While Cyprus is often touted as a tourist destination, the origins of the prolonged war between the island's Greek and the Turkish communities are less well known. In Bitter Lemons of Cyprus--first published in 1957--Lawrence Durrell blends the story of beginning a new life in this beautiful place with an account of the conflict's beginnings. It is a narrative that retains political relevance today.

The book starts out like something by Peter Mayle or Chris Stewart, a forerunner of the "good life abroad" genre. Durrell is a hard-up writer looking for Mediterranean peace and a stunning old house--Cyprus obliges. But circumstances and Durrell's poetic genius ensure that the book is far more than a glib chronicle of hilarious events and eccentric neighbours. These exist in plenty, and Durrell writes about them with zest and great wit, but slowly he gets drawn into the unfolding tragedy of Cyprus's battle for self-determination.

The revolt ignites, and Durrell's tranquil life is shattered. His stay on Cyprus becomes one of great sadness, which he communicates with restrained fury as he describes the political transformations and paradoxes that overtake the island. In his poetic and loving descriptions of places and people--most of them remarkably steadfast in the face of political convulsions--there is an empathy and an attention to detail which provides a poignant memorial to a life which, it becomes clear, was shattered as much by the indolence of men in grey suits as by the violent spirits of the hills. --Toby Green

History repeating itself........, 19 May 2007
The first issue here is over the name of the book, It is NOT `Bitter Lemons of Cyprus'; it was published as `Bitter Lemons', and that title has far more contextual meaning. Lemons are bitter sweet, and that defines Durrell's relationship with Cyprus, his village, the villagers and indeed the UK, which he generally referred to as Pudding Island. I will declare an interest: I adore Cyprus; this book was a main reason for me to visit, and subsequently, some 20 years ago we bought an arty house in a beautiful village. We have spent eight years living amongst some of the most generous, open and warm-hearted people on earth. This rings out from Durrell's book too. His descriptions are precise, accurate, affectionate and objective. In parallel with his attempts to make a home in the fabulously arty and beautiful village of Bellapaix, we watch in horror as the strategic political hypocrisies and cynicism play out at courtyard level. This era of Mediterranean history is not without shame for all the actors involved in it, and the victims are invariably the individuals caught up in the dangerous world of international politics mixed with nationalism, fear and misunderstandings; made the more dangerous by external meddling. Sounds horribly familiar to events elsewhere in the world, thereby proving that those who do not learn from the mistakes of history are condemned to repeat them. This book is a salutary lesson of the problems faced not only in buying a house in a foreign country, but also the problems of buying acceptance into a foreign culture, and inevitably the tragic price of failure. Bitter sweet. Bitter Lemons, indeed.

A tale of two cultures, 03 Feb 2007
Hope, discovery, humour, tragedy and greed are portrayed with great literary skill in a captivating and very readable style in this excellent non-fictional story. Although easy to miss among the miriad of wonderful characters brought to life by Durell, there are some very real political undertones in comparisons with Crete and the description of the Greek revolt against British rule in the 1950s. The book implies that, in an attempt to keep hold of control over the island, Britain exploited the soured relationship between Greece and Turkey to set up a federation in 1960 that it knew would remain divided and in need of constant British involvement. Those familiar with the later tragic consequences in 1963 and 1974 will lament the the divide and rule policy of a dying British empire.

A good read, 06 Jun 2004
I bought this book to read on holiday and i am glad i did. I was actually in cyprus when i read it. The characters are brilliant and to think they were real. The episode where he is buying the house is hilarious,i found myself reading faster and faster as the sale got more fast and furious. A good read.

Before Mayle and Mayes came Durrell., 22 Jun 2001
Forget all those insipid Peter Mayle books and the myriad imitations that they spawned. This is the real thing; a book about settling in a new country, buying a house (the funniest chapter in the book) and the slow realisation that, politically, the situation is becoming untenable. Bitter Lemons, which starts off so optimistically, is a sad commentary on the inability of people to get along with each other. Take this book away with you this summer and Mr Durrell's unique ability to evoke the Spirit of Place (see his collected letters) will stay with you and haunt you long after you return home from your tame Greek beach holiday.

History repeating itself........, 19 May 2007
The first issue here is over the name of the book, It is NOT `Bitter Lemons of Cyprus'; it was published as `Bitter Lemons', and that title has far more contextual meaning. Lemons are bitter sweet, and that defines Durrell's relationship with Cyprus, his village, the villagers and indeed the UK, which he generally referred to as Pudding Island. I will declare an interest: I adore Cyprus; this book was a main reason for me to visit, and subsequently, some 20 years ago we bought an arty house in a beautiful village. We have spent eight years living amongst some of the most generous, open and warm-hearted people on earth. This rings out from Durrell's book too. His descriptions are precise, accurate, affectionate and objective. In parallel with his attempts to make a home in the fabulously arty and beautiful village of Bellapaix, we watch in horror as the strategic political hypocrisies and cynicism play out at courtyard level. This era of Mediterranean history is not without shame for all the actors involved in it, and the victims are invariably the individuals caught up in the dangerous world of international politics mixed with nationalism, fear and misunderstandings; made the more dangerous by external meddling. Sounds horribly familiar to events elsewhere in the world, thereby proving that those who do not learn from the mistakes of history are condemned to repeat them. This book is a salutary lesson of the problems faced not only in buying a house in a foreign country, but also the problems of buying acceptance into a foreign culture, and inevitably the tragic price of failure. Bitter sweet. Bitter Lemons, indeed.

A tale of two cultures, 03 Feb 2007
Hope, discovery, humour, tragedy and greed are portrayed with great literary skill in a captivating and very readable style in this excellent non-fictional story. Although easy to miss among the miriad of wonderful characters brought to life by Durell, there are some very real political undertones in comparisons with Crete and the description of the Greek revolt against British rule in the 1950s. The book implies that, in an attempt to keep hold of control over the island, Britain exploited the soured relationship between Greece and Turkey to set up a federation in 1960 that it knew would remain divided and in need of constant British involvement. Those familiar with the later tragic consequences in 1963 and 1974 will lament the the divide and rule policy of a dying British empire.

A good read, 06 Jun 2004
I bought this book to read on holiday and i am glad i did. I was actually in cyprus when i read it. The characters are brilliant and to think they were real. The episode where he is buying the house is hilarious,i found myself reading faster and faster as the sale got more fast and furious. A good read.

Before Mayle and Mayes came Durrell., 22 Jun 2001
Forget all those insipid Peter Mayle books and the myriad imitations that they spawned. This is the real thing; a book about settling in a new country, buying a house (the funniest chapter in the book) and the slow realisation that, politically, the situation is becoming untenable. Bitter Lemons, which starts off so optimistically, is a sad commentary on the inability of people to get along with each other. Take this book away with you this summer and Mr Durrell's unique ability to evoke the Spirit of Place (see his collected letters) will stay with you and haunt you long after you return home from your tame Greek beach holiday.

