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Balthazar by Lawrence Durrell
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Balthazar (original 1958; edition 1969)

by Lawrence Durrell (Author)

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1,029138,234 (3.89)39
Member:benwaugh
Title:Balthazar
Authors:Lawrence Durrell (Author)
Info:Pocket (1969), paperback.
Collections:Literature, Your library, Books
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Tags:literature, english_literature, 20th_century, redonda, 1015

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Balthazar by Lawrence Durrell (1958)

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Owen Meany told John, who had just finished Justine, that the rest of the Alexandria Quartet was just more of the same. Yep. It's good, but currently I want to listen to nonfiction.
  ljhliesl | May 21, 2013 |
WARNING: There is no possible way of crafting an in-depth review of the book in question without giving away major aspects of the plot and therefore it would be unwise for those who haven’t read the book to proceed any further.

Balthazar, published in 1958, represents a change of angle rather than a direct continuation of the events of Justine. The narrator’s gaze is fixed upon the past once again and so in this novel Durrell sets out to create the story over, divulging new information that entirely changes the history of the narrator’s love affair with Justine.

The novel begins exactly as the last one did, on the lonely Greek island the narrator (later on revealed to go by the name of Darley) now contents himself with, raising Melissa’s child and watching the mail packet go by every week. He claims to have put Alexandria away, sealing it and its figures into a story, the Justine manuscript. Having sent it to Balthazar, it is returned to him stuffed with margin notes, details unknown to Darley and so begins the task of assimilating them. Though set in a series of standardized chapters where Justine drifted elliptically within three parts, Balthazar still has a loose, unmoored quality you’ll recognise from the first book.

The greatest difference between the two novels is therefore the quietly ruminative aspect of Balthazar. In design, Justine coalesced from nothing, growing in intensity until the murderous culmination on the shores of Mareotis; Balthazar, by contrast, meanders through individual setpieces such as a masked ball, Nessim’s visit home or the dysfunctional relationship between Pursewarden and Justine. It fills in gaps in the original narrative and Darley spends much of this novel in the grips of uncertainty - whether deception ever ends, whether honesty is even possible.

There is still drama, passion and incident but the overall feeling upon conclusion is of a much slower and more contemplative story, breaking down the order Darley was so intent to impose upon his past. Questions arise of moral motivation and Balthazar says ‘It is wiser perhaps not to make a judgement.’ Yet Darley observes "It is easy for me to criticise now that I see a little further into the truth of her predicament and my own." Thus the twin narrative contrasts the dispassionate and clinical approach of Balthazar with the baffled hurt Darley must now account for all over again. It forms a fascinating companion piece (I could almost describe it as the ghost of Book One) though it does lack something of the oh-so-satisfying ‘dramatic’ design of Justine.

The biggest revealment comes early on when Balthazar announces that Justine was actually in love with Pursewarden and Darley was just a decoy. On the tail of this information, the whole affair becomes even more crushingly futile than it seemed the first time round. To protect Pursewarden from her husband’s potentially dangerous jealousy, Justine involved and needlessly hurt several extraneous people – all for a ploy of no use in view of Pursewarden’s suicide. This helps to expand the lens of a La Rondeian love affair, as Schnitzler’s play was a simple circle and Durrell goes far beyond that in complexity. His cast of lovers are intertwined in a cruelly elaborate lacework and as more intricacies are revealed and the death toll creeps a little bit higher what most astonishes me is Durrell’s continued feat of avoiding the most dire melodrama – by revealing things out of step, by beginning each volume slowly, using careful observance and exquisite language, in all ways offering the reader time to acclimatize.

My lengthy hiatus between volumes led me to newly discover the remarkable deftness with which Durrell portrays the women involved, each rendered with sympathetic exactitude and leaving me stunned with the resonance of lines such as these: "Poor fool, she was not spared anything in the long catalogue of self-deceptions which constitute a love-affair. She tried to fall back on other pleasures, to find that none existed. She knew that the heart wearies of monotony, that habit and despair are the bedfellows of love, and she waited patiently, as a very old woman might, for the flesh to outgrow its promptings, to deliver itself from an attachment which she now recognised was not of her seeking. Waited in vain. Each day she plunged deeper." It is a strange balance between sympathy and cynicism which illuminates the whole cast.

I would say that this is in every way an equal accomplishment to the first book and so it is only my own personal preference that views Balthazar as slightly less compelling than Justine. Partly because of the mellow and more philosophical style mentioned above and also due to the lack of Melissa, my favorite character, so neglected and meek that she could have walked out of a Victor Hugo novel. She’s scarcely mentioned and focus is moved elsewhere: To Pursewarden, an enigmatic specimen even after pages of Balthazar’s recollections and, alas, something of a stuffed dummy allowing Durrell to air his views on the art of the writer. I might say that Darley and Arnauti were more than enough on that subject and yet that would be to misunderstand the genre at work here, as Durrell was clearly a 20th Century decadent - with all the delightful annoyances that come with the turf, including a tendency to authorial intrusion.

