-level summaries of historical developments that perhaps do not belong here, at least in that format. There is a certain amount of technical detail about music that left me behind. He could have just deleted the early chapter on Mussolini. And if I wanted to be picky (I don't) I could point out developments that felt a little contrived. Those are my reservations.

But on the other hand we have the depth and appeal of the principal characters, and the author's affectionate and benevolent view (while not failing to acknowledge their human limitations). The story opened my eyes to a region and to events that were new to me, brought a range of heartfelt responses including laughter and tears, and kept me riveted from start to finish. I was sorry to reach the end. This may not be a great novel, but it's very, very, very good -- certainly better in terms of character development than others of a similar genre (say, Doctor Zhivago or Gone With the Wind).

Read as part of The Infinite Variety Reading Challenge, based on the BBC's Big Read Poll of 2003.

I've had this book for years after accidentally stealing it from College (we were asked to pick two books on a table to take home over the Summer to read and I chose this and Catch-22, but when I returned the following term I was in a different class and simply forgot, about half a dozen times, to return them and subsequently have had it since) and have finally gotten around to reading it after starting and stopping it a few times.

It is kind of a story of two halves, one concerning the Second World War occupation of the Greek island of Cephallonia and the other concerning the inhabitants of said island as they deal with the war, love and attempts at writing Greek histories.

It is sublimely written in places: there were times when I was completely lost in the prose, especially when Beriniéres wrote about love in exactly the way I feel about it and not many authors have ever been able to convey before:

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.”

But then there were times when it was just dull and uninviting and I felt like it had dived too hard to the bottom of the ocean and it didn't seem like it would ever rise to the surface again. It was an odd journey to go on, not only as we follow the plot and the various love interests of the characters, but how the writing could go from the sublime to the rather ordinary.

It is a beautiful book, but it was just let down by trying to be far superior with every single word, instead of having its moments and being satisfied with that. Definitely one to pick up and, if you do, really try to stick with it through to the end because it will touch your soul, but you have to work for it.


Blog | Instagram | Twitter | Pinterest | Shop | Etsy

This apparently little-known book is a jewel. Written with passion and incandescant humor, the novel recreates WWII-era Greece (and to a certain extent, the rest of Fascist-occupied Europe at that time) with striking beauty. The characters are unforgettable and nearly all likeable; raw pathos, tragedy, comedy, and romance are fused into one gripping narrative that defies classification. It is, if anything, an effective composition of high Romance and a coming-of-age story: two classic stories in one. But it never takes itself seriously. The story is remarkably erudite, also: historical data is incorporated seamlessly into the story, and the many classic and contemporary references are treated with the same delight as the meat of the story itself. The overall impression of the book is that of a touching, highly entertaining story written by one with a deep love of the people and places.  Corelli's Mandolin: A Novel is among my highest-recommended book.

Content Note: Sexual Violence
This is an awful piece of shit book that I had to read for A Level. De Beniere's emotionally manipulates you with a shallow yet aesthetically pleasing folksy depiction of Greek Island life...before he hits with the BIG SMACKDOWN....DUN DUN DUN....COMMUNISM IS BAD...POSSIBLY EVEN WORSE THAN FASCISM...
De Bernieres smears the Greek Communist resistance against Nazism as a gang of psychopaths, even going as far to use attempted rape of one of the main characters to do so. When he was called out of this, he had a massive piss baby fit and rambled the same shitty narratives about totalitarianism.
In conclusion, this book is a real big piece of shit.

Heart-rendering.. when words make you cry or laugh, it is the sign of pure genius.

The ancient Greeks treated tragedy and comedy as separate genres. But this Greek drama is a hybrid. Tragedy on the large and small canvas; comedy from individual characters. Such contrasts can strengthen one's reaction to both extremes, but for me, this particular book might have worked better if de Bernières had focused primarily on one or the other.