Story-telling at its best, characters to stir your very soul, 17 Feb 2007
This is an exquisite piece of story-telling, tracing the eccentric lives of old souls scratching around in the detritus of a tired, grimy but magnificent old city. The characterisations are vivid, shocking and flamboyantly colourful. My particular favourite, the "old pirate" Scobie with his bathtub of illicit whisky, heretical parrot and manservant with an unfortunate sideline in botched circumcisions, has been one of the most eccentric and sympathetic characters I have had the priviledge to read in literature - his ending, in a tiny and stiflingly hot police cell by the docks, where the narrator struggles by candlelight to pull his stiffened body out of a woman's dress and into the decency of a proper military uniform, becomes ressurection as the dim recollection from the sleepy souls of his district mix their recollections of him with half-forgotten mythology and elevate his sand-filled bathtub into the shrine of "El-Skob", and the sailors from the very warship who had caused his untimely demise fire salutes to his honour. Truly there is nothing to compare to the intricate narrative style of this superb series of novels.

The Glittering Kaleidoscope, 05 Oct 2006
Throughout The Alexandria Quartet, Durrell writes with a richness and resonance that is mesmerising. It is a glittering kaleidoscope of genius. His cast of characters is full of wonderful individuals, whether it be the raddled old sea dog Scobie, or the suave Nessim, the party loving Pombal, all chime with the resonance of people whom Durrell must have closely observed. The plot is as twisted as the stands of rope securing the Egyptian dhows to their moorings in Alexandria Harbour. The Quartet rings with the echoes of Severis' poetry, and has snatches of aracane philosophy and descriptions of the Gnostics that give a fascinating insight into the rich social and religious palimpsest that was and is Egypt, along with a real understanding of the diplomatic and political interplay of Britain and Egypt in the early 20th century. Reading the book is like whirling one way on a merry-go-round, trying to watch a static object - only to discover yourself on another merry-go-round whirling a different way trying to keep your eyes on the original object. It looks quite different. Durrell twists time to allow multiple viewpoints of the same story, and then allows the fourth volume to complete the chronological continuum so the story composes itself, and the true nature of the preceding events is finally aligned and arranged and there is a sense of closure. Without doubt one of my favourite books of all time, to be savoured in the balmy evenings of a Mediterranean island, listening to the warm wind through the palms, with the creak of cicadas in the background.

Complex and wonderful, 25 Apr 2006
The first volume, 'Justine', reads like a competent and engaging but rather predictable tale of adulterous romance - until 'Balthazaar' turns your perceptions completely upside down - and then 'Mountolive' repeats the same dizzying trick ('Clea' is a little disappointing, though). If I had not been stuck on holiday with a combined edition, I might not have progressed beyond 'Justine', and would have missed out on one of the most stimulating and enjoyable reads of my life. These books remind us that whatever we may think we understand about the world or other people is always open to re-interpretation.

History repeating itself........, 19 May 2007
The first issue here is over the name of the book, It is NOT `Bitter Lemons of Cyprus'; it was published as `Bitter Lemons', and that title has far more contextual meaning. Lemons are bitter sweet, and that defines Durrell's relationship with Cyprus, his village, the villagers and indeed the UK, which he generally referred to as Pudding Island. I will declare an interest: I adore Cyprus; this book was a main reason for me to visit, and subsequently, some 20 years ago we bought an arty house in a beautiful village. We have spent eight years living amongst some of the most generous, open and warm-hearted people on earth. This rings out from Durrell's book too. His descriptions are precise, accurate, affectionate and objective. In parallel with his attempts to make a home in the fabulously arty and beautiful village of Bellapaix, we watch in horror as the strategic political hypocrisies and cynicism play out at courtyard level. This era of Mediterranean history is not without shame for all the actors involved in it, and the victims are invariably the individuals caught up in the dangerous world of international politics mixed with nationalism, fear and misunderstandings; made the more dangerous by external meddling. Sounds horribly familiar to events elsewhere in the world, thereby proving that those who do not learn from the mistakes of history are condemned to repeat them. This book is a salutary lesson of the problems faced not only in buying a house in a foreign country, but also the problems of buying acceptance into a foreign culture, and inevitably the tragic price of failure. Bitter sweet. Bitter Lemons, indeed.

A tale of two cultures, 03 Feb 2007
Hope, discovery, humour, tragedy and greed are portrayed with great literary skill in a captivating and very readable style in this excellent non-fictional story. Although easy to miss among the miriad of wonderful characters brought to life by Durell, there are some very real political undertones in comparisons with Crete and the description of the Greek revolt against British rule in the 1950s. The book implies that, in an attempt to keep hold of control over the island, Britain exploited the soured relationship between Greece and Turkey to set up a federation in 1960 that it knew would remain divided and in need of constant British involvement. Those familiar with the later tragic consequences in 1963 and 1974 will lament the the divide and rule policy of a dying British empire.

A good read, 06 Jun 2004
I bought this book to read on holiday and i am glad i did. I was actually in cyprus when i read it. The characters are brilliant and to think they were real. The episode where he is buying the house is hilarious,i found myself reading faster and faster as the sale got more fast and furious. A good read.

Before Mayle and Mayes came Durrell., 22 Jun 2001
Forget all those insipid Peter Mayle books and the myriad imitations that they spawned. This is the real thing; a book about settling in a new country, buying a house (the funniest chapter in the book) and the slow realisation that, politically, the situation is becoming untenable. Bitter Lemons, which starts off so optimistically, is a sad commentary on the inability of people to get along with each other. Take this book away with you this summer and Mr Durrell's unique ability to evoke the Spirit of Place (see his collected letters) will stay with you and haunt you long after you return home from your tame Greek beach holiday.

Story-telling at its best, characters to stir your very soul, 17 Feb 2007
This is an exquisite piece of story-telling, tracing the eccentric lives of old souls scratching around in the detritus of a tired, grimy but magnificent old city. The characterisations are vivid, shocking and flamboyantly colourful. My particular favourite, the "old pirate" Scobie with his bathtub of illicit whisky, heretical parrot and manservant with an unfortunate sideline in botched circumcisions, has been one of the most eccentric and sympathetic characters I have had the priviledge to read in literature - his ending, in a tiny and stiflingly hot police cell by the docks, where the narrator struggles by candlelight to pull his stiffened body out of a woman's dress and into the decency of a proper military uniform, becomes ressurection as the dim recollection from the sleepy souls of his district mix their recollections of him with half-forgotten mythology and elevate his sand-filled bathtub into the shrine of "El-Skob", and the sailors from the very warship who had caused his untimely demise fire salutes to his honour. Truly there is nothing to compare to the intricate narrative style of this superb series of novels.

The Glittering Kaleidoscope, 05 Oct 2006
Throughout The Alexandria Quartet, Durrell writes with a richness and resonance that is mesmerising. It is a glittering kaleidoscope of genius. His cast of characters is full of wonderful individuals, whether it be the raddled old sea dog Scobie, or the suave Nessim, the party loving Pombal, all chime with the resonance of people whom Durrell must have closely observed. The plot is as twisted as the stands of rope securing the Egyptian dhows to their moorings in Alexandria Harbour. The Quartet rings with the echoes of Severis' poetry, and has snatches of aracane philosophy and descriptions of the Gnostics that give a fascinating insight into the rich social and religious palimpsest that was and is Egypt, along with a real understanding of the diplomatic and political interplay of Britain and Egypt in the early 20th century. Reading the book is like whirling one way on a merry-go-round, trying to watch a static object - only to discover yourself on another merry-go-round whirling a different way trying to keep your eyes on the original object. It looks quite different. Durrell twists time to allow multiple viewpoints of the same story, and then allows the fourth volume to complete the chronological continuum so the story composes itself, and the true nature of the preceding events is finally aligned and arranged and there is a sense of closure. Without doubt one of my favourite books of all time, to be savoured in the balmy evenings of a Mediterranean island, listening to the warm wind through the palms, with the creak of cicadas in the background.

