For
my comments on Justine, Balthazar, and Mountolive,
the first three books of the
Alexandria Quartet, follow the respective links.
I've
been looking forward to Clea since I finished Justine.
I felt it would be my favorite. I was sure it would have the most to
offer and be the most substantial in the series. My immediate
thought after finishing this book has to be nothing other than, “God
damn. There's a lot of exclamation marks in this book....”
The
war, which was always in the background and even in Clea never
gets main character treatment, is finally such a big deal that it has
to get more than merely casual mention as it had in previous entries.
Darley, the narrator of Justine, is back as narrator in Clea.
He has to come back to Alexandria, and his return is marked by death
all around him: as in warships are actively bombing the city as he
makes his entrance. Its the same intangible, beautiful rambling
narrative and lack of concrete substance that he gives in Justine.
Even while the city is being strategically shelled Darley's general
oblivion is held in perfect tact. The gravity of the matter is only
felt by the reader; why? Because everything we love about the
previous experience of reading three books is embodied in the city
and all the people too. The city under fire works so well but Durell
never indulged it. It was just a thing in the background—we don't
read this book for epic descriptions of war. But the next morning
characters noticed rubble in the streets, inaccessibility of certain
roads, and people died. He in no way painted the picture but he damn
sure sold it to me. Lastly, the juxtaposition of everyday life in
the city: the call to worship; fishing in the harbor; nightlife, in
contrast with the war kinda caused an internal struggle between
'everything is gonna be okay,' and all the drama the actual
characters stirred up. Enough of the war and the city; on to the
good parts...
In
Clea, we see exactly how much of certain characters lives we
missed in Mountolive; Justine's had a stroke, Nessim lost an
eye and a finger, both are on house arrest and aren't free travel
about the city (as if Nessim could be held down). The perfect couple
has fallen but I never thought Justine could be a such a bitch,
especially not in Darley's eyes! She even defends herself to Darley
saying she lied but he lied to himself in deifying her. She's not
only bitter, but defeatist, which is kind of a shocker considering...
ya know... the other three books....
Oh,
and if ever I was gonna have a fictional dad it would be Nessim.
Just saying.
There's
is a lot going on, and I don't feel bad saying that it took me some
time away from the book after having finished it to say so. Everyone
who remained behind is falling apart: badly. Justine, Nessim, even
Bathazar. His teeth, his terrible and ill-advised love with an
actor, he went full cray with the 'drunk, drugs, and brothels' bit.
A large part of him also enjoyed suffering; if not that then the
being made to endure his self-inflicted wounds. (I'm not gonna talk
about periodontal disease right now, but yeah... that too.) I'd go
so far as to say 'endurance' is a theme for all the characters that
stayed behind. Darley retreated and found some measure of internal
peace; everyone else in Alexandria has further flipped their shit (I
mean seriously; Scoobie “El Yacoub” has been made a saint, and I
even believe it!) which is saying something considering the mental
constitution of some of the characters from the start. If you've read
Justine, and one should most certainly be strictly doctrinaire
when reading this particular series, think of how nutso it is to say
Darley of all people is the normal person and everyone else is the
train wreck. Yeah, that's where we are...
I
felt in Clea there was more to concretely dislike than any in
other book in the series. Pursewarden, a voice I most truly felt to
be that of the author's, trivialized Justin's rape; even went so far
as to say in as many words that she enjoyed it—then he defended his
comments. I also felt Durrell just got a bit lazy from time to time.
“The
Alexandrians still moved inside the murex-tinted cycloram of the life
they imagined. (“Life is more complicated than we think, yet far
simpler than anyone dares to imagine.”) pg 65
Those
are two very fine sentences but I do wish that the primary characters
were experiencing those things first hand than the recap. If only
because Darley is the narrator and that was how such details were
given in Justine. There is also a supremely heavy
over-reliance on Pursewarden; a character that died in the previous
book. He is quoted on seemingly every page. The air of,
“Pursewarden said...” is likened to the teachings of Mohamed or
Jesus as being recited by the Holy. As if by quoting him the speaker
admits to wanting to have lived or live the most messed up life
ever... If the dude had to be such a force in the book—such a
necessary force—then don't kill him; or write a new character to
take his place or just finish the series.
I
think we can add anti-Semite to the list of bad things as well.
Durell
loves to rhapsodize about 'art, writing, and style,” usage and
definition of each that to me were tedious from the start and they he
only kept going. All were done from the dead voice of Pursewarden.
Similar points had been made before but done better as they had
previously served to further then narrative. In the “Brother Ass,”
Chapter (that I'm sure the author felt would be remembered by history
in the same light as “The Grand Inquisitor”) Purewarden, Durell,
is being self-indulgent peacock puffing out his chest and tail
feathers. The “Great Stylist,” is begging for compliments after
bashing other prominent English writers to set himself apart. It was
exhausting and more than once I considered skipping that chapter and
upon completion of the book don't feel I'd have been any worse for
the wear should I have done so.
I'm
sure it all made mathematical clarity to Durell but many of his
“points” are ramblings with no real meaning that get lost in
length and intentionally (artistically; perhaps?) nebulous prose.
“The
sexual and the creative energy go hand in hand. They convert into
one another—the solar sexual and the lunar spiritual holding an
eternal dialogue. They ride the spiral of time together. They
embrace the whole of the human motive. The truth is only to be found
in our own entrails—the truth of Time. Pg 141.
Seriously?
What does he think he's saying in the above?
If
I'm to be wholly honest—which I hate doing—I had no idea I
actually liked this book until I wrote this commentary.... And, of
course, it should go without saying that that goes for the series as
well. It doesn't really work; it's not supposed to; it's anything
but traditional. It's also not perfect. It's really really good.