I see its charm. This is a feelgood book, filled with bucolic delights, entertaining Characters (borderline caricatures and slapstick), and saccharine sun. But they are contrasted with war, loss, and the pragmatics of making do. Humour, love, and music soften the graphically portrayed toll of war and tectonics.

Some of the writing is beautiful, and some of it is funny. I was captivated by the opening paragraph and loved the first chapter. But I was bored by the second chapter, and nervous when I started the third. The final, near contemporary, chapters were simultaneously predictable and implausible. It’s as if de Bernières wanted a happy(ish) ending, but not a happy middle, and went to ludicrous lengths to achieve it.

That patchy experience, with many different voices, styles, and genres, was repeated throughout: a bitty book, hence a bitty review. Like a visitor to the island, I ambled from beautiful beaches to rocky outcrops, along smooth pavements and disintegrating paths, from mountains to fields, from tourist towns to ancient villages, ever unsure of what I would encounter next. Maybe the rose-tinted hues of sangria would have helped.

I think this is probably an objective 4*, but my experience ranged from 2* to 4*, averaging 3*.

The Distorting Lenses of History and Ideology

“History repeats itself, first as tragedy, and then again as tragedy.”

More… (no plot spoilers).
Cephallonia was settled so long ago that a veil blurs the boundary between myth and history. It is sometimes claimed as the home of Odysseus, and today, the enormous ancient olive trees have an air of “patient omniscience”.

The backdrop is a detailed history of the Italian and then German occupation in WW2, including international geopolitics and detailed battle tactics. Not my thing. Fortunately, de Bernières tells the story from local perspectives, as well as that of global victors.

Italian soldier, Carlo Guercio, believes history should be “the anecdotes of the little people” (he himself is physically huge). Dr Iannis is little in the grand scheme of things, but a figure of towering importance in his village. He spends many years writing a detailed history of the island, but is frustrated that his own passion makes objectivity impossible, creating “not so much a history as a lament. Or a tirade.” And then history “happens before my very eyes”. Later, his daughter, Pelagia, continues his work, putting her own spin on things.

Many characters are deeply conscious of their roots. But the atrocities of war, driven by persuasive demagogues touting totalitarian ideologies (communist and fascist) transform minds, hearts, loyalties, and lives forever.

People are separated from their heritage, their future, their families, and even their sanity. If you believe strongly enough in your cause, “Death is not an enemy, but a brother”, whether to embrace for its own sake, or to save others.

In the final chapters, capitalism, tourism, and hedonism herald further transformation for those on the island.


Love of All Kinds at its Heart

“Love delayed is lust augmented.”
“Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away… But sometimes the petals fall away and the roots have not entwined.”

More… (no plot spoilers).
Love is at the heart of this story. It has a big heart, and central to it all is the widowed Doctor Iannis and his daughter Pelagia (seventeen at the start). I loved them both, and their “gentle idyll with its mock contretemps, its tranquil routines, and its congenial eccentricities”.

There is young love, old love, a love triangle, parent-child love, love for a stranger’s child, unrequited taboo love, love across other boundaries (“a dark secret that everybody knew”), love for animals (Psipsina, the pine marten, and Pelagia’s goat – shades of Gerald Durrell), love of country, and love of music (opera in the latrine, and the eponymous mandolin).

Antonio Corelli is musician more than soldier. He plays his mandolin with “nightingales in his fingers” and “a symphony of expressions was passing over his face”. Pelagia realises music is “an emotion and intellectual Odyssey”. There is a whole chapter where he muses on his instrument being a metaphor for the woman he loves.

The hopeful message is that however hard life is, love for someone, or something, makes it bearable - as long as that love is not for excessive food or drink, or for a dangerous ideology.


L’Omosessuale

“I am mentioned almost nowhere, but where I find myself, I find myself condemned.”

More… (no plot spoilers).
Several early chapters explore the inner agony of a man’s secret love for a straight man. These are powerful, painful passages.