Complex and wonderful, 25 Apr 2006
The first volume, 'Justine', reads like a competent and engaging but rather predictable tale of adulterous romance - until 'Balthazaar' turns your perceptions completely upside down - and then 'Mountolive' repeats the same dizzying trick ('Clea' is a little disappointing, though). If I had not been stuck on holiday with a combined edition, I might not have progressed beyond 'Justine', and would have missed out on one of the most stimulating and enjoyable reads of my life. These books remind us that whatever we may think we understand about the world or other people is always open to re-interpretation.

Fine story full of mystery and suspense, 01 Oct 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as a scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

The fine story about human journeys to the light or darkness, 28 Sep 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as the scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

History repeating itself........, 19 May 2007
The first issue here is over the name of the book, It is NOT `Bitter Lemons of Cyprus'; it was published as `Bitter Lemons', and that title has far more contextual meaning. Lemons are bitter sweet, and that defines Durrell's relationship with Cyprus, his village, the villagers and indeed the UK, which he generally referred to as Pudding Island. I will declare an interest: I adore Cyprus; this book was a main reason for me to visit, and subsequently, some 20 years ago we bought an arty house in a beautiful village. We have spent eight years living amongst some of the most generous, open and warm-hearted people on earth. This rings out from Durrell's book too. His descriptions are precise, accurate, affectionate and objective. In parallel with his attempts to make a home in the fabulously arty and beautiful village of Bellapaix, we watch in horror as the strategic political hypocrisies and cynicism play out at courtyard level. This era of Mediterranean history is not without shame for all the actors involved in it, and the victims are invariably the individuals caught up in the dangerous world of international politics mixed with nationalism, fear and misunderstandings; made the more dangerous by external meddling. Sounds horribly familiar to events elsewhere in the world, thereby proving that those who do not learn from the mistakes of history are condemned to repeat them. This book is a salutary lesson of the problems faced not only in buying a house in a foreign country, but also the problems of buying acceptance into a foreign culture, and inevitably the tragic price of failure. Bitter sweet. Bitter Lemons, indeed.

A tale of two cultures, 03 Feb 2007
Hope, discovery, humour, tragedy and greed are portrayed with great literary skill in a captivating and very readable style in this excellent non-fictional story. Although easy to miss among the miriad of wonderful characters brought to life by Durell, there are some very real political undertones in comparisons with Crete and the description of the Greek revolt against British rule in the 1950s. The book implies that, in an attempt to keep hold of control over the island, Britain exploited the soured relationship between Greece and Turkey to set up a federation in 1960 that it knew would remain divided and in need of constant British involvement. Those familiar with the later tragic consequences in 1963 and 1974 will lament the the divide and rule policy of a dying British empire.

A good read, 06 Jun 2004
I bought this book to read on holiday and i am glad i did. I was actually in cyprus when i read it. The characters are brilliant and to think they were real. The episode where he is buying the house is hilarious,i found myself reading faster and faster as the sale got more fast and furious. A good read.

Before Mayle and Mayes came Durrell., 22 Jun 2001
Forget all those insipid Peter Mayle books and the myriad imitations that they spawned. This is the real thing; a book about settling in a new country, buying a house (the funniest chapter in the book) and the slow realisation that, politically, the situation is becoming untenable. Bitter Lemons, which starts off so optimistically, is a sad commentary on the inability of people to get along with each other. Take this book away with you this summer and Mr Durrell's unique ability to evoke the Spirit of Place (see his collected letters) will stay with you and haunt you long after you return home from your tame Greek beach holiday.

Story-telling at its best, characters to stir your very soul, 17 Feb 2007
This is an exquisite piece of story-telling, tracing the eccentric lives of old souls scratching around in the detritus of a tired, grimy but magnificent old city. The characterisations are vivid, shocking and flamboyantly colourful. My particular favourite, the "old pirate" Scobie with his bathtub of illicit whisky, heretical parrot and manservant with an unfortunate sideline in botched circumcisions, has been one of the most eccentric and sympathetic characters I have had the priviledge to read in literature - his ending, in a tiny and stiflingly hot police cell by the docks, where the narrator struggles by candlelight to pull his stiffened body out of a woman's dress and into the decency of a proper military uniform, becomes ressurection as the dim recollection from the sleepy souls of his district mix their recollections of him with half-forgotten mythology and elevate his sand-filled bathtub into the shrine of "El-Skob", and the sailors from the very warship who had caused his untimely demise fire salutes to his honour. Truly there is nothing to compare to the intricate narrative style of this superb series of novels.

The Glittering Kaleidoscope, 05 Oct 2006
Throughout The Alexandria Quartet, Durrell writes with a richness and resonance that is mesmerising. It is a glittering kaleidoscope of genius. His cast of characters is full of wonderful individuals, whether it be the raddled old sea dog Scobie, or the suave Nessim, the party loving Pombal, all chime with the resonance of people whom Durrell must have closely observed. The plot is as twisted as the stands of rope securing the Egyptian dhows to their moorings in Alexandria Harbour. The Quartet rings with the echoes of Severis' poetry, and has snatches of aracane philosophy and descriptions of the Gnostics that give a fascinating insight into the rich social and religious palimpsest that was and is Egypt, along with a real understanding of the diplomatic and political interplay of Britain and Egypt in the early 20th century. Reading the book is like whirling one way on a merry-go-round, trying to watch a static object - only to discover yourself on another merry-go-round whirling a different way trying to keep your eyes on the original object. It looks quite different. Durrell twists time to allow multiple viewpoints of the same story, and then allows the fourth volume to complete the chronological continuum so the story composes itself, and the true nature of the preceding events is finally aligned and arranged and there is a sense of closure. Without doubt one of my favourite books of all time, to be savoured in the balmy evenings of a Mediterranean island, listening to the warm wind through the palms, with the creak of cicadas in the background.

Complex and wonderful, 25 Apr 2006
The first volume, 'Justine', reads like a competent and engaging but rather predictable tale of adulterous romance - until 'Balthazaar' turns your perceptions completely upside down - and then 'Mountolive' repeats the same dizzying trick ('Clea' is a little disappointing, though). If I had not been stuck on holiday with a combined edition, I might not have progressed beyond 'Justine', and would have missed out on one of the most stimulating and enjoyable reads of my life. These books remind us that whatever we may think we understand about the world or other people is always open to re-interpretation.

Fine story full of mystery and suspense, 01 Oct 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as a scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

The fine story about human journeys to the light or darkness, 28 Sep 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as the scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

"The southbound train from Paris was the one we had always taken ...", 17 Sep 2008
Thus, the opening words of this epic exploration of identity. I was to spend some time living near Avignon and wanted some fiction to read whilst there that would tie me close to the city. My search on Amazon threw up Durrell's Avignon Quintet. I had not read any of his work before; I knew very little about him; I knew nothing about the five books that make up the quintet. I was so glad I bought it! As a taster, here are examples of the books wisdom: -

"Happiness, which is only the sense of wonder suddenly revived, ..." / "All ideals are attainable - that is what makes them worth having." / "While events are being lived, they travel too fast for easy evaluation." / "Too much freedom gives you vertigo." / "I had begun to participate in the inevitable. I knew then what bliss was." / "If foreigners did not exist, the English would not know who to patronise." / "To be instructively wounded is the most one can ask of love." /
Man "could not face the freedom offered by choice, whence history." And "History triumphantly describes the victory of divine entropy over the aspirations of the majority." / "Man is born free, free as a nightmare." / "This is the way my world ends, not with a bang but a Werther." / "Good writing should pullulate with ambiguities." / "Civilisation is a placebo with side-effects."

