Norman Douglas (1) (1868–1952)
Author of South Wind
For other authors named Norman Douglas, see the disambiguation page.
About the Author
Author Norman Douglas was born in Austria on December 8, 1868 and was educated in England, Germany, and France. In 1893, he joined the British Foreign Office and worked as a diplomat in Russia and Italy. He left the service in 1896 apparently as the result of an indiscreet love affair. He wrote show more numerous travel books and his only popular success was the novel South Wind, published in 1917. He died in 1952. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
Image credit: Pilaff Bey alias Norman Douglas
Works by Norman Douglas
Footnote on Capri 7 copies
The Haunted Cove 2 copies
Respectful ribaldry : a selection of letters from Norman Douglas to Faith Compton Mackenzie (2008) 2 copies
One day 2 copies
Unprofessional tales 1 copy
The angel of Manfredonia 1 copy
Goût de l'espace : letters of Oscar Levy to Norman Douglas and a selection of letters from Douglas to Levy (2010) 1 copy
South wind. Volume 1 1 copy
South wind. Volume 2 1 copy
Zuidenwind / Druk 1 1 copy
Associated Works
Then and Now. A Selection of Articles, Stories & Poems, Taken from the First Fifty Numbers of ‘Now & Then’, 1921–35. Together with Some Illustrations, etc. (1935) — Contributor — 2 copies
American Aphrodite: A Quarterly for the Fancy-Free (Volume 1, Number 4) (1951) — Contributor — 2 copies
Contact collection of contemporary writers — Contributor — 1 copy
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Legal name
- Douglas, George Norman
- Other names
- Bey, Pilaff
Normyx - Birthdate
- 1868-12-08
- Date of death
- 1952-02-07
- Gender
- male
- Education
- Gymnasium, Karlsruhe, Germany
Uppingham School, Uppingham, Rutland, England, UK - Occupations
- novelist
essayist
diplomat - Relationships
- Orioli, Giuseppe (partner and publisher)
- Short biography
- His last words: "Get those fucking nuns away from me."
Norman Douglas (1868-1952) was born in Austria and educated in England, Germany and France. Much of his life was spent in exile, in Italy and the south of France. His first work, Siren Land, was published in 1911, followed by Fountains in the Sand (1912) and Old Calabria (1915). Publication of his most famous novel, South Wind, in 1917 established his reputation as one of the foremost writers of his generation. Douglas returned briefly to England in 1942 but spent the last five years of his life on Capri, where he died after a long illness. Though his life was surrounded by controversy, Douglas's prose reflected an elegance and beauty acclaimed by critics. His novels and travel books are now widely regarded as classics. - Nationality
- UK
- Birthplace
- Thuringia, Austria
- Places of residence
- Thuringia, Austria
Tilquhillie, Deeside, Scotland, UK
Capri, Italy
Naples, Italy
Florence, Italy
London, England, UK (show all 7)
St Petersburg, Russian Empire - Place of death
- Capri, Italy
- Burial location
- Cimitero acattolico, Capri, Italy
- Map Location
- Austria
Members
Reviews
Mr Heard, an Anglican bishop returning to England from his African diocese, stops off for a few weeks on the pleasant Mediterranean island of Nepenthe, a fictitious Italian outpost that might easily be confused with Sicily. Despite the enthusiastic cult of two local saints, Eulalia and Dodekanus, whose unlikely careers are still nothing like as extraordinary as those of the real saints Douglas describes in Old Calabria, and the efforts of the formidable parocco (called "Torquemada" by his show more rival, the worldly Mgr Francesco), it's very obvious that the old gods have a lot more to say here than those of any new-fangled Judeo-Christian religions, and the colourful expat community of art-lovers, alcoholics and fugitives from justice are more than a little affected by the general atmosphere of paganism too, especially when the Sirocco blows from Africa (as it almost invariably does). Murders and mysterious disappearances are almost incidental to the feeling of being outside the normal responsibilities of life that the island induces.
The mood of this bit of pre-WWI escapism is somewhere between E.M. Forster and Ronald Firbank: lots of erudite conversations about art and culture, lots of jokes about English and Italian national characteristics, not quite serious enough for the one or frivolous enough for the other. But very entertaining. show less
The mood of this bit of pre-WWI escapism is somewhere between E.M. Forster and Ronald Firbank: lots of erudite conversations about art and culture, lots of jokes about English and Italian national characteristics, not quite serious enough for the one or frivolous enough for the other. But very entertaining. show less
Before reading this, all I knew of Norman Douglas was a vague idea of him as one of the last of the great Edwardian reprobates, famous for his talent for hopping over a succession of frontiers just in time to avoid (sex) scandals, regarded in his later life as one of the cultural monuments of Capri (together with Gracie Fields and William Walton).