Later, it felt like more of an occasional, external, but nevertheless crucial plot point. It was just one of the ways the unpredictable variability of style, tone, and content unbalanced me.

•t“I am a foreigner within my own nation, an alien in my own race. I am as detested as cancer.”
•t“To me the company of a woman is painful because it reminds me of what I am not.”
•t“A guilty man wishes only to be understood, because to be understood is to appear to be forgiven… No one knows that I am guilty [gay], and nonetheless I wish to be understood.”


The Changing Role of Women

The story stretches from 1941 to 1993, a period of great social change on the island, especially for women.

More… (no plot spoilers).
At the start, the doctor has almost scandalously progressive ideas, so Pelagia is educated, independently minded, and won’t get a dowry. This, at a time when marriage is likely to be “childbirth and relentless work”, with “no freedom until widowhood… when the community would turn against her”.

Yet in middle age, Pelagia finds herself disapproving of how Antonia juggles career and motherhood. There is no answer to having it all.


Excusing Evil?

There’s a chapter titled “The Good Nazi”.

More… (no plot spoilers).
It’s easy to label people and events in binary terms, but simplification masks uncomfortable truths. A strength of this book is the conflict created in the reader’s mind by the compassion used when portraying those who commit unspeakable acts.

Günter Weber and others are seen, in part, as a victims of circumstance or gullibility, “maddened and broken by his own dutiful atrocities”, or finding redemption through sacrifice.

Perhaps this generosity reflects the islanders’ tradition of being “hospitable even to those who do not merit it”. They ridicule, prank, inconvenience, and try to exploit the Italian invaders (the Germans, not so much), wary of being thought collaborators, but mostly coming to mutual, somewhat uneasy acceptance.

They grudgingly feed the hand that bites them:
“This is Cephallonian meat pie… except that thanks to your people, it doesn’t have any meat in it.”


Sesquipedalian Vocabulary

How can anyone be “hyperbolically bisexual”?!

More… (no plot spoilers).
I love rich and unusual words, but at times, especially in the first quarter, de Bernières was over-generous with his profusion of obscure, and sometimes invented words, mostly via the delightful, multi-lingual doctor: stalagmitic, prestidigitation, effulgent, iatric mystique, eleusinian, iconostasis, stertoriously, corybantic, sternutatory, for example.


Satirising a Demagogue

A leaflet trashing Mussolini is anonymously written, printed, and distributed on the island. I read it in the final days of the US election of 2016, and finished my review the day Donald J Trump was declared President Elect - a man whose candidacy was first treated as comedy, but now feels more like tragedy:

More… (no plot spoilers).
•tHe “believes his own propaganda”.
•tSomething “is not true, even though everyone who knew Him in those days remembers it perfectly”.
•tHe “diverted funds… for His own election campaign”.
•t“He has pretended to be a Catholic.”
•tHe gerrymanders, appoints only sycophants, oppresses minorities, and approves of torture.
•t“He has assumed infallibility and encouraged the people to carry His image in marches, as though He were saint.”
•t“He agreed completely with the last person he spoke to.”
•t“Everything in his speeches is contradicted somewhere by another speech.”
•tBut “the speeches of a lunatic are treated as sacred texts”.


National(istic) Stereotypes

The first batch were mildly amusing and the style was reminiscent of Yes, Prime Minister, for example: Hacker: Don't tell me about the press. I know exactly who reads the papers: the Daily Mirror is read by people who think they run the country; The Guardian is read by people who think they ought to run the country; The Times is read by people who actually do run the country; the Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country; the Financial Times is read by people who own the country; The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by another country; and The Daily Telegraph is read by people who think it is.
Sir Humphrey: Prime Minister, what about the people who read The Sun?
Bernard: Sun readers don't care who runs the country, as long as she's got big tits.
.
But as they kept coming, they lost their sheen.

