Captain Corelli's Mandolin: Louis De Bernieres

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I liked how little I knew about this book before I read it, so I won't say too much in the way of plot. The characters are delightful and complicated, and the glimpses you get of the non-main characters are intoxicating. De Bernieres provides priceless description and personification of non-humans, including various animal species, musical instruments, and countries. The book comments on politics in a thoughtful way, but doesn't oversimplify or beat you over the head with anything.

A pamphlet appears on Cephalonia one day that makes fun of Mussolini and all the ways in which he's hypocritical and absurd. Corelli isn't charmed, though Carlo and Dr. Iannis are. Pelagia suggests that given the syntax, the pamphlet could've been written by conspiring Greeks and Italians, but when she sees her father and Carlo's reaction to this, she thinks they're stupid. A few days later, Corelli wakes up with a hangover, argues with Pelagia about his role in the war, and begins to compose "Pelagia's March."

By the second chapter, I had the distinct impressions that this was one of those gems of a book that should not ever, ever, ever be made into a movie, ever. For perspective, I feel this way about Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and do not feel it about Lord of the Rings. The problem with these "feelings" is that I won't ever be able to investigate them, because if I read a book like this I will categorically refuse to see the movie for fear of ruining the book, and if I see the movie first, I probably won't ever know. The book's ebullient varieties of speech and narrative make it tempting to call it a "polyphonic novel". The term was invented by the Russian literary theorist Mikhail Bakhtin in the 1920s to describe Dostoevsky's fiction. Bakhtin praised Dostoevsky for rendering "a plurality of unmerged voices and consciousnesses". He had in mind the novelist's willingness to allow his characters' words and attitudes to predominate over any authorial insights. (Would Captain Corelli's Mandolin always qualify by this test? De Bernières's novel includes passages where a narrator tells us things -such as future events - that none of his characters can know.) Bakhtin initially claimed that Dostoevsky had originated "a fundamentally new novelistic genre", before later deciding that he had instead perfected what had always been a subversive inclination of most interesting fiction. EDIT: changed because my friends thought my analysis was a bit pretentious. Left it below for reference. Basically, Greek woman sleeps with Italian officer in the time of fascism. Goes about as well as you would expect. The Greek doctor Dr. Iannis attempts to write an impartial history of his island, Cephalonia. However, he finds he cannot do so without getting angry about the numerous Greek conquests, so he amends his title to read "A Personal History of Cephalonia." In the village, his daughter Pelagia falls in love with a young fisherman named Mandras. They get engaged in August on the feast day of St. Gerasimos, but Pelagia is unhappy about it. Dr. Iannis refuses to provide a dowry, suggests Mandras is too uneducated to appreciate Pelagia, and counsels that they should wait to get married until after the war. Dr. Iannis spends most of his time at the kapheneia with his friends Stamatis and Kokolios, who are royalist and communist respectively. Though they used to fight about politics, as the war moves towards Greece, the three band together for the sake of their country. Dr. Iannis also adopts a pine marten that the child Lemoni names Psipsina.

Makis Faraklos, now the 76-year-old president of the resistance veterans’ association in the Cephalonian town of Lixouri, remembers witnessing the fate of some of those whom de Bernières insists spent the German occupation doing nothing. “On June 5, 1944, the Germans hanged five resistance members in the main square because the andartes had killed a collaborator. They forced everyone they found on the streets to go there and set up four machine guns around us. One of the five, Dionisis Ratsiatos, was my teacher - I loved that man. There was a father and son, Gavrilis and Vasilis Rallatos, and the father was forced to watch his son hanged twice, because the rope broke the first time they strung him up. They hanged them from two trees. The youngest to die that day was Spiros Analitis, in his early 20s. The German commander announced through an interpreter that he would be freed if he gave information about the resistance. Analitis didn’t reply, but called to the crowd, ‘You, tyranny-fighting youth, will avenge our deaths.’ “ Early one morning, Alekos the goatherd notices an angel falling from the sky. Alekos nurses the injured angel for two days before leading it to Dr. Iannis's house. Dr. Iannis discovers that the angel is actually a British spy, Bunnios, who speaks ancient Greek.It is a novel not just of different narrative voices and points of view, but also of different languages. It uses fragments of Italian, French, German (and transliterated Greek), but mostly it has to represent the different languages, and the mutual misunderstandings, of the characters in a language that none of them are using: English. (Though if Iannis and his daughter were not fluent in Italian, a language for which the doctor has always had an inflated regard, and therefore able to have all their disputes with Corelli, the novel would not have been possible.) Incomprehension is invariably comical. An Eton-educated British agent is introduced to Iannis and made to speak a Chaucerian English that is the novel's equivalent of the classical Greek he employs. "Sire, of youre gentillesse, by the leve of yow wol I speke in pryvetee of certeyn thyng," is his opening gambit. "What?" replies the bewildered doctor, speaking in a fluent, colloquial English which is the novel's equivalent of modern Greek. When he and the Englishman agree to converse in English, Iannis's speech becomes broken and ungrammatical: "You accent terrible-terrible. Not to talk, understand?" Different voices find many forms. There are letters; there are political diatribes; there are speeches and sermons. Equally, the chapters of third-person narrative reflect many different viewpoints. Most often we see events through the eyes of Iannis, or Pelagia, or Corelli, but free indirect style gives us the thoughts of many others, from Mina, the mad girl who is to be "cured" by Saint Gerasimos, to Lieutenant Weber, the "good Nazi", confused by the habits of his Italian allies. The collection of narratives is made to enact an understanding of human variety. On the feast day of St Gerasimos, patron saint of the Greek island of Cephalonia, the mummified remains of the holy man are paraded and the islanders become "outlandishly drunk". (The first detail from Louis de Bernières's Captain Corelli's Mandolin is confirmed by the Greek tourist board; the latter is the novelist's embellishment.) In the novel, troupes from different towns loudly strike up rival songs, some fishermen from Panago-poula miraculously managing, over the chatter of the crowd and the crashing of a cannon, to weave "a harmony intricate and polyphonic". "The brotherhood of the sea," declares the narrator, in imitation of the fishermen's bibulous self-congratulation, has produced "conclusive proof of their metaphysical unity".