[Old Calabria], published in 1915, purports to be an account of one journey through Southern Italy, but it soon becomes clear that Douglas must show more have visited the area several times between about 1908 and 1912 (there are few mentions of external events, but he does talk about the Messina earthquake and the Albanian rebellion).
There is no attempt to cultivate the spontaneous “diary-style” later popularised by Robert Byron: it's the kind of travel book that wears its erudition with pride, and was obviously put together not merely in one library, but in a whole succession of them. Douglas refers to, and quotes from, not only the classical authors and recent travel writers you might expect, but also all manner of obscure 17th and 18th century local historians. Douglas clearly takes an especial pleasure in lives of local saints, the more implausible the better. There's a whole chapter devoted to an obscure flying Franciscan, and another to a saint who devoted much of his time to the useful art of resurrecting deceased eels.
But Douglas isn't just interested in history and religion: there are long discussions of problems like malaria, deforestation, crime and the failures of the Italian justice system. There's a chapter about a 17th century play that might have inspired [Paradise lost]. A discussion of Pythagoras leads to a long aside on the intellectual weakness resulting from too much indulgence in the kind of soft, anti-scientific thought that comes from Pythagoras and Plato (a weakness he specifically accuses the English of being prone to). So it's definitely not a journey for cissies. But you shouldn't let that put you off. Most of the names he drops are so obscure that he clearly doesn't expect his readers to be able to pick them up, and you can make sense of most things without having heard of them. The style is a bit Edwardian, but it's still extremely readable. Somewhere about halfway between Ruskin and Oscar Wilde, perhaps, if you can imagine that. Fiercely intelligent and erudite, but with a waspish delight in teasing the reader’s expectations.
On the more prosaic side, there's a lot of very perceptive observation of local people and habits. Some obvious prejudices, of course, but not as many as you might expect from someone of his class and period. He likes to complain about the discomforts of travelling, and is often very funny when he does, but he's also realistic about what to expect, and makes the best of what he can find. He knows he's in an area where there are no roads to speak of, few hotels and fewer travellers, and many places are so poor that there is simply no food that anyone can sell him. He has a lot of fun playing the game where he has to let the locals cheat him exactly enough to satisfy their own self-respect, but not so much that they despise him. By the sound of it, even more fun when the local doing the cheating is a saucy young man with Hellenic good looks... show less
[Old Calabria], published in 1915, purports to be an account of one journey through Southern Italy, but it soon becomes clear that Douglas must show more have visited the area several times between about 1908 and 1912 (there are few mentions of external events, but he does talk about the Messina earthquake and the Albanian rebellion).
There is no attempt to cultivate the spontaneous “diary-style” later popularised by Robert Byron: it's the kind of travel book that wears its erudition with pride, and was obviously put together not merely in one library, but in a whole succession of them. Douglas refers to, and quotes from, not only the classical authors and recent travel writers you might expect, but also all manner of obscure 17th and 18th century local historians. Douglas clearly takes an especial pleasure in lives of local saints, the more implausible the better. There's a whole chapter devoted to an obscure flying Franciscan, and another to a saint who devoted much of his time to the useful art of resurrecting deceased eels.
But Douglas isn't just interested in history and religion: there are long discussions of problems like malaria, deforestation, crime and the failures of the Italian justice system. There's a chapter about a 17th century play that might have inspired [Paradise lost]. A discussion of Pythagoras leads to a long aside on the intellectual weakness resulting from too much indulgence in the kind of soft, anti-scientific thought that comes from Pythagoras and Plato (a weakness he specifically accuses the English of being prone to). So it's definitely not a journey for cissies. But you shouldn't let that put you off. Most of the names he drops are so obscure that he clearly doesn't expect his readers to be able to pick them up, and you can make sense of most things without having heard of them. The style is a bit Edwardian, but it's still extremely readable. Somewhere about halfway between Ruskin and Oscar Wilde, perhaps, if you can imagine that. Fiercely intelligent and erudite, but with a waspish delight in teasing the reader’s expectations.