More… (no plot spoilers).
The well-travelled and well-read doctor opines:

“Germany is taking everything, the Italians are playing the fool, the French have run away, the Belgians have been overrun whilst they were looking the other way, the Poles have been charging tanks with cavalry, the Americans have been playing baseball, the British have been drinking tea and adjusting their monocles, the Russians have been sitting on their hands except when voting unanimously to do whatever they are told.”

“Italians always act without thinking… A German plans a month in advance what his bowel movements will be… and the British plan everything in retrospect, so it always looks as though everything occurred as they intended. The French plan everything whilst appearing to be having a party, and the Spanish… well, God knows.”

An unnamed narrator observes 1953:

“Great Britain was less wealthy than it is now, but it was also less complacent, and considerably less useless. It had a sense of humanitarian responsibility and a myth of its own importance that was quixotically true and universally accepted merely because it believed in it… It had not yet acquired the schoolboy habit of for waiting months for permission from Washington before it clambered out of its post-imperial bed, put on its boots, made a sugary cup of tea, and ventured through the door.”

And near the end, a teenage boy compares girls:

“Italian girls were best, and English girls were useless unless inebriated. German girls were technicians, Spanish girls uncontrollable and melodramatic, and French girls were so vain you had to pretend to be in love with them from the start.”


Enchanting Isle - Quotes

“An island so immense in antiquity that the very rocks themselves exhale nostalgia and the red earth lies stupefied not only by the sun, but by the impossible weight of memory.”

More… (no plot spoilers).
Since ancient times, “the island had been a prodigy of wonders” with “a saint unique to itself, and it was as if his numinous power was too great and too effulgent to be contained within himself.”

The Acqui Division “surrendered to its charms, had sunk back into its cushions, closed its eyes and become enclosed in a gentle dream. We forgot to be soldiers.”

“Mountains… ringed to infinity by the churning masses of the sea.”


Other Quotes

“A gibbous moon slid filaments of eerie silver light through the slats of the shutters.”

More… (no plot spoilers).

•t“The extreme vestal chastity of this light.”

•t“Short of words even in his inner speech… a prodigy of slow endurance.” (Alekos, an old goat herd.)

•tAn “anthropomorphised promissory note.” (Father Arsenios.)

•t“The innumerable smiles of the waves”, by Aeschylus, “who obviously never went to sea in the winter”.

•t“It is impossible to escape those monsters that devour us from the inner depths.” The only solution is to wrestle with them, or ignore them.

•t“Symmetry is only a property of dead things” and buildings. “Symmetry is for God, not for us.”

•t“The Morse code of virgin light glancing after the perpetual motion of the waters.”

•t“Unravelling wool that had kinked and interwound upon itself in an attempt to resume the knotted configurations of its former state. Pelagia did not understand why wool should be nostalgic in this way.”

•t“They became lovers in the old-fashioned sense” (chaste, but planning for the future).

•t“His mouth working wordlessly like an improvident fish that a wave has tossed unsuspectingly on a spit of sand.”

•tTanks “perspiring with the inhuman smell of oil and heated steel.”

•t“A night that was made sepulchral by the attenuated and dancing shadows of trees and men that were cast out by the leaping orange pyres.”

•t“The ancient olive… made obeisance to the ground and split cleanly… before springing upright and shaking its branches like a palsied Nazarene.”

•t“I am my own ghost… I have been eaten up like bread… All my happiness was smoke.”

•t“A man who smelled of exactly the correct admixture of virility and aftershave.”

•t“The silent and deserted remains of the little houses that had all the appearance of regret and loneliness.”



Why I read this
In accordance with comment #25: here, I read this and Kevin read Galapagos.


Image source for tragedy/comedy masks:
http://aguera.com.br/wp-content/uploa...

Hate the movie (even though i love Nic Cage) love the book.Last 100 something pages i could not stop crying.Because even though she was rich and comfortable in the end, she was not happy and missing her dad and lover.She was missing the days they were on the edge of dying from hunger because she had loved ones then.Maybe because i was far away from my mom that time it really hit home.