Avignon serves as a main receptacle for this exploration, but there are significant detours to other theatres: Alexandria, Cairo, Venice, Vienna, Berlin, Geneva, Paris, London, Oxford, even Bournemouth. It is largely (though not exclusively) set in the difficult years of the middle of the twentieth century. In a note to the third volume, Durrell states that, whilst not a work of history, this episode "has a high degree of impressionistic accuracy as a portrait of the French Midi during the late war [1939-45]."

The quintet's cleverness is as much down to form as to content. These are books within books within books. Durrell, as early as the second of the five, explores through his characters the structure of his literary conception. "Written in a highly elliptical quincunxial style invented for the occasion," the five books would be (says the author Blanford to his alter ego Robin Sutcliffe) echoes of each other: "they would not be laid end to end in serial order, like dominoes - but simply belong to the same blood group." The first "would provide simply a cluster of themes to be reworked in the others. Get busy, Robin!" Sutcliffe much later contemplates "the whole book arranged in diminished fifths from the point of view of orchestration. A big switchy book, all points and sidings."

But if the character of Blanford/Sutcliffe is really Durrell in matching and opposing personas, the author can at least come clean through his characters: "My style may be described as one of jump-cutting as with cinema film ... The old stable outlines of the dear old linear novel have been side-stepped in favour of soft-focus palimpsest which enables the actors to turn into each other ..." How much of the book is overtly autobiographical would require perhaps a lifetime to truly discover. But Durrell has the author Blanford write of himself, "I have no biography; a true artist, I go through life like a character in one of my own books."

It opens with a ménage-a-trois involving Piers, his sister, and her English husband, with the latter (not the sister) at its heart. At the end of reading the first chapter, I was so marvellously effected as to be unsure of myself and my presence in space/time. I read the following chapters voraciously, feeling myself being conveyed deeply into a world of Gnostic mysticism that played with my abject curiosity in the same way that Umberto Eco's novel `Foucault's Pendulum' had done many years ago. Much of the book revolves around an Egyptian prince Akkad, and like Piers's doubts about Akkad's Gnostic teachings, I had to wonder at the story I was being told: "Could it all have been a fake?" What was this book about? Was it really a murder-mystery? I soon learned that it was not: it is an exploration of identity.

For the book is replete with doubles - even triples, or more. Blanford is Bloshford is Sutcliffe is Sam; Pia is Livia is Constance; Piers is Hilary is Bruno; Sylvia is Livia is Sylvaine is Quatrefages; Lord Galen is von Esslin is Banquo. A taste of how this is cleverly developed is to find that in the third chapter the lines of the quintet's opening sentence that are quoted at the head of this review are repeated, but are now in speech marks and in the third person. This is intriguing, and one soon has a curious feeling that the narrator is not who he says he is, or rather not who he appears to be. There are deliberate slips of the pen. I might have used Blanford's description of wartime Paris as a suitable account for the quintet: "Reality, fine as a skin on milk, was called into question the whole time by this disturbance of focus ..."

The intrigue, the mystery, the interweaving of stories and relationships between the main characters is magnificently handled and await their denouement in the first book's final chapter. But what we have instead is a confusing and rambling and incoherent bumbling until the final few paragraphs shed a slither of fantastical new light, and pave the way for book two. And then, out of the blue - in this clever, multi-dimensional, rambling novel of ambiguous identities - a stray sentence, a twist of a line appears, and the hairs suddenly rise on the back of the neck. At moments like these - such as the sudden realisation that Quatrefages is seeking the Templars' treasure on behalf of Lord Galen -my praise for the work knows no bounds. Not since I read Dostoevsky's `Crime and Punishment' has a work of fiction so astounded me in this way. The superlative passages are more numerous when read with a glass of wine: Cotes du Rhone, of course.

After some detours of continental proportions, there is towards the end of the 1,300 plus pages a return to the consideration of the ménage-a-trois that opened the epic quintet. Blanford had tried "to forge a novel round the notion of this triune love. Alas, it had not come off. The idea ... would, in the reality also, fail." References to Shakespeare's sonnets are obvious, and Sutcliffe remarks that, "the situation outlined in them would have made perhaps his finest play."

As well as deep truths peppered in the text, there is much tosh too; poems and streams of consciousness, puns and senseless aphorisms (sic). But one can forgive Durrell his occasional Bacchanalian lapses of taste. Partly this is due to the greatness of his literary conception but also because his almost esoteric philosophy at heart has a sound basis: the exploration of identity has a meaning, for Blanford declares at the end that, "the book, my book, proved to be a guide to the human heart, whose basic method is to loiter with intent ... until the illumination dawns!"



Not The Alexandria Quartet, 30 May 2008
I hold The Alexandria Quartet to be perhaps the greatest novel in English literature. The less well known Avignon Quintet, I guessed, was never likely quite to measure up; unfortunately this expectation proved right.

Of course the Quintet is, in many parts, a beautiful book, or collection of books. Durrell takes the reader to Egypt again, and his depiction of the south of France, where he lived, makes for a vivid and appealing painting of a country: Provence, that has now changed beyond recognition. His speculations on the gnostics and the cat-and-mouse game around the templars' mystery are interesting and had the potential to guide the kind of multi-layered story developed in `Alexandria'.

But the five-tome piece has none of the sober coherence of Durrell's earlier work. The novellas, and too often the characters, are related by a writer's trick, not through the plot itself. They are also marred, in `Livia', by an attempt at a historical rendering that falls flat by purposely ignoring chronology. And Durrell rambles; of course he is witty and brilliant, but no one can always be brilliant over asides that take perhaps half of this 1,300 page block.

The Quintet remains readable and in many parts absorbing, but it is for true devotees of the author. I wonder if Durrell was tainted by the French `nouvelle vague', which seems to have influenced the book's construction and characterisation, or whether he was simply aiming too high in trying to exceed his own, unmatchable masterpiece.