On the more prosaic side, there's a lot of very perceptive observation of local people and habits. Some obvious prejudices, of course, but not as many as you might expect from someone of his class and period. He likes to complain about the discomforts of travelling, and is often very funny when he does, but he's also realistic about what to expect, and makes the best of what he can find. He knows he's in an area where there are no roads to speak of, few hotels and fewer travellers, and many places are so poor that there is simply no food that anyone can sell him. He has a lot of fun playing the game where he has to let the locals cheat him exactly enough to satisfy their own self-respect, but not so much that they despise him. By the sound of it, even more fun when the local doing the cheating is a saucy young man with Hellenic good looks... show less
"Alone" is only nominally a travel book. Douglas does tell you where he's going, and what you're likely to see if you follow his lead, but he frequently abandons you to describe his own thoughts, which tend to anecdote and social commentary. In the chapter "Viareggio" he discusses snakes and lizards, and eulogizes the author Ouida, who died here in 1908, with whom he often corresponded. In Olevano he shares a local tale about bears, and marks the harsh toll of war [WWI] on the lives of those show more left behind. In Valmontone we meet an overheated pig, and he searches for evidence of Athena's temple. In Soriano he seeks out authentic macaroni and discusses taxidermy and Peruvian mummies. In Pisa he takes a forlorn view of the Arno:
"In the hour of evening, under a wintry sky amid whose darkly massed vapours a young moon is peering down upon this maddened world, I wander alone through deserted roadways towards that old solitary brick-tower. Here I stand, and watch the Arno rolling its sullen waves. In Pisa, at such an hour, the Arno is the emblem of Despair. Swollen with melted snow from the mountains, it has gnawed its miserable clay banks and now creeps along, leaden and inert, half-solid, like a torrent of liquid mud -- irresolute whether to be earth or water; whether to stagnate here forever at my feet, or crawl onward yet another league into the sea."
Norman Douglas is an egoist of a high order, a writer with a clear, unselfconscious style, a skeptic, a hedonist, an epicure, an anti-vulgarian, and other states of being pleasant and unpleasant. He is indifferent to your presence, yet convivial, he is knowledgeable without pretension or condescension, curious, critical, and amusing. show less
"In the hour of evening, under a wintry sky amid whose darkly massed vapours a young moon is peering down upon this maddened world, I wander alone through deserted roadways towards that old solitary brick-tower. Here I stand, and watch the Arno rolling its sullen waves. In Pisa, at such an hour, the Arno is the emblem of Despair. Swollen with melted snow from the mountains, it has gnawed its miserable clay banks and now creeps along, leaden and inert, half-solid, like a torrent of liquid mud -- irresolute whether to be earth or water; whether to stagnate here forever at my feet, or crawl onward yet another league into the sea."
Norman Douglas is an egoist of a high order, a writer with a clear, unselfconscious style, a skeptic, a hedonist, an epicure, an anti-vulgarian, and other states of being pleasant and unpleasant. He is indifferent to your presence, yet convivial, he is knowledgeable without pretension or condescension, curious, critical, and amusing. show less
South Wind is a unique novel. Rather than presenting a traditional plot it seems like an olio or mixture of lectures and observations on various, often obscure, aspects of geology, climatology, history, morality, religion, and folklore, among other topics. The author's use of articulate characters confined to a restricted setting allows for ample airing of views and recalls the methods of English novelist Thomas Love Peacock, whose country house novels were once very popular.
South Wind’s show more setting itself becomes a character as the island Nepenthe, which is not to be found on a map, comes alive as the narrative progresses. The literary reference is to the magical potion given to Helen by Polydamna the wife of the noble Egyptian Thon; it quells all sorrows with forgetfulness; figuratively, nepenthe means "that which chases away sorrow" (Odyssey, Book 4, v. 219–221). However, it is usually considered a fictional version of the isle of Capri, about which Douglas wrote a series of scholarly pamphlets and upon which he was living when he completed South Wind. It reminded me of Shirley Hazzard's literary meditation, Greene on Capri in which she also captured the essence of the island. She also noted the friendship between Graham Greene and Douglas in the late 1940's when Greene first began to frequent the isle, "he had the company, when he chose, of a handful of lively and literary resident compatriots . . . [and] had enjoyed the last effulgence of Norman Douglas . . ."(Greene on Capri, p 47)
Douglas did not deny his novel’s debt to a real location but insisted that Ischia, Ponza, and the Lipari Islands (all lying off the southwest coast of Italy) were the actual sources for Nepenthe’s natural scenery. Douglas even incorporated a version of his observations regarding the pumice stone industry of the Lipari Islands, the subject of one of his first publications. Douglas’s creation had deep roots in his own experience—the details of which he drew upon heavily.
