Beautiful ornate writing which is more preoccupied with itself rather than the book.

John Banville é um escritor com uma sensibilidade acima do comum. Os temas retratados são os de outras obras suas, a morte, o amor, a família e suas relações complexas. Mais uma obra brilhante de Banville.

Beautiful writing with unique images throughout -- the best of the images having to do with feelings and emotions, things you recognize and see in a different way through the author's eyes.

The beginning of the novel is a long set-up to a worthy second half that had me reflecting back to the beginning. But I felt much of it was just too much. Many times I wondered what he was getting at with all the descriptions -- I'm sure something, but it wasn't always clear.

This is my first Banville and I'll certainly try him again, as I know he has written more 'famous' books than this one, and he is a wonderful writer.

I've come to the conclusion that Banville is one of those hit-and-miss authors for me.  These are the Banville novels that I really liked (see my reviews here).

Banville, it seems to me, is preoccupied with questions of identity and his novels tend to feature flawed i.e. badly-behaved men, and maybe my tolerance for badly-behaved, self-indulgent narrators is fading, especially when they are unreliable narrators too and even if there are elements of self-parody in the text.   The Cleave Trilogy features an ageing actor called Alexander Cleave, whose story begins in Eclipse with his breakdown on stage.  He takes himself off alone to the long-neglected house he inherited from his mother to sort himself out.  After a lifetime of playing roles on stage, he doesn't know who he is.  He hopes to identify the blastomere of myself, the coiled hot core of all I was and might be.  (Yes, as usual with Banville, you do need a dictionary, even if you think you have an extensive vocabulary.)

Well, the reader can soon see from his unsavoury dreams and tawdry memories that he's a womaniser, though at least two of his liaisons are with females too young to be called 'women'.

He's a stalker too, and he lets slip that it's not just on this occasion so we are left wondering if the other times were less benign than the one he tells us about:

I never do set out wholly consciously to stalk anyone. Rather, I will find myself already on the way, absent-mindedly, as it were, half thinking of something else, yet with my ... my victim, I was about to say, firmly fixed in view.  (p.104

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2024/11/17/e...

“..οι ερωτευμένοι παντρεύτηκαν και τώρα γερνάνε πλάι σε ανθρώπους ξένους
τ' απογέματα σηκώνεται καμιά φορά αγέρας, χτυπούν σαν τύψεις τα παραθυρόφυλλα - για ποιο ωραίο σφάλμα άραγε;
κι η παιδ��κότητα: ένα ουράνιο σχόλιο στο αίνιγμα να υπάρχουμε.
Κι όταν κάποτε φύγω δε θα πάρω μαζί μου παρά λίγο βιολετί απ' το δειλινό κι έν' άστρο από κάποιο παραμύθι”.

Σε αυτό το σπαρακτικά όμορφο και συνειδητοποιημένο βιβλίο του Μπάνβιλ, θολώνεται με υγρασία και μούχλα απο δάκρυα, θαλασσινό αγέρα και καπνούς καμμένων βιβλίων ζωής, η εσωτερική και εξωτερική ύπαρξη ενός ανθρώπου.
Κάθε ανθρώπου.
Όλων των ανθρώπων ή έστω μερικών,
θαραλλέων πολύ και άτολμων συνάμα,
που καταφέρνουν να είναι ζωντανοί χωρίς να ζουν.
Να ερωτεύονται τον θάνατο.
Να βασανίζονται απο παραλυτικές απορίες συσσώρευσης απίστευτου βάρους επιβίωσης,
μέσα απο πλήρη συνειδησιακή υποστήριξη,
μα τώρα,
αυτό το βάρος αβάσταχτο πλέον,
τους εμποδίζει να βρουν την οισία του εαυτού τους,
τώρα πια, αυτή, κρύφτηκε για πάντα, ανάμεσα στα πεταμένα προσωπεία, που τους έδωσαν προοπτική δράσης στη γέννηση και αγαλλίασης στα βαθιά γεράματα.