Other new characters coming to light include Nessim’s simple and unsophisticated brother Narouz, caught in the grips of an unrequited love; Leila, mother of Nessim, a proud and educated Egyptian turned hermit after the disfigurement of smallpox; Toto de Brunel, a most foolish murder victim; Amaril the excessively romantic doctor; John Keats the journalist, always showing up where he’s not wanted… Durrell does not give equal time to all members of the cast (new or old), aiding along a sense of realism as the characters go about their own lives, casually drifting in and out of the narrative as they become more or less important. Also, the extra characters and connections facilitate a sense of conspiracy and the shady world of politics begins to emerge from the text. In Justine the subject was treated as a jest, what with Scobie’s Secret Service. Mountolive is allegedly the political movement of this quartet and if so, then Durrell used Book Two to ease the way from farcical to serious.

Most of the time, Balthazar is a sad and melancholy work of art – so finely drawn it is a joy to read and yet at the same time it brings with it a sense of agony at the suffering so continually expressed by the cast. Darley’s dislike of himself shines through, particularly in the first half of the book, while still reeling at the new light cast by Balthazar. With the certainty of Justine’s love gone, he becomes the more bitterly cynical about the past. Only Pombal remains unscathed and helps (along with Scobie) to provide comic relief. In fact, one thing I’ve never heard said of Durrell or the Quartet is that he’s got a sense of humour on display but he most assuredly does. There is Pombal with his ridiculous trouble with women, growing a moustache to try to ward them off, and Scobie with his salty, slangy storytelling:

"He looked archly at me round his pipe and suddenly cheered up. He began one of those delightful rambling monologues – another chapter in the saga he had composed around his oldest friend, the by now mythical Toby Mannering. ‘Toby was once Driven Medical by his excesses – I think I told you. No? Well, he was. Driven Medical.’ He was obviously quoting and with relish. ‘Lord how he used to go it as a young man. Stretched the limit in beating the bounds. Finally he found himself under the Doctor, had to wear an Appliance.’ His voice rose by nearly an octave. ‘He went about in a leopard-skin muff when he had shore leave until the Merchant Navy rose in a body. He was put away for six months. Into a Home. They said, “You’ll have to have Traction” – whatever that is. You could hear him scream all over Tewkesbury, so Toby says. They say they cure you but they don’t. They didn’t him at any rate. After a bit, they sent him back. Couldn’t do anything with him. He was afflicted with Dumb Insolence, they said. Poor Toby!’

Such moments offer relief from the grim heartbreak, philosophical thrashing and disillusionment that are the main themes of the text. To have a little humour balanced so carefully throughout helps to shore up my sense that on completion I will be able to pronounce The Alexandria Quartet one of the greatest accomplishments of 20th Century literature.

Onwards now to Mountolive.

http://pseudointellectualreviews.wordpress.com/2013/02/22/balthazar-lawrence-dur... ( )
  nymith | Feb 22, 2013 |
The abridged version of events will be difficult to understand without a summary knowledge of what happened in “Justine,” so please read my review of that novel, the “sibling companion” of “Balthazar,” for a fuller appreciation of both. This review also gives away plot spoilers for both.

“Balthazar” continues the narrative started in the first volume of the Alexandria Quartet, “Justine.” This time, we read of many of the events recounted in “Justine” from another perspective, that of the psychiatrist Balthazar, who unceremoniously disrupts and complicates our understanding of the events in “Justine.” A few years after the events, the narrator, whose name we finally learn is Darley, has moved to an island with the child that Melissa has had with Nessim. Here, Balthazar drops off what he refers to as his “interlinear,” (a literary recounting of previous events from his point of view) that Darley spends much of the novel reading and meditating upon. His account completely undermines Darley’s understanding, telling him that Justine was really in love with the novelist Pursewarden, and just used him as a decoy to cheat on her husband. And we read about Scobie, a mutual friend of almost everyone in the book, including Clea, Justine, Melissa, and Darley, who is killed while in drag, possibly trying to pick up sailor for a trick.

