The Maias

“Porque não se deixaria o preto sossegado, na calma posse dos seus manipansos? Que mal fazia à ordem das coisas que houvesse selvagens? Pelo contrário, davam ao universo uma deliciosa quantidade de pitoresco”.

(My loose translation: “Why couldn't the Black be left alone, in the calm possession of his charms? What harm did it do to the order of things that there were savages? On the contrary, they gave the universe a delicious amount of the picturesque”)

In “Os Maias” by Eça de Queiroz

I’ve just re-read “Os Maias” because I read somewhere in the Portuguese press it had racist “undertones”.

Let me get this out of the way first: I have a personal moral obligation to not be racist, as well as a personal inclination. I show more do not have a moral obligation to erase history because someone says that they find it offensive. I'm not arguing that just because it happened a long time ago it is harmless or that I approve, just that history is there to be learned from and you cannot do that if you sanitize it into oblivion. I just believe that history and fiction in particular is a "warts and all" thing, you have to show the nasty stuff and doing so does not in any way imply that you agree with the opinions and mores of the time under study. Having said that, overreaction effectively gives genuine racists a get out, painting any one who complains about racism as hysterically oversensitive and prone to grandstanding. Moreover, free speech only needs to be defended when someone says something that is controversial, or offensive, or utterly disgusting. The fact that you personally find something offensive is not reason enough to ban it. And banning things has nothing to do with free speech. The principle of free speech is the bedrock of democracy, allowing criticism and new ideas to flourish in society, and it is far more important than any individual's sensibilities.

If you start to declare all literature depicting racism as racist, then you immediately include all anti-racist literature in that category- it's virtually impossible to condemn racism without depicting it. “To Kill a Mockingbird” depicts racism. Toni Morrison's Beloved depicts racism. Primo Levi's “If This Is a Man” depicts racism. Are these anti-racist works to be derided as racist for simply depicting the horrors they condemn?

Bottom-line: No, “Os Maias” is not a racist novel ffs! It's fiction, you stupid tossers! show less

The single great work in Portuguese literature…at least according to Jose Saramago: “The greatest book by Portugal’s greatest novelist”! That’s a pretty heavy burden to place on any piece of literature. In fact, I have mingled feelings. Though I can appreciate the achievement, in the end I can’t avoid saying that I was a trifle disappointed. The story follows the rich aristocratic Maia family, primarily told through the lives of grandfather and grandson. The grandson’s (and, indeed, the society’s) dilettantish predilections are a wonderfully executed metaphor for the decline of Portugal in the second half of the 19th century, but the plot reminds me mostly of Sir Walter Scott: the book is just a little too show more “romantic”—the ups, the downs, the amazing coincidences, the incidents (especially the large cast falling into and out of love) that repeat over and over and over to characters who seem to spend their entire lives learning nothing. And de Queirós’s preoccupation with opera, clothing, and interior decoration (not to mention interminably long sentences) eventually becomes tedious. (I understand that this is how he chooses to invoke "society" and that he is skewering them but less is usually more and too often de Queirós beats his topics to death.) I was also disappointed that the end seemed rushed. All the loose ends are tied together in the last chapter or so, telling us what happened to every character and how their lives played out. The same explanations could—and should, I think—have been told over as many chapters as needed, not crammed into one tidy package. And this after 600+ pages. And so I’m left thinking that the book is either too short or too long.
(My other very sad comment: I read the translation by Margaret Jull Costa. Her work, as always, is impeccable. But her publisher—New Directions—did her and the readers a grave disservice by publishing the book with no supporting information. In some books, I would not need a glossary, but when an author describes his characters’ methods of transportation in excruciating detail (at least six different terms—I stopped counting—for their carriages: calèche, phaeton, dog-cart, four-in-hand…), when amounts of money are important and often used to make a point but the reader has no sense of relative value, the publisher owes it to readers to explain these things. This book had nothing: no notes, no glossary, no introduction (though a brief “appreciation” at the end by Jull Costa), nothing. De Queirós made these distinctions and wrote as he did with a purpose. But when the reader cannot decipher them, I think a publisher actually harms the work by not helping with notes or explanations. Too often I spent time hunting for information on the internet because it seemed too important to just ignore. And like War and Peace, a list of characters wouldn’t hurt.) show less

The story of the fortunes and misfortunes of three generations of men in the wealthy Maia family in the 1870s. The Maias is a Naturalist novel, but instead of concentrating on the seamier part of life, his protagonists are of the higher echelons in Portuguese society and are subjects of as well as collaborators in the author's observations of society and its continuing physical and moral decline. It's definitely not as gritty most other Naturalist works, but it has at its core the pessimism that is truly Naturalist - very few of the characters are allowed to be happy and those who are for a while tend to pay for it many times over before the story ends.

