That Big Book between the Bookends

If you have been paying any attention to the picture of the books I am currently reading on the sidebar, you will have noticed that there is a big book there that doesn't seem to budge. It is the first book that started reading for this blog, and I am still only a bit more than halfway through. It is good, but not an easy read, and not worth picking up unless you can devote a good bit of uninterrupted time to it.

But I will persevere!

AMDG

A Sort of Life by Graham Greene

I purchased A Sort of Life from Amazon while I was writing this post for a series on Maclin Horton's blog, Light on Dark Water. I read or re-read five or six novels to prepare for writing the post, and I had planned to read this short biography of Graham's early life, but I ran out of time, and I never got back to it. Greene's novels, especially his four so-called Catholic novels, have as deep a Catholic sensibility as any I have ever read, but although he apparently continued to believe, he most emphatically did not live his faith in his later life which by some accounts was rather sordid. So, I have really wondered if I wanted to read an autobiography. However, when I opened this one, I found that it only covered the first 36 years of his life, so I thought I would give it a try.

What I found was that from the time he started school, Greene's life was fairly miserable. His father was the head of the school he attended and his home was in the same building as the school, but the conditions in the dorm were bleak. From what I've read about English boarding schools, they don't seem to have been unusual, but Greene could not adjust himself to constant noise and crudeness of the boys. Because I know from other reading that there is evidence that his sexuality was perverse, I wondered if something had happened at school to cause this, but he specifically says that the dorms were completely chaste.

One story concerning his time at school was very interesting to me. There were two boys who constantly bullied him and made his life miserable. Later during the war, he met up with one of them, and the man kept talking about what great times they had had together, and how inseparable the three of them had been. He wanted to get together socially to talk about old times. I wonder about this great discrepancy in perceptions and what the real truth of the matter was. Did Greene's mental illness color the way he reacted to the other boys, or had this man just forgotten how bad their behavior was? Maybe a bit of both?

It is probable that much of Greene's misery wasn't caused by the people around him, but from something deep within himself. He talks of his entire life as an attempt to escape from boredom. He was beset by many fears: birds, bats, moth, fire, and ". . . a witch who would lurk at night on the nursery landing by the linen cupboard." He made several unsuccessful and undiscovered suicide attempts, and had a serious breakdown when he was about 16, at which time he ran away and when found, refused to returned to school. At this point, he was put under the care of a psychiatrist with whom he lived for a while, and was eventually diagnosed as manic-depressive. Although he found the therapy very helpful, he later, in an attempt to escape the ever-present boredom, played Russian Roulette with a pistol he had found in his older brother's drawer--six times.

He says little about his wife Vivien in this book, probably because by the time he wrote it they were estranged, but he does talk about how their engagement caused him to investigate the Catholic Church. He says that he did not have any intention of converting, but was only trying to learn something about the faith; however, the more he learned from the priest, the more convinced he became that what he was hearing was true.

I would not recommend this book to anyone who is not really interested in Green for some reason. It is very dark, and has a hopeless feel to it.

AMDG

A Passage to India by E. M. Forester

[Aziz's friends] were discussing as to whether or no it is possible to be friends with an Englishman. Mahmoud Ali argued that it was not, Hamidullah disagreed, but with so many reservations that there was no friction between them. 

 Except for a description of Chandrapore, the setting of A Passage to India, this discussion begins the story, and for the rest of the book this question is being answered one way and another by the characters. The story is in the time of the British Raj, and revolves for the most part around the attempt of Dr. Aziz, a Moslem who works at the Government hospital, to be friendly with the Anglo-Indians. Most of them, including Aziz's boss, Dr. Callendar, regard Indians as something less than human, but there are a few who are open to his friendship.

During the above conversation, Aziz receives a message from Dr. Callendar to come right away; however, when he arrives at Callendar's house, the doctor has already left, and Mrs. Callendar comes out, and without even acknowledging his presence, appropriates Aziz's tonga (a kind of horse-drawn taxi). Rather dispirited, Aziz wanders into a nearby mosque to rest. As he is lost in his thoughts, he sees a ghostly figure among the pillars, and then is incensed when he realizes it is an Englishwoman. He calls out to her that she should not be there. She answers that she has taken her shoes off, and asks if it isn't it all right for her to be there under those circumstances. He tells her that it is, but it is so unusual for the Englishwomen to do this that he is surprised. The woman is Mrs. Moore, the mother of the new City Magistrate, Ronny Heaslop, and she has come to India to escort a young woman, Adela Quested, who is visiting her son. She has left the club, where Cousin Kate is being performed, to get some air. As they talk, Mrs. Moore and Aziz form a deep and lasting friendship.