The novel’s characters are the result of much the same observational mode which allows the reader, if he is willing, to gradually develop an acquaintance with the place through the idiosyncrasies of the characters. An example may suffice: "Mr. Keith was a perfect host. He had the right word for everybody; his infectious conviviality made them all straightaway at their ease. The overdressed native ladies, the priests and officials moving about in prim little circles, were charmed with his affable manner 'so different from most Englishmen';" (p 131)
One or two characters may be based on historically obscure acquaintances of Douglas, but others are little more than personifications of facets of their author’s own personality. The voluble Mr. Keith is most likely a spokesman for Douglas’s hedonistic views, and Mr. Eames and Count Caloveglia represent Douglas’s scholarly and antiquarian interests. All are perfectly adequate mouthpieces, but none emerges as rounded or particularly memorable outside of the group.
Several British writers of Greene’s generation were directly influenced by Douglas in general and by South Wind in particular. Aldous Huxley’s satirical novels Crome Yellow (1921, in which Douglas appears as the character Scrogan), Antic Hay (1923), and Point Counter Point (1928) bear its stamp. Greene himself generally wrote books of a darker character, but his lighter comic novel Travels with My Aunt (1969) bears similarities to South Wind. Douglas's erudite yet pleasant style reminds me a bit of Lawrence Durrell. Needless to say this is an engaging novel with plenty of interesting characters that more than offset the lack of a robust plot. show less
South Wind’s show more setting itself becomes a character as the island Nepenthe, which is not to be found on a map, comes alive as the narrative progresses. The literary reference is to the magical potion given to Helen by Polydamna the wife of the noble Egyptian Thon; it quells all sorrows with forgetfulness; figuratively, nepenthe means "that which chases away sorrow" (Odyssey, Book 4, v. 219–221). However, it is usually considered a fictional version of the isle of Capri, about which Douglas wrote a series of scholarly pamphlets and upon which he was living when he completed South Wind. It reminded me of Shirley Hazzard's literary meditation, Greene on Capri in which she also captured the essence of the island. She also noted the friendship between Graham Greene and Douglas in the late 1940's when Greene first began to frequent the isle, "he had the company, when he chose, of a handful of lively and literary resident compatriots . . . [and] had enjoyed the last effulgence of Norman Douglas . . ."(Greene on Capri, p 47)
Douglas did not deny his novel’s debt to a real location but insisted that Ischia, Ponza, and the Lipari Islands (all lying off the southwest coast of Italy) were the actual sources for Nepenthe’s natural scenery. Douglas even incorporated a version of his observations regarding the pumice stone industry of the Lipari Islands, the subject of one of his first publications. Douglas’s creation had deep roots in his own experience—the details of which he drew upon heavily.
The novel’s characters are the result of much the same observational mode which allows the reader, if he is willing, to gradually develop an acquaintance with the place through the idiosyncrasies of the characters. An example may suffice: "Mr. Keith was a perfect host. He had the right word for everybody; his infectious conviviality made them all straightaway at their ease. The overdressed native ladies, the priests and officials moving about in prim little circles, were charmed with his affable manner 'so different from most Englishmen';" (p 131)
One or two characters may be based on historically obscure acquaintances of Douglas, but others are little more than personifications of facets of their author’s own personality. The voluble Mr. Keith is most likely a spokesman for Douglas’s hedonistic views, and Mr. Eames and Count Caloveglia represent Douglas’s scholarly and antiquarian interests. All are perfectly adequate mouthpieces, but none emerges as rounded or particularly memorable outside of the group.
Several British writers of Greene’s generation were directly influenced by Douglas in general and by South Wind in particular. Aldous Huxley’s satirical novels Crome Yellow (1921, in which Douglas appears as the character Scrogan), Antic Hay (1923), and Point Counter Point (1928) bear its stamp. Greene himself generally wrote books of a darker character, but his lighter comic novel Travels with My Aunt (1969) bears similarities to South Wind. Douglas's erudite yet pleasant style reminds me a bit of Lawrence Durrell. Needless to say this is an engaging novel with plenty of interesting characters that more than offset the lack of a robust plot. show less
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- Works
- 42
- Also by
- 8
- Members
- 1,559
- Popularity
- #16,536
- Rating
- 3.7
- Reviews
- 28
- ISBNs
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