But it's not all doom and gloom; wealthy Portuguese society is quite a charming and show more amusing place to be, with the illicit affairs, languid trips to the countryside, fashionable visits to the opera, and the preposterous swagger of the upper classes. Eça de Queirós is remarkably good at writing characters who are quite pretentious, decadent, and quite silly without making then into caricatures - there is a huge amount of affection for each of them and although there were a few I should have intensely disliked, they are all presented with such a healthy dose of irony that you can't but be fond of their idiosyncrasies and lunatic ideas.

My only complaint is that I haven't heard of this author sooner - he's one of Portugal's most esteemed authors, but why he isn't mentioned any time Flaubert, Eliot, Balzac, or Tolstoy comes up, is a mystery to me. His greatest crime seem to have been that he wrote in one of the "smaller" languages, which has been rectified by the excellent, and award-winning, translation by Margaret Jull Costa – highly recommended for anyone with a liking for 19th century literature. show less

The Maias is a beautifully written account of a friendship between two dissimilar men and of a doomed love affair, set in Lisbon in the immensely rich and priviliged world of the nineteenth century Portuguese aristocracy. According to Jose Saramago, quoted on the dust jacket, The Maias is "The greatest book by Portugal's greatest novelist" - to judge by the extraordinarily limpid and natural translation by Maria Jull Costa, one can well believe him. The Maias, like every great book, is a creature of its time: no modern reader could fail to notice, as an example, its treatment of women (unlesss they are elderly)either as distant ideals or cheerful, quarrelsome whores, and there is something distinctly Victorian in its somewhat wooden and show more melodramatic plot. But to my mind, the beauty of the novel really lies elsewhere, in its minute responsiveness, as though it were a finely crafted barograph, to the slightest and most subtle changes in psychological and social weather; in fashion, in interior decoration,in political movements and ideas, as news of events in France and fashions in England penetrate the somewhat provincial world which Eca de Queiroz so brilliant recreates. Maria Jull Costa tells us in her interesting and informative introduction that the novel is "not so much an historical panorama of nineteenth century Portugal...as a portrait of a society in unstoppable decline". On reflection, this may be true, and it is certainly the kind of judgement one might expect from the author of "The Crime of Father Amaro": yet my own feeling on turning the last page was a feeling of intense nostalgia for the world so brilliantly created by Eca de Queiroz, a world that has gone for ever but which can be summoned up by simply opening the pages of this wonderful and extraordinary novel. show less

This magnificent 19th century novel has been called, 'The greatest book by Portugal's greatest novelist,' by Jose Saramago. Harold Bloom called it, 'one of the most impressive European novels of the nineteenth century, fully comparable to the most inspired novels of the great Russian, French, Italian and English masters of prose fiction.' I had never heard of this book or its author before I picked it up to read as the 'Q' author for my Alphabet Challenge. I am so glad I did, and I will be reading more of de Queiros.

The book reminds me of Buddenbrooks, so for anyone who has read and loved Buddenbrooks that might be recommendation enough. The family in The Maias is much smaller than that in Buddenbrooks. After his mother runs away with show more her lover, and his father's tragic death, Carlos da Maia is raised by his wealthy grandfather. He studies at medical school, and as a young man becomes a dilettante in Lisbon society. Ultimately, he faces a tragedy that will form his character for the rest of his life.

What I loved about this book are the characters. The love Carlos's grandfather has for Carlos permeates the story. He is there behind the scenes, not intrusive, but his love is boundless. It takes Carlos a long time to realize this. The story of Carlos's friendship with Ega, another happy-go-lucky man-about the town is also beautifully portrayed. We should all be so lucky as to have such a friendship in our lives. show less

Surprisingly taut for a 600+ page novel, this late 19th century family epic is quite similar to Gustave Flaubert's Sentimental Education and Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. In many ways, it is superior in structure, voice, and meanders far less than Flaubert. The story itself is about Carlos, the emerging scion of a wealthy Lisbon aristocratic family. Carlos's father and mother had a dramatic, tumultuous history that predates the book, and it is in this backdrop that Carlos unwittingly jumps into life under the eye of an indulgent grandfather. In part a subtle social critique, the politics and messages do not drown out the succinct prose and wonderful stories. The characters are well developed, although without the color of a Russian novelist. show more It is thrilling, romantic, driving and tremendously sad saga that leaves one refreshed and touched but not wanting more. show less

The Maia family is old and rich, but by the 1880s has shruk down to a grandfather and grandson. Trained as a doctor, the grandson Carlos (whose parents, both dead, had a tragic romance) lackadaisically sets up a Lisbon practice, but mostly spends time hanging out with friends of various sorts and having casual affairs with married women. before setting off a complicated chain of events by falling in love with one particular woman.

The novel, considered Eça de Queirós's masterpiece, paints a broad, often satiric portrait of the Portuguese upper classes, their prejudices, the world they lived in, their political and artistic controversies, and their place in the larger European context. While I found this insight into a world long gone show more (and deservedly so) fascinating, I became irritated by Carlos and his superficiality by the end of this lengthy book, and found the coincidence on which the plot turns a little contrived and melodramatic. Nonetheless, the characterizations are wonderful; all kinds of people, at least people of the nonworking classes, spring to life in Eça de Queirós's writing. show less