In “Balthazar,” Durrell draws the reader to the meta-fictional aspects of the story in at least two ways. His account completely reconfigures Darley’s understanding of events in the previous volume, telling him that Justine was really in love with the novelist Pursewarden, and just used him as a decoy to cheat on her husband. In this sense, Balthazar’s “interlinear” almost serves to turn the entire narrative into a series of suspect, but all equally likely, Rashomon-like perspectival takes, without any single one being allowed to be account for the entire truth. Durrell also uses Pursewarden as a kind of a novelist-cipher to shed light on the plight of the novelist – or, more broadly, the artist’s – task. This ambiguity, which can at times seem heavy-handed, seems to mirror much of what Durrell is really saying about love, and especially erotic relationships in general: that they are a series of shadows, lies, deceptions, and figments of our own fragile imaginations. As with the first volume, the language is stunning, so just as in the first review, I’d like to end with a bit of what I’m talking about – those wonderful ambiguities and mysteries which so wholly constitute Alexandria and its residents for Durrell:

“I feel I want to sound a note of … affirmation – though not in the specific terms of a philosophy or religion. It should have the curvature of an embrace, the wordlessness of a lover’s code. It should convey some feeling that the world we live in is founded in something too simple to be over-described as cosmic law – but as easy to grasp as, say, an act of tenderness, simple tenderness in the primal relation between animal and plant, rain and soil, seed and trees, man and God. A relationship so delicate that it is all too easily broken by the inquiring mind and conscience in the French sense which of course has its own rights and its own field of deployment. I’d like to think of my work simply as a cradle in which philosophy could rock itself to sleep, thumb in mouth. What do you say to this? After all, this is not simply what we most need in the world, but really what describes the state of pure process in it. Keep silent awhile you feel a comprehension of this act of tenderness – not power or glory: and certainly not Mercy, that vulgarity of the Jewish mind which can only imagine man as crouching under the whip. No, for the sort of tenderness I mean is utterly merciless!” (p. 238). ( )
  kant1066 | Nov 6, 2012 |
again the poetry remains. what amazes me about this work is that durrell was able to continue those same themes over from justine yet still keep them vibrant and fresh. i was wondering what else could be added to justine, what other piece (let alone 250 pages of pieces) could add another dimension to such a perfect novel. all apprehensions were quickly undone as i read the first few chapters. i felt just as blown away by the revelations as the "i" was. i felt his pain in a very real way. some of the quotes in this work have been bouncing around in my brain and have worked their way out into conversation. specifically "we live by selected fictions" and "we live in the shallows of one another's personalities." these and several others like them are shaping the way i see the world. bravo!!! ( )
  Rocky_Wing | Aug 18, 2011 |
With [Balthazar] Lawrence Durrell turns the entire story he told in [Justine] on its head, re-visiting the events of Darley’s life from a new point of view.

Balthazar, an enigmatic and eccentric psychiatrist, is the close friend of all of the interested parties, Darley, [Justine]’s narrator; Justine, Darley’s obsession; Nessim, Justine’s husband; and Melissa, the sad prostitute with whom Darley also has an affair. Balthazar visits Darley, bringing a copy of Darley’s manuscript marked and annotated with information that was hidden from Darley. In reading Balthazar’s marginalia, Darley learns that he was completely wrong about everything that happened to him, principally about Justine’s motivations and feelings for him.

In an author’s note, Durrell wrote of his purpose in writing the [Alexandria Quartet] in this way:

“The characters and situations in this novel, the second of a group should be considered a sibling, not a sequel to [Justine]... Three sides of space and one of time constitute the soup-mix recipe of a continuum. The four novels follow this pattern. The three first parts, however, are to be deployed spatially...and are not linked in a serial form. They interlap, interweave, in a purely spatial relation. Time is stayed. The fourth part alone will represent time and be a true sequel...."

With this new installment, everything considered settled by the first novel is in doubt as seen from Balthazar’s perspective; a new angle of view on the same story prism. The complexity infused in Durrell’s narrative makes for an even more intriguing story, and characters that sometimes seemed toneless now ring with contradiction and interest.

Bottom Line: An intriguing and satisfying companion to Durrell’s earlier [Justine]; the same story as seen from a completely different angle; characters with even more flesh on their bones.

4 bones!!!! ( )
  blackdogbooks | Aug 4, 2011 |
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The mirror sees the man as beautiful, the mirror loves the man; another mirror sees the mas as frightful and hates him; and it is always the same being who produces the impressions.

D.A.F de Sade: Justine
Yes, we insist upon those details, you veil them with a decency which removes all their edge of horror; there remains only what is useful to whoever wishes to become familiar with man; you have no conception how helpful these these tableaux are to the development of the human spirit; perhaps we are still so benighted with respect to this branch of learning only because of the stupid restraint of those who wish to write upon such matters. Inhabited by absurd fears, they only discuss the puerilities with which every fool is familiar and dare not, by turning a bold hand to the human heart, offer its gigantic idiosyncrasies to our view.
D.A.F. de Sade: Justine
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To

MY MOTHER

these memorials of an unforgotten city
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Landscape-tones: brown to bronze, steep skyline, low cloud, pearl ground with shadowed oyster and violet reflections.
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Darley, an exiled Irish schoolteacher, visits the psychiatrist Balthazar in an attempt to unravel his obsession with two women, Justine and Melissa.

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