A Menage in Provence, 18 Jan 2008
No-one quite captures the spirit of time and place like Lawrence Durrell. He defined for all time pre-war Alexandria in the famous Quartet, and, as I embark on a second reading of this voluptuous melancholic odyssey, I realise that, even if outside the rain is falling, I can always transport myself to a land of olive trees and cafes in shady squares in the pages of this book.
Here it is a group of friends and a chateau in Avignon and Vichy France; there are Templar legends and gnostic rites, there are jolts, time-shifts and multiple viewpoints. It is Durrell at almost the top of his game. (The top i.e. The Alexandria Quartet being very high indeed)

History repeating itself........, 19 May 2007
The first issue here is over the name of the book, It is NOT `Bitter Lemons of Cyprus'; it was published as `Bitter Lemons', and that title has far more contextual meaning. Lemons are bitter sweet, and that defines Durrell's relationship with Cyprus, his village, the villagers and indeed the UK, which he generally referred to as Pudding Island. I will declare an interest: I adore Cyprus; this book was a main reason for me to visit, and subsequently, some 20 years ago we bought an arty house in a beautiful village. We have spent eight years living amongst some of the most generous, open and warm-hearted people on earth. This rings out from Durrell's book too. His descriptions are precise, accurate, affectionate and objective. In parallel with his attempts to make a home in the fabulously arty and beautiful village of Bellapaix, we watch in horror as the strategic political hypocrisies and cynicism play out at courtyard level. This era of Mediterranean history is not without shame for all the actors involved in it, and the victims are invariably the individuals caught up in the dangerous world of international politics mixed with nationalism, fear and misunderstandings; made the more dangerous by external meddling. Sounds horribly familiar to events elsewhere in the world, thereby proving that those who do not learn from the mistakes of history are condemned to repeat them. This book is a salutary lesson of the problems faced not only in buying a house in a foreign country, but also the problems of buying acceptance into a foreign culture, and inevitably the tragic price of failure. Bitter sweet. Bitter Lemons, indeed.

A tale of two cultures, 03 Feb 2007
Hope, discovery, humour, tragedy and greed are portrayed with great literary skill in a captivating and very readable style in this excellent non-fictional story. Although easy to miss among the miriad of wonderful characters brought to life by Durell, there are some very real political undertones in comparisons with Crete and the description of the Greek revolt against British rule in the 1950s. The book implies that, in an attempt to keep hold of control over the island, Britain exploited the soured relationship between Greece and Turkey to set up a federation in 1960 that it knew would remain divided and in need of constant British involvement. Those familiar with the later tragic consequences in 1963 and 1974 will lament the the divide and rule policy of a dying British empire.

A good read, 06 Jun 2004
I bought this book to read on holiday and i am glad i did. I was actually in cyprus when i read it. The characters are brilliant and to think they were real. The episode where he is buying the house is hilarious,i found myself reading faster and faster as the sale got more fast and furious. A good read.

Before Mayle and Mayes came Durrell., 22 Jun 2001
Forget all those insipid Peter Mayle books and the myriad imitations that they spawned. This is the real thing; a book about settling in a new country, buying a house (the funniest chapter in the book) and the slow realisation that, politically, the situation is becoming untenable. Bitter Lemons, which starts off so optimistically, is a sad commentary on the inability of people to get along with each other. Take this book away with you this summer and Mr Durrell's unique ability to evoke the Spirit of Place (see his collected letters) will stay with you and haunt you long after you return home from your tame Greek beach holiday.

Story-telling at its best, characters to stir your very soul, 17 Feb 2007
This is an exquisite piece of story-telling, tracing the eccentric lives of old souls scratching around in the detritus of a tired, grimy but magnificent old city. The characterisations are vivid, shocking and flamboyantly colourful. My particular favourite, the "old pirate" Scobie with his bathtub of illicit whisky, heretical parrot and manservant with an unfortunate sideline in botched circumcisions, has been one of the most eccentric and sympathetic characters I have had the priviledge to read in literature - his ending, in a tiny and stiflingly hot police cell by the docks, where the narrator struggles by candlelight to pull his stiffened body out of a woman's dress and into the decency of a proper military uniform, becomes ressurection as the dim recollection from the sleepy souls of his district mix their recollections of him with half-forgotten mythology and elevate his sand-filled bathtub into the shrine of "El-Skob", and the sailors from the very warship who had caused his untimely demise fire salutes to his honour. Truly there is nothing to compare to the intricate narrative style of this superb series of novels.

The Glittering Kaleidoscope, 05 Oct 2006
Throughout The Alexandria Quartet, Durrell writes with a richness and resonance that is mesmerising. It is a glittering kaleidoscope of genius. His cast of characters is full of wonderful individuals, whether it be the raddled old sea dog Scobie, or the suave Nessim, the party loving Pombal, all chime with the resonance of people whom Durrell must have closely observed. The plot is as twisted as the stands of rope securing the Egyptian dhows to their moorings in Alexandria Harbour. The Quartet rings with the echoes of Severis' poetry, and has snatches of aracane philosophy and descriptions of the Gnostics that give a fascinating insight into the rich social and religious palimpsest that was and is Egypt, along with a real understanding of the diplomatic and political interplay of Britain and Egypt in the early 20th century. Reading the book is like whirling one way on a merry-go-round, trying to watch a static object - only to discover yourself on another merry-go-round whirling a different way trying to keep your eyes on the original object. It looks quite different. Durrell twists time to allow multiple viewpoints of the same story, and then allows the fourth volume to complete the chronological continuum so the story composes itself, and the true nature of the preceding events is finally aligned and arranged and there is a sense of closure. Without doubt one of my favourite books of all time, to be savoured in the balmy evenings of a Mediterranean island, listening to the warm wind through the palms, with the creak of cicadas in the background.

Complex and wonderful, 25 Apr 2006
The first volume, 'Justine', reads like a competent and engaging but rather predictable tale of adulterous romance - until 'Balthazaar' turns your perceptions completely upside down - and then 'Mountolive' repeats the same dizzying trick ('Clea' is a little disappointing, though). If I had not been stuck on holiday with a combined edition, I might not have progressed beyond 'Justine', and would have missed out on one of the most stimulating and enjoyable reads of my life. These books remind us that whatever we may think we understand about the world or other people is always open to re-interpretation.

Fine story full of mystery and suspense, 01 Oct 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as a scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

The fine story about human journeys to the light or darkness, 28 Sep 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as the scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

"The southbound train from Paris was the one we had always taken ...", 17 Sep 2008
Thus, the opening words of this epic exploration of identity. I was to spend some time living near Avignon and wanted some fiction to read whilst there that would tie me close to the city. My search on Amazon threw up Durrell's Avignon Quintet. I had not read any of his work before; I knew very little about him; I knew nothing about the five books that make up the quintet. I was so glad I bought it! As a taster, here are examples of the books wisdom: -

"Happiness, which is only the sense of wonder suddenly revived, ..." / "All ideals are attainable - that is what makes them worth having." / "While events are being lived, they travel too fast for easy evaluation." / "Too much freedom gives you vertigo." / "I had begun to participate in the inevitable. I knew then what bliss was." / "If foreigners did not exist, the English would not know who to patronise." / "To be instructively wounded is the most one can ask of love." /
Man "could not face the freedom offered by choice, whence history." And "History triumphantly describes the victory of divine entropy over the aspirations of the majority." / "Man is born free, free as a nightmare." / "This is the way my world ends, not with a bang but a Werther." / "Good writing should pullulate with ambiguities." / "Civilisation is a placebo with side-effects."

Avignon serves as a main receptacle for this exploration, but there are significant detours to other theatres: Alexandria, Cairo, Venice, Vienna, Berlin, Geneva, Paris, London, Oxford, even Bournemouth. It is largely (though not exclusively) set in the difficult years of the middle of the twentieth century. In a note to the third volume, Durrell states that, whilst not a work of history, this episode "has a high degree of impressionistic accuracy as a portrait of the French Midi during the late war [1939-45]."