Adela and Mrs. Moore are discontented with their life among the Anglo-Indians. Everything they do is so exactly like their life in England, and they want to see the "real India." This doesn't really meet with the approval of the other English, but the Collector, Mr. Turton, who is the highest ranking British official in Chandrapore, suggests they could have a "bridge party" so that the ladies can meet some of the Indians--not a party to play bridge, but a party to bridge the gap between the cultures. This party is a dismal failure during which there is no real communication between the Indians and the Anglo-Indians. The one saving grace is that Adela meets Mr. Fielding, the Principal of the Government college, who is not much involved with the rest of the Anglo-Indians, and he invites the ladies to tea at his home where they will meet Professor Godbole, a Hindu Brahman. Adela asks if he knows Aziz, and though he doesn't, Fielding invites him also.

During the course of day, Fielding and Aziz become great friends, and Aziz, rather overwhelmed by his happiness, invites the ladies to tea at his home. Almost immediately, he realizes what he has done. His home isn't nice enough to invite ladies for tea. So, he improvises on the spot without thinking (again). He suggests that instead of tea, they picnic at the Marabar (in reality Barabar) Caves, and the ladies agree.

Aziz is a very endearing and innocent character. He is so willing to be pleased and, as we have seen with Mrs. Moore and Mr. Fielding, he gives his love to people so eagerly that we are afraid for him, and with good reason. He knows nothing about the caves, but with the help of friends he manages to arrange a really magnificent outing; however, things do not go as planned. The ensuing events are catastrophic for the participants, and threaten to destroy Aziz's life. During the remainder of the book, we, and the characters, gradually learn the truth of the day's misfortunes, and how they affect the relationships between all those involved.

The cultural differences in Chandrapore are not only between the Indians and the Anglo-Indians, but also within the Indian community itself. There are always disagreements between Moslems, and Hindus; and between those who are more wordly, and those who are traditional. It's not just differences in ways of life or beliefs, it is the difference in the ways various cultures think. We may be able to learn the language of another culture, but we can really never be sure we understand what they are saying or thinking.

E. M. Forester only lived in India for a short time, but he obviously had many objections to the way the British ruling class lived and related to the Indians. Further on in the discussion that begins this post, one of the Indians says that some of the Anglo-Indians are all right when they arrive, but after a year, they are all the same, and for the women it only takes six months.   To emphasize this, Forester often talks about the officials by their titles instead of their names: the City Magistrate, the Collector, the Civil Surgeon.

There is a rather telling conversation between Mrs. Moore and her son Ronny after the bridge party.

[Adela] doesn't think [the Anglo-Indians] behave pleasantly to Indians, you see."

"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed, losing his gentle manner. ". . . Oh, how like a woman to worry over a side-issue!"

[Mrs. Moore] forgot about Adela in her surprise. "A side-issue, a side-issue?" she repeated. "How can it be that?"

"We're not out here for the purpose of behaving pleasantly! . . . We're out here to do justice and keep the peace. Them's my sentiments. India isn't a drawing room."

While I was reading A Passage to India, I thought a lot about Rumer Godden's Indian novels and biographies. Ms. Godden's father was a British official in India, but he and his children were much more in touch with the "real India" than the officials in this novel. I suppose he was more along the lines of Mr. Fielding.

As you can see in the picture of my copy of the novel, it fell apart while I was reading, and I lost the first part. Luckily, my husband had picked up another identical copy, in the giveaway section of the library, so I was able to look things up while I was writing. This one is beginning to fall apart, too, but it has some interesting notes in it.

In a few passages, Aziz talks about the Mogul emperors, especially Emperor Babur, whom he really admires. I had never heard of Emperor Babur, but the next day this picture showed up on my Facebook page.

Charbagh garden of Mughal Emperor Babur (1483–1530), c. 1590.

This was a very well-written and thought-provoking novel. It was Forester's last novel, although he lived for many years after it was published.