Είναι οι συντετριμμένοι,
αυτοί μονάχα πονούν όταν στην φωτογραφία του λατρεμένου τους προσώπου πέσει μια σταγόνα βροχής. Σε αυτούς τραγουδάει αποτρόπαια η μοίρα του σύμπαντος.
Είναι άδικη και φθονερή, με τα καταραμένα ιδιαίτερα χαρίσματα που έχει, κάνει χλωμό και αβαρές,
το φως της αρχέγονης αγάπης ανάμεσα σε γονείς και στα πλάσματα που βγήκαν απο τα σπλάχνα τους σημαδεμένα με ολική έκλειψη.

Σε αυτούς παραισθησιακά αλλά και απολύτως συνειδητά,
όταν σκουραίνει η μέρα γίνεται μια μελανιά,
χρωματίζει τις στιγμές τους
και υψώνει σημαία μεσίστια από τον ρεαλισμό. Προμηνύει μόνο πόνο, επαναλαμβανόμενο, εμμονικό και ηδονικό.

Σε όσους μέσα στη σύγχυση και την ανεξήγητη δυσαρέσκεια αναρωτιούνται διαρκώς,
πότε ακριβώς ήρθε η στιγμή της καταστροφικής απροσεξίας,
τότε που έριξαν κάτω το επιχρυσωμένο ,
με το άγνωστο,
ποτήρι της ζωής τους και το άφησαν να σπάσει.

Το μυθιστόρημα αυτό είναι περισσότερο ένα μνημείο, μια στοιχειωμένη ιστορία για κάθε ανθρώπινο πλάσμα που αναζητά τον εαυτό του.
Που ζητάει ραντεβού κάπου ανάμεσα σε φαντασία και πραγματικότητα με την παιδική του ηλικία
και τον τρόμο που ίσως έρχεται απο το μέλλον,
εκεί όπου ψάχνει τα ίχνη του, ξοδεύοντας χρόνο
και δραπετεύοντας απο την ομηρία της ατομικά προσιορισμένης θεσμικά ταυτότητας.

Αν όλα αυτά ακούγονται ασαφή, θαμπά και αφηρημένα, είναι, κατά κάποιον τρόπο.
Υπάρχει ελάχιστη πλοκή με την παραδοσιακή έννοια και όλα τα γεγονότα που συνέβησαν ή συμβαίνουν φιλτράρονται μέσα απο το σακατεμένο μυαλό του πρωταγωνιστή. Ο οποίος αν και έχει πλήρη αυτοσυνείδηση δεν έχει ούτε ρανίδα αυτογνωσίας.

Όταν αποσαφηνίζεται η ιστορία της κόρης του ο ήρωας μας επιδεινώνεται απο κάθε άποψη.
Η στάση του εξ αρχής διατηρεί μια απόσταση απο τα τεκταινόμενα και τελικά μας πείθει με αριστουργηματικό τρόπο πως το σημείο καμπής του βιβλίου δεν είναι καποιο γεγονός που θα μπορούσε να ασκήσει οποιαδήποτε ελεγχόμενη δράση.

Είναι μια ουράνια σύζευξη, μια ηλιακή έκλειψη, μια σύνδεση του σκοταδιού με το φως, της σκιάς με την ουσία, της απόστασης με την απόλυτη σύνδεση.

Ο συμβιβασμός που προσπαθεί να κάνει τον πρωταγωνιστή μας να δεχτεί την ζωή,
οι μοναδικές ιδέες και οι υπερβατικές παρατηρήσεις γίνονται κοινά χαρακτηριστικά όλων μας.

Ποιος αλήθεια ξέρει τι ακριβώς χρειάζεται για να αντέξει η ύπαρξη μας απέναντι σε μια σύντμηση!!

Actor Alexander Cleave (the same Cleave who would reappear in Banville’s later Shroud and Ancient Light, it seems I have read this sequence of Banville books out of publication order) has retired from the stage and gone back to his childhood home. It is somewhat rundown, but holds memories in nearly every room. In it Cleave hears faint sounds and imagines it might be haunted – in fact sees his father one day in a doorway. But it turns out Quirke, the solicitor charged with its care, and his fifteen year-old daughter, Lily, who has been taken on ostensibly as a housekeeper, are living in some of the vacant rooms.