The quintet's cleverness is as much down to form as to content. These are books within books within books. Durrell, as early as the second of the five, explores through his characters the structure of his literary conception. "Written in a highly elliptical quincunxial style invented for the occasion," the five books would be (says the author Blanford to his alter ego Robin Sutcliffe) echoes of each other: "they would not be laid end to end in serial order, like dominoes - but simply belong to the same blood group." The first "would provide simply a cluster of themes to be reworked in the others. Get busy, Robin!" Sutcliffe much later contemplates "the whole book arranged in diminished fifths from the point of view of orchestration. A big switchy book, all points and sidings."

But if the character of Blanford/Sutcliffe is really Durrell in matching and opposing personas, the author can at least come clean through his characters: "My style may be described as one of jump-cutting as with cinema film ... The old stable outlines of the dear old linear novel have been side-stepped in favour of soft-focus palimpsest which enables the actors to turn into each other ..." How much of the book is overtly autobiographical would require perhaps a lifetime to truly discover. But Durrell has the author Blanford write of himself, "I have no biography; a true artist, I go through life like a character in one of my own books."

It opens with a ménage-a-trois involving Piers, his sister, and her English husband, with the latter (not the sister) at its heart. At the end of reading the first chapter, I was so marvellously effected as to be unsure of myself and my presence in space/time. I read the following chapters voraciously, feeling myself being conveyed deeply into a world of Gnostic mysticism that played with my abject curiosity in the same way that Umberto Eco's novel `Foucault's Pendulum' had done many years ago. Much of the book revolves around an Egyptian prince Akkad, and like Piers's doubts about Akkad's Gnostic teachings, I had to wonder at the story I was being told: "Could it all have been a fake?" What was this book about? Was it really a murder-mystery? I soon learned that it was not: it is an exploration of identity.

For the book is replete with doubles - even triples, or more. Blanford is Bloshford is Sutcliffe is Sam; Pia is Livia is Constance; Piers is Hilary is Bruno; Sylvia is Livia is Sylvaine is Quatrefages; Lord Galen is von Esslin is Banquo. A taste of how this is cleverly developed is to find that in the third chapter the lines of the quintet's opening sentence that are quoted at the head of this review are repeated, but are now in speech marks and in the third person. This is intriguing, and one soon has a curious feeling that the narrator is not who he says he is, or rather not who he appears to be. There are deliberate slips of the pen. I might have used Blanford's description of wartime Paris as a suitable account for the quintet: "Reality, fine as a skin on milk, was called into question the whole time by this disturbance of focus ..."

The intrigue, the mystery, the interweaving of stories and relationships between the main characters is magnificently handled and await their denouement in the first book's final chapter. But what we have instead is a confusing and rambling and incoherent bumbling until the final few paragraphs shed a slither of fantastical new light, and pave the way for book two. And then, out of the blue - in this clever, multi-dimensional, rambling novel of ambiguous identities - a stray sentence, a twist of a line appears, and the hairs suddenly rise on the back of the neck. At moments like these - such as the sudden realisation that Quatrefages is seeking the Templars' treasure on behalf of Lord Galen -my praise for the work knows no bounds. Not since I read Dostoevsky's `Crime and Punishment' has a work of fiction so astounded me in this way. The superlative passages are more numerous when read with a glass of wine: Cotes du Rhone, of course.

After some detours of continental proportions, there is towards the end of the 1,300 plus pages a return to the consideration of the ménage-a-trois that opened the epic quintet. Blanford had tried "to forge a novel round the notion of this triune love. Alas, it had not come off. The idea ... would, in the reality also, fail." References to Shakespeare's sonnets are obvious, and Sutcliffe remarks that, "the situation outlined in them would have made perhaps his finest play."

As well as deep truths peppered in the text, there is much tosh too; poems and streams of consciousness, puns and senseless aphorisms (sic). But one can forgive Durrell his occasional Bacchanalian lapses of taste. Partly this is due to the greatness of his literary conception but also because his almost esoteric philosophy at heart has a sound basis: the exploration of identity has a meaning, for Blanford declares at the end that, "the book, my book, proved to be a guide to the human heart, whose basic method is to loiter with intent ... until the illumination dawns!"



Not The Alexandria Quartet, 30 May 2008
I hold The Alexandria Quartet to be perhaps the greatest novel in English literature. The less well known Avignon Quintet, I guessed, was never likely quite to measure up; unfortunately this expectation proved right.

Of course the Quintet is, in many parts, a beautiful book, or collection of books. Durrell takes the reader to Egypt again, and his depiction of the south of France, where he lived, makes for a vivid and appealing painting of a country: Provence, that has now changed beyond recognition. His speculations on the gnostics and the cat-and-mouse game around the templars' mystery are interesting and had the potential to guide the kind of multi-layered story developed in `Alexandria'.

But the five-tome piece has none of the sober coherence of Durrell's earlier work. The novellas, and too often the characters, are related by a writer's trick, not through the plot itself. They are also marred, in `Livia', by an attempt at a historical rendering that falls flat by purposely ignoring chronology. And Durrell rambles; of course he is witty and brilliant, but no one can always be brilliant over asides that take perhaps half of this 1,300 page block.

The Quintet remains readable and in many parts absorbing, but it is for true devotees of the author. I wonder if Durrell was tainted by the French `nouvelle vague', which seems to have influenced the book's construction and characterisation, or whether he was simply aiming too high in trying to exceed his own, unmatchable masterpiece.


A Menage in Provence, 18 Jan 2008
No-one quite captures the spirit of time and place like Lawrence Durrell. He defined for all time pre-war Alexandria in the famous Quartet, and, as I embark on a second reading of this voluptuous melancholic odyssey, I realise that, even if outside the rain is falling, I can always transport myself to a land of olive trees and cafes in shady squares in the pages of this book.
Here it is a group of friends and a chateau in Avignon and Vichy France; there are Templar legends and gnostic rites, there are jolts, time-shifts and multiple viewpoints. It is Durrell at almost the top of his game. (The top i.e. The Alexandria Quartet being very high indeed)

Durrell's experimental first effort, 24 Sep 2006
Tale of the protagonist's journey from childhood in India to adulthood in the UK. Sprinkled with gothically-depicted ex-pat inhabitants of a Bohemian London setting, in a 1930's version of 'Fawlty Towers' as described by a narrator name Lucifer.
Most characters meet an unpleasant demise.
A cynical, jaundiced work, expressing adolescent anger.

History repeating itself........, 19 May 2007
The first issue here is over the name of the book, It is NOT `Bitter Lemons of Cyprus'; it was published as `Bitter Lemons', and that title has far more contextual meaning. Lemons are bitter sweet, and that defines Durrell's relationship with Cyprus, his village, the villagers and indeed the UK, which he generally referred to as Pudding Island. I will declare an interest: I adore Cyprus; this book was a main reason for me to visit, and subsequently, some 20 years ago we bought an arty house in a beautiful village. We have spent eight years living amongst some of the most generous, open and warm-hearted people on earth. This rings out from Durrell's book too. His descriptions are precise, accurate, affectionate and objective. In parallel with his attempts to make a home in the fabulously arty and beautiful village of Bellapaix, we watch in horror as the strategic political hypocrisies and cynicism play out at courtyard level. This era of Mediterranean history is not without shame for all the actors involved in it, and the victims are invariably the individuals caught up in the dangerous world of international politics mixed with nationalism, fear and misunderstandings; made the more dangerous by external meddling. Sounds horribly familiar to events elsewhere in the world, thereby proving that those who do not learn from the mistakes of history are condemned to repeat them. This book is a salutary lesson of the problems faced not only in buying a house in a foreign country, but also the problems of buying acceptance into a foreign culture, and inevitably the tragic price of failure. Bitter sweet. Bitter Lemons, indeed.

