I have no further comment.
Finis.
But I do!
So I finally got around to reading this thread after finishing the novel a couple of weeks ago, and my, what great reading. Both the book and the thread. Kudos, everyone – with extra gold stars for Peder and Oskylad.
Generally:
The prose? Just beautiful. No point in saying more than that, I think; let's just say I could see the candles, smell the wine, hear the rustling of the leaves.
I don't think the General's calm, well-spoken (though repetitive) speech is strange at all. He's been stuck in here for 40 years, turning this over and over in his head, polishing every single phrase 20,000 times, trying to make sense of it – because as we find out, he already
knows the answers, though he might never have admitted it to himself. All that remains is to get Konrad to admit it; to "kill something in him."
There's a lot of talk about obsession in the later parts of the thread, which is one of the themes that struck me as well – and reminded me of another ex-pat iron curtain escapee. It first struck me while reading the book, especially towards the end when Henrik's monologue really picks up speed; I'm reminded of Humbert's monologue to Quilty at the end of
Lolita. Both characters have appointed themselves judge, jury and executioner for the sake of someone whom neither of them was able to keep (or deserve to keep) – but the blade is directed towards himself at least as much. And also in the sense that this long monologue, where he's had 41 years to try and remember everything, raises the question – just how reliable is he on the details, anyway? He's the one who says Konrad tried to kill him. He admits that he didn't actually see it, but he knows it. Konrad doesn't deny it, but – and correct me if I'm wrong here, I don't have the book here just now – he doesn't confirm it, either. In fact, he refuses to do either. Is he there to be spoken to, or to listen? For his own sake, or for Henrik's? Pontalba posted this quote
The book is really about obsession, grief, and mature acceptance, as well what human beings do with their brief time alive. The how the story unfolds is far more important than what it unfolds.
which could just as well fit Nabokov's book, even if ol' Vlad was even trickier. Similar issues on a base level, approached from different ends of life. Can we ever really know another person? Henrik goes into great detail about what Konrad and Krisztina thought, felt, and did. Does he actually know that, or is he just projecting his own issues?
Obviously, it can be read with allegorical overtones. This is
Kakanian literature written post-1919, after all; not only had the Austro-Hungarian empire been split up, but Hungary itself had been shrunk to roughly half its historic size, with ethnic Hungarians and formerly Hungarian lands suddenly belonging to other countries, and the novel is suffused with loss. Note that Konrad has become a British citizen; the book was written in 1942, in the middle of WWII, where Hungary and Britain were on opposite sides. No wonder a reconciliation between the two is impossible at that point - and no wonder that anti-fascist pro-Hungarian Marai is hesitant to make either character a hero. There's nostalgia, but there's also an awareness of the dangers of nostalgia; the pride keeping Henrik and Krisztina apart; the focus on the past making it impossible to move. Again, obsession.
Its about more than just the Empire collapsing. Its about the collapse of a way of life, a code of honor, a friendship, a marriage - all the things the General held dear. All he has left is a few rooms in his castle, and Nini.
Exactly. Henrik is stuck in his way of thinking; he's the old guard, true to the emperor, the way he was brought up (personified by the woman who brought him up), having given everything to protect the country, the ruler, the way of life that no longer exists outside his walls. He closes the door around that and preserves it – and when he finally opens the door, he has to re-evaluate everything he's kept. The fire has died down; the embers barely manage to burn Krisztina's diary, and the dying candles leave the stage dark. (The fall of the Berlin wall is 50 years away.)
That's not to say it's JUST an allegory, obviously; it seems to me the setting serves the theme more than the other way around. On the other hand, we have the fairly (deceptively?) simple love triangle. Pontalba mentioned the soap opera aspect; in a way, that was the bit that disappointed me – I remember going "Oh come on, please don't let this be about Konrad and Krisztina having an affair." Because it IS old hat and it HAS been done a hundred times, but maybe that's the point. Still, a small disappointment. As is Konrad's woefully underdeveloped story; sure, that's not the point – if the novel is indeed about the General's obsession and almost solipsist in its focus on his perception of what happened, then learning too much about Konrad's POV might actually defeat the point – but still, it would have been nice to get SOME inkling of what goes on in him, why he's here now, etc. In a way, if you strip away what the characters
do over the course of the novel, he's the more interesting character in his own right; he's the one who can look up and see something else than what he's been conditioned, taught to see. He's the one who sees another world. Henrik sees duties; Konrad sees possibilities.
The ending is extremely powerful, despite – or perhaps even because of – the way Marai deftly cheats us out of a big climax; a tearful reunion, pistols at dawn, an angry retort by Konrad,
anything. But that's not the point, is it? The point is Henrik working through it all; the novel doesn't come with any big signs saying "HERE'S THE MORAL", and the ending is just as ambiguous as the blame Henrik throws at Konrad and Krisztina. It's variations, explorations of a theme like in a Chopin sonata, but without a big finale that you can sing along to. Is the general ready to die, or at last ready to live?
There are things about the novel that bug me; the unlikability (is that a word?) of Henrik, which is deliberate but not necessarily enjoyable, the rather predictable soap opera angle (which, again, might all be because the General simply doesn't have the imagination to make up a better story), the lack of insight into the other characters... but a very strong
nevertheless. I enjoyed it. Maybe that's the point.
, I think it was all about the General, how it took him all those years to come to terms and explain ,more for himself than anyone else that he was betrayed by both his best friend, and wife.