AMDG

Eleni by Nicholas Gage

About 20 years ago, I took a Greek class at the local Greek Orthodox church. One of the things I learned in the class is that on Easter Greek people greet one another with the phrase  Χριστὸς ἀνέστη! (Christ is risen!) to which one responds,  Ἀληθῶς ἀνέστη! (He is risen indeed!). Shortly after this, I turned on the television one day and the first thing I saw was a group of Greek villagers leaving the church on Easter and greeting one another in this way, so I sat down and watched the movie, which turned out to be Eleni. I thought it was quite good, although very sad, and so, when I found the book at a book sale, I bought it.

On August 28, 1948 Eleni Gotzoyiannis was executed by Communist guerillas. The official reason for her death sentence was that she had organized the escape from her village of 20 people, including four of her five children. They left because the Communists had instituted a program called pedomasoma in which village children were sent to Communist countries, ostensibly so that they would be kept safe from the violence and starvation caused by the civil war that was raging in Greece at that time. There were underlying reasons, however, and these were to indoctrinate the children with Communist propaganda, and to give the Communists a hold over the parents who would have to obey them in order to keep their children safe. This was at first voluntary, but the Communists underestimated the parents' determination to keep their children with them, and before long the children were taken at gunpoint.

Nikola, the youngest of Eleni's children who was nine when he came to the United States, always had an almost obsessive--well, maybe there was no "almost" about it--desire to find out what really happened to his mother, and who was responsible for her death. He also had a desire for vengeance. Now named Nicholas Gage, he became an investigative reporter, a job which provided him with the tools and means to investigate her story. For many reasons he was not able to fully do this until 1977, almost 30 years after his mother's death. At this point conditions in Greece finally being right for his investigation, he knew he had to move fast because many of the people who witnessed the events of 1948 were already dead, and the rest might die at any time.

Gage investigated every aspect of his mother's life. He writes, "The transcribed interviews [about 400] and the documents I collected--journals, letters, military reports, photographs, battle maps--fill a wall of files in my home." Eventually he was able to put together a narrative which begins with Eleni's marriage and ends with his meeting with the person whom he considers most responsible for his mother's torture and death.

Gage's father, Christos Gotzoyiannis, was a naturalized American citizen, who only visited his home village of Lia for a few prolonged visits during the 10 years of his marriage to Eleni. It was an arranged marriage, as was the custom, and his absence does not seem to have been thought unusual. At this time a bride on her wedding night slept, not with her husband, but with her mother-in-law. This symbolized that she now belonged to her mother-in-law, and often the new wives were treated very badly. Thankfully, Eleni had a very different experience with Christos's mother. They were very close. 

Due to Christos's position in the United States, the Gotzoyiannis were very well-off compared to the rest of the villagers, but even so, few of us would consider ourselves comfortable living the way they did. Eleni lived with her mother-in-law and children in a four room house with no electricity or plumbing. This was the 1940s, but her life was more like that of an American of the 19th century. She had some money from her husband, but she had to raise most of her own food. The above picture of Eleni, her five children, and her sister gives an idea of how difficult their life must been. Olga, the oldest of the children could not have been more than 15 at the time this picture was taken.

Of course the greatest hardship in their lives was the war. They were constantly threatened by the German invasion, and also by the two competing groups of guerillas who were fighting the Germans. After the war, the Communist guerillas, EDAS, took control of Lia and gradually brought about all the violence, fear and suspicion that come with a police state.

Before Eleni was tried and executed with four other citizens of Lia, she, and many others were imprisoned and brutally tortured. The great irony of the story is that this took place in her own home which had been commandeered by the Communist guerillas as their base of operations. She was imprisoned in her own kitchen. She was tortured in her own garden. Witnesses say that her last words before being shot were, "My children!"

This picture shows Eleni's children with their father and uncle on the day they arrived in the United States. Her other daughter was able to escape and join them later.

Obviously, this is a very difficult book to read. One of the saddest aspects of the book is the way that the villagers, who had known each other all their lives, turned on one another. One of the most damaging witnesses against Eleni was a young woman whom she had helped throughout her life.

As I mentioned earlier, Gage was interested in vengeance, and this adds an additional layer of tension to the story. He eventually reached the place where he had to stop. I wonder if in the ensuing 35 years he has been able to find a greater degree of peace. I hope so.

AMDG