A tale of two cultures, 03 Feb 2007
Hope, discovery, humour, tragedy and greed are portrayed with great literary skill in a captivating and very readable style in this excellent non-fictional story. Although easy to miss among the miriad of wonderful characters brought to life by Durell, there are some very real political undertones in comparisons with Crete and the description of the Greek revolt against British rule in the 1950s. The book implies that, in an attempt to keep hold of control over the island, Britain exploited the soured relationship between Greece and Turkey to set up a federation in 1960 that it knew would remain divided and in need of constant British involvement. Those familiar with the later tragic consequences in 1963 and 1974 will lament the the divide and rule policy of a dying British empire.

A good read, 06 Jun 2004
I bought this book to read on holiday and i am glad i did. I was actually in cyprus when i read it. The characters are brilliant and to think they were real. The episode where he is buying the house is hilarious,i found myself reading faster and faster as the sale got more fast and furious. A good read.

Before Mayle and Mayes came Durrell., 22 Jun 2001
Forget all those insipid Peter Mayle books and the myriad imitations that they spawned. This is the real thing; a book about settling in a new country, buying a house (the funniest chapter in the book) and the slow realisation that, politically, the situation is becoming untenable. Bitter Lemons, which starts off so optimistically, is a sad commentary on the inability of people to get along with each other. Take this book away with you this summer and Mr Durrell's unique ability to evoke the Spirit of Place (see his collected letters) will stay with you and haunt you long after you return home from your tame Greek beach holiday.

Story-telling at its best, characters to stir your very soul, 17 Feb 2007
This is an exquisite piece of story-telling, tracing the eccentric lives of old souls scratching around in the detritus of a tired, grimy but magnificent old city. The characterisations are vivid, shocking and flamboyantly colourful. My particular favourite, the "old pirate" Scobie with his bathtub of illicit whisky, heretical parrot and manservant with an unfortunate sideline in botched circumcisions, has been one of the most eccentric and sympathetic characters I have had the priviledge to read in literature - his ending, in a tiny and stiflingly hot police cell by the docks, where the narrator struggles by candlelight to pull his stiffened body out of a woman's dress and into the decency of a proper military uniform, becomes ressurection as the dim recollection from the sleepy souls of his district mix their recollections of him with half-forgotten mythology and elevate his sand-filled bathtub into the shrine of "El-Skob", and the sailors from the very warship who had caused his untimely demise fire salutes to his honour. Truly there is nothing to compare to the intricate narrative style of this superb series of novels.

The Glittering Kaleidoscope, 05 Oct 2006
Throughout The Alexandria Quartet, Durrell writes with a richness and resonance that is mesmerising. It is a glittering kaleidoscope of genius. His cast of characters is full of wonderful individuals, whether it be the raddled old sea dog Scobie, or the suave Nessim, the party loving Pombal, all chime with the resonance of people whom Durrell must have closely observed. The plot is as twisted as the stands of rope securing the Egyptian dhows to their moorings in Alexandria Harbour. The Quartet rings with the echoes of Severis' poetry, and has snatches of aracane philosophy and descriptions of the Gnostics that give a fascinating insight into the rich social and religious palimpsest that was and is Egypt, along with a real understanding of the diplomatic and political interplay of Britain and Egypt in the early 20th century. Reading the book is like whirling one way on a merry-go-round, trying to watch a static object - only to discover yourself on another merry-go-round whirling a different way trying to keep your eyes on the original object. It looks quite different. Durrell twists time to allow multiple viewpoints of the same story, and then allows the fourth volume to complete the chronological continuum so the story composes itself, and the true nature of the preceding events is finally aligned and arranged and there is a sense of closure. Without doubt one of my favourite books of all time, to be savoured in the balmy evenings of a Mediterranean island, listening to the warm wind through the palms, with the creak of cicadas in the background.

Complex and wonderful, 25 Apr 2006
The first volume, 'Justine', reads like a competent and engaging but rather predictable tale of adulterous romance - until 'Balthazaar' turns your perceptions completely upside down - and then 'Mountolive' repeats the same dizzying trick ('Clea' is a little disappointing, though). If I had not been stuck on holiday with a combined edition, I might not have progressed beyond 'Justine', and would have missed out on one of the most stimulating and enjoyable reads of my life. These books remind us that whatever we may think we understand about the world or other people is always open to re-interpretation.

Fine story full of mystery and suspense, 01 Oct 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as a scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

The fine story about human journeys to the light or darkness, 28 Sep 2001
The book is absolutely fascinating. Written in Durrell's brilliant style it is easier to read than most of his later novels. The author vividly pictures a unique atmosphere of the island of Crete. An exotic southern nature, hot sun, beautiful Mediterranean Sea, magnificent mountains - everything serves as the scene for the main action. I read the book while I was spending vacations on the Crete Island and I really enjoyed descriptions of the typical island inhabitants, their special Greek way of living. The plot of the book is very complicated. Durrell was probably inspired by ancient Greek legends about the Labyrinth of Minotaur. Nevertheless he has created not an ordinary adventure story about tourists lost in some mysterious and fearful place, but a study of troubled human minds, difficult relationships, problems of the after-war European society. The author introduces to readers a number of interesting characters, and we follow their way throughout labyrinths of dark sides of the soul as well as throughout caves and tunnels in mountains. I really sympathized with them, no matter were they pleasant or not. The book is fulfilled with mystery, strange events, poetry, and problems of psychoanalysis and even spiritism. It is also funny in a way, full of exquisite English humor. The story cleverly combines facts with a real explanation and the wildest fantasies. The truth turns out to be a fake and then... the truth again! The book is exciting. What else can I say? Just read it. It is worth reading.

"The southbound train from Paris was the one we had always taken ...", 17 Sep 2008
Thus, the opening words of this epic exploration of identity. I was to spend some time living near Avignon and wanted some fiction to read whilst there that would tie me close to the city. My search on Amazon threw up Durrell's Avignon Quintet. I had not read any of his work before; I knew very little about him; I knew nothing about the five books that make up the quintet. I was so glad I bought it! As a taster, here are examples of the books wisdom: -

"Happiness, which is only the sense of wonder suddenly revived, ..." / "All ideals are attainable - that is what makes them worth having." / "While events are being lived, they travel too fast for easy evaluation." / "Too much freedom gives you vertigo." / "I had begun to participate in the inevitable. I knew then what bliss was." / "If foreigners did not exist, the English would not know who to patronise." / "To be instructively wounded is the most one can ask of love." /
Man "could not face the freedom offered by choice, whence history." And "History triumphantly describes the victory of divine entropy over the aspirations of the majority." / "Man is born free, free as a nightmare." / "This is the way my world ends, not with a bang but a Werther." / "Good writing should pullulate with ambiguities." / "Civilisation is a placebo with side-effects."

Avignon serves as a main receptacle for this exploration, but there are significant detours to other theatres: Alexandria, Cairo, Venice, Vienna, Berlin, Geneva, Paris, London, Oxford, even Bournemouth. It is largely (though not exclusively) set in the difficult years of the middle of the twentieth century. In a note to the third volume, Durrell states that, whilst not a work of history, this episode "has a high degree of impressionistic accuracy as a portrait of the French Midi during the late war [1939-45]."