The narrative is almost all Cleave’s musings and remembrances - there is very little dialogue in the novel - yet despite there not being much in the way of plot (the only significant occurrence in the book occurs off the page) Banville readily manages to hold the attention. There is something almost liquid in his sentences, each is perfectly constructed and the word choices are usually immaculate.

The eclipse of the title is both actual (that of 1999 takes place during the course of the novel) but also metaphorical. That significant occurrence is, though, foreshadowed when Cleave says, ‘I have the feeling, the conviction, I can’t rid myself of it, that something has happened, something dreadful, and I haven’t taken sufficient notice, haven’t paid due regard, because I don’t know what it is.’

This is a portrait of a man who has glided through life apparently without it really touching him or he it, only approaching animation when pretending, on the stage, to be someone else, but in the end faced with that “something dreadful” about which nothing can be done. Most lives have at least one of those.

Que escrita maravilhosa.

I personally found it hard to get into and follow, Its like following the train of thought from a character who is all over the place with his thoughts. ( I understand this was the point but it just didn't work for me)

This made all the interesting points in the book a little harder to pinpoint since your not sure whats his dream or reality.

Also one reviewer said this book is like a mess of words thrown together, in a way, I agree.
Its a lot of comparing and explaining and describing in a way that feels sort of messy.

Banville is such an excellent writer that I'm surprised how few people seem to have read him, or how few talk about him. His vocabulary is gorgeous, and I find myself not only writing down words I don't know but also writing down words I do know because he uses them so well. He is somewhat heartless with his readers; there's little consolation to be found, but I can dig that.

i ended up when i had finished this book thinking did i understand this book right! bit confusing i think the way its written but basically i think its a man who is an actor who decides to go back to his late parents home which has been empty and left in the care of an estate agent; it is a time of reflecting on his life then he thinks he sees ghosts but these turn out to be the estate agent and his daughter who has been actually living in the house. the mans wife decides to come down and they try to sort out their marriage which is all the more complicated due to the suicide of their daughter. the actor decides to stay at the house with the daughter of the estate agent if anyone knows of anything else happens or i have got anything wrong do let me know

n  "What is it about the past that makes the present by comparison seem so pallid and weightless?"n

A beautifully lyrical downer. This was emotionally draining and pretty bleak in its outlook on life and humanity, but equally impressed me with its whimsical use of language.

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Eclipse is the story of the fifty-year old actor Alexander Cleaver, who returns to the house where he grew up with his widowed mother. As a child, he encountered the vivid ghost of his father there and now returning to memories of boyhood following a breakdown on stage, he is not surprised to find the place still haunted. Living through the past makes him confront his troubled present as well: from a ruined career and tenuous marriage over to his troubled relationship with an estranged daughter.

Rarely has nostalgia been put into words more powerfully. I'm personally not much of a nostalgic, for I don't see the use of dwelling on the past too much. I see the temptations and the appeal, but also dangers of lingering on things gone for long. The protagonist Alexander might wholeheartedly disagree, for we meet him at a time when he's more than willing to give himself up for the sake of working through what once has been.

n  "Life, life is always a surprise. Just when you think you have got the hang of it, have learned your part to perfection, someone in the cast will take it into her head to start improvising, and the whole damned production will be thrown into disorder."n

Banville's use of words is delicious. It's been a while since I've read anything that made me want to dwell on each sentence for as long as this did. The whole thing feels like a poem – it's extremely prettily written, evoking vivid images and drawing stimulating comparisons on themes of life, loss and memory.

It's just so bleak that I'm not entirely sure what to take away from it. Overlying everything is definitely a sentiment of melancholy, so even though I loved what I was reading, the novel as a whole left me feeling washed out. Alexander isn't a particularly happy fellow and this story, settled somewhere in between fable and ghost story and as I put this down with a bit of a heavy heart, I'm not entirely sure whether I want to read more of Banville's work.

Sure don't get the damn-near deification of this writer! Not so much here; Goodreaders from what I've seen are pretty cool and to each his own in attitude. Elsewhere though I've seen reviewers chided roundly for not loving JB like they must be literarily impaired, and implored to please give him another chance in ways I've never seen in reviews of other highly acclaimed writers. I was not blown away enough by the so-called gorgeousness of the prose to proceed without bearings and at about 20% I gave up.