The quintet's cleverness is as much down to form as to content. These are books within books within books. Durrell, as early as the second of the five, explores through his characters the structure of his literary conception. "Written in a highly elliptical quincunxial style invented for the occasion," the five books would be (says the author Blanford to his alter ego Robin Sutcliffe) echoes of each other: "they would not be laid end to end in serial order, like dominoes - but simply belong to the same blood group." The first "would provide simply a cluster of themes to be reworked in the others. Get busy, Robin!" Sutcliffe much later contemplates "the whole book arranged in diminished fifths from the point of view of orchestration. A big switchy book, all points and sidings."

But if the character of Blanford/Sutcliffe is really Durrell in matching and opposing personas, the author can at least come clean through his characters: "My style may be described as one of jump-cutting as with cinema film ... The old stable outlines of the dear old linear novel have been side-stepped in favour of soft-focus palimpsest which enables the actors to turn into each other ..." How much of the book is overtly autobiographical would require perhaps a lifetime to truly discover. But Durrell has the author Blanford write of himself, "I have no biography; a true artist, I go through life like a character in one of my own books."

It opens with a ménage-a-trois involving Piers, his sister, and her English husband, with the latter (not the sister) at its heart. At the end of reading the first chapter, I was so marvellously effected as to be unsure of myself and my presence in space/time. I read the following chapters voraciously, feeling myself being conveyed deeply into a world of Gnostic mysticism that played with my abject curiosity in the same way that Umberto Eco's novel `Foucault's Pendulum' had done many years ago. Much of the book revolves around an Egyptian prince Akkad, and like Piers's doubts about Akkad's Gnostic teachings, I had to wonder at the story I was being told: "Could it all have been a fake?" What was this book about? Was it really a murder-mystery? I soon learned that it was not: it is an exploration of identity.

For the book is replete with doubles - even triples, or more. Blanford is Bloshford is Sutcliffe is Sam; Pia is Livia is Constance; Piers is Hilary is Bruno; Sylvia is Livia is Sylvaine is Quatrefages; Lord Galen is von Esslin is Banquo. A taste of how this is cleverly developed is to find that in the third chapter the lines of the quintet's opening sentence that are quoted at the head of this review are repeated, but are now in speech marks and in the third person. This is intriguing, and one soon has a curious feeling that the narrator is not who he says he is, or rather not who he appears to be. There are deliberate slips of the pen. I might have used Blanford's description of wartime Paris as a suitable account for the quintet: "Reality, fine as a skin on milk, was called into question the whole time by this disturbance of focus ..."

The intrigue, the mystery, the interweaving of stories and relationships between the main characters is magnificently handled and await their denouement in the first book's final chapter. But what we have instead is a confusing and rambling and incoherent bumbling until the final few paragraphs shed a slither of fantastical new light, and pave the way for book two. And then, out of the blue - in this clever, multi-dimensional, rambling novel of ambiguous identities - a stray sentence, a twist of a line appears, and the hairs suddenly rise on the back of the neck. At moments like these - such as the sudden realisation that Quatrefages is seeking the Templars' treasure on behalf of Lord Galen -my praise for the work knows no bounds. Not since I read Dostoevsky's `Crime and Punishment' has a work of fiction so astounded me in this way. The superlative passages are more numerous when read with a glass of wine: Cotes du Rhone, of course.

After some detours of continental proportions, there is towards the end of the 1,300 plus pages a return to the consideration of the ménage-a-trois that opened the epic quintet. Blanford had tried "to forge a novel round the notion of this triune love. Alas, it had not come off. The idea ... would, in the reality also, fail." References to Shakespeare's sonnets are obvious, and Sutcliffe remarks that, "the situation outlined in them would have made perhaps his finest play."

As well as deep truths peppered in the text, there is much tosh too; poems and streams of consciousness, puns and senseless aphorisms (sic). But one can forgive Durrell his occasional Bacchanalian lapses of taste. Partly this is due to the greatness of his literary conception but also because his almost esoteric philosophy at heart has a sound basis: the exploration of identity has a meaning, for Blanford declares at the end that, "the book, my book, proved to be a guide to the human heart, whose basic method is to loiter with intent ... until the illumination dawns!"



Not The Alexandria Quartet, 30 May 2008
I hold The Alexandria Quartet to be perhaps the greatest novel in English literature. The less well known Avignon Quintet, I guessed, was never likely quite to measure up; unfortunately this expectation proved right.

Of course the Quintet is, in many parts, a beautiful book, or collection of books. Durrell takes the reader to Egypt again, and his depiction of the south of France, where he lived, makes for a vivid and appealing painting of a country: Provence, that has now changed beyond recognition. His speculations on the gnostics and the cat-and-mouse game around the templars' mystery are interesting and had the potential to guide the kind of multi-layered story developed in `Alexandria'.

But the five-tome piece has none of the sober coherence of Durrell's earlier work. The novellas, and too often the characters, are related by a writer's trick, not through the plot itself. They are also marred, in `Livia', by an attempt at a historical rendering that falls flat by purposely ignoring chronology. And Durrell rambles; of course he is witty and brilliant, but no one can always be brilliant over asides that take perhaps half of this 1,300 page block.

The Quintet remains readable and in many parts absorbing, but it is for true devotees of the author. I wonder if Durrell was tainted by the French `nouvelle vague', which seems to have influenced the book's construction and characterisation, or whether he was simply aiming too high in trying to exceed his own, unmatchable masterpiece.


A Menage in Provence, 18 Jan 2008
No-one quite captures the spirit of time and place like Lawrence Durrell. He defined for all time pre-war Alexandria in the famous Quartet, and, as I embark on a second reading of this voluptuous melancholic odyssey, I realise that, even if outside the rain is falling, I can always transport myself to a land of olive trees and cafes in shady squares in the pages of this book.
Here it is a group of friends and a chateau in Avignon and Vichy France; there are Templar legends and gnostic rites, there are jolts, time-shifts and multiple viewpoints. It is Durrell at almost the top of his game. (The top i.e. The Alexandria Quartet being very high indeed)

Durrell's experimental first effort, 24 Sep 2006
Tale of the protagonist's journey from childhood in India to adulthood in the UK. Sprinkled with gothically-depicted ex-pat inhabitants of a Bohemian London setting, in a 1930's version of 'Fawlty Towers' as described by a narrator name Lucifer.
Most characters meet an unpleasant demise.
A cynical, jaundiced work, expressing adolescent anger.


A whimsical yet sharply satirical odyssey., 27 Apr 2000
This book is one which Durrell fans will be led to but has until now been hard to find. It is hard to know how much is translation and how much is Durrell's own adaptation of Royidis' novel/history - his voice is audible throughout. Considering Royidis was excommunicated for this story on its publication in 1886 the reader may be surprised by the lightness, the sheer smiling humour with which the tale is told - but that is the art. All the points made are so recognisably true as to make one smile and laugh out loud and one imagines the churchmen of the time wondering how to counter the sheer good natured honesty of the thing. Its condemnation of the church is one that is age-old and concerned with honesty and hypocrisy but it reflects more on the whole human than the religious one. A light read that will remain a favourite and capture anyone with an interest in character, history and the zoo of medieval Europe.