The Magus
By John Fowles
This review is dedicated to those souls lurking in alt.books who have been wondering what all the fuss is about.
Its size is impressive. A vintage hardcover copy is 2 ½ inches thick, approximately the same shelf width as James Joyce's Ulysses but infinitely more readable. Allow me to let you in on a secret: Despite the epigrams (in French, Greek and Latin), The Magus is a fun book. At 583 pages of romance, mystery, intrigue, magic, sex and not just a little bit of humor, this is an ideal vacation novel. It should be savored, like a box of fine chocolates, rather than devoured like a Snickers bar on the way to work.
Add a little sea air to provide the right reading atmosphere. Ideally, a few weeks in a villa on a Greek island, perhaps an Atlantic crossing by tramp steamer or a more prosaic, but no less delightful long weekend at the Jersey shore should be just the ticket.
Now that you're settled in your hammock or comfortably situated on deck, out of the wind, get ready to be enchanted. First and foremost, this book requires a willing suspension of disbelief. That is, the reader will be bewitched by the story or will throw the book down in disgust saying, "Get real!" and search for solace in something by John Grisham. The action doesn't take place in our time, at least not what we think of as "our time". The chronological year of the story is 1953, but that becomes irrelevant, as the intrepid main character, Nicholas Urfe soon finds out.
Whether he's subtly thumbing his nose at the British public school system (that's private school to us Yanks), indulging in prankish wordplay such as calling one of the main characters "Conchis" (say it out loud, "ch" as in Charles), or leading the reader on a delirious romp through a psychological maze, John Fowles manages to entertain the reader on several levels at every turn of the page and twist of the plot.
The title is the singular form of "Magi", which many will recognize as the three wise men from the east in the Gospel of St. Matthew. A magus therefore, is a wise man. Magus is also the name of the first card of the Tarot or fortune-teller's deck of cards. For readers who enjoy an intellectual puzzle, this is the first of many portentous symbols, clues both genuine and false, or, if you will, guideposts to the deeper, philosophical layers of this work.
Epigrams seem to have faded out of literary fashion, but at one time they were fashionable and meant to illuminate the preceding text. Mr. Fowles' citations of the Marquis de Sade in the original French, and his considerable use of Greek and Latin epigrams without providing translations, would have been suicidal in the current publishing climate. Bearing in mind that this book was first published in 1965, and that the story can stand without them, it is easy to forgive this scholarly author his literary conceit. However, if the reader can read French, Latin or Greek, this ability will certainly add more texture to the novel and make for some interesting mental aerobics.
Do not, by any means, approach this novel with reverence and expectation of finding life's mysteries revealed in bold print to make things easy on the reader. Do read this book if you're in the mood to be enchanted and entertained; you may come away with some interesting insights to the vagaries of truth, love, and of course Einstein's "Theory of Relativity".
Enjoy, and bon voyage!
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Also by John Fowles: The Collector, The Aristos, Daniel Martin, and more.
If El Niño's getting you down, why not take a sun guaranteed, cheap vacation to the Caribbean? For the price of two good bottles of sunscreen, you can be transported for a few hours to Anthony C. Winkler's Jamaica.
My own journey began in "The Painted Canoe", a novel that tells the story of Zachariah Pelsie, a poor deformed fisherman and his struggle against the world and everyone in it. That sounds extremely heavy, but Mr. Winkler reveals his truths through humor and a deft use of attenuated Jamaican dialect, ensuring that this novel goes down like a smooth planter's punch.
Zachariah, the most stubborn man in Charity Bay, was born to a woman who was convinced that her son's ugliness was the result of her own sins. She takes him to several doctors who find nothing to be wrong with him. After this she is convinced his ugliness was caused by a voodoo curse and she has her child beaten during Sunday services by the parson of the local church. His childhood is miserable. He was continually taunted with the nickname "goatfish" so that as soon as he could he moved from his childhood home. He moves from place to place always met by people who torment him and call him unflattering nicknames, until at Charity Bay, he finds a home where people call him by his rightful name. There he works as a fisherman, meets and marries Carina, has children. Ironically, he christens his fishing canoe, the "Lucky P." after his mother.
The best fishing in Jamaica is, like everywhere else, at night. The fishermen take their canoes, lanterns, and hopes for a good catch with them when they put out to the dark waters of the bay. The greatest fear of the women of Charity Bay is that the men, particularly the older ones, like Zachariah will fall asleep in the long night and be carried out to open sea with the tide. This is exactly what happens to Zachariah…
Zachariah is the most vivid character of the book, but Mr. Winkler lavishes detail on the other characters as well without bogging the reader down. Carina rises from the pages, magnificent and strong, George, Zachariah's son, as stubborn as his father leaves a lasting impression. The village doctor, the local policeman, Mrs. Lewis and the other fisherman are not so much sketched as sculpted with words, in the round.
This visit to Jamaica will take the reader beyond the gorgeous hotels and famous beaches to the most intimate interiors of the humblest homes and souls of his characters. Depending on the breadth of your own imagination, you may hear music playing in the background: Desmond Dekker, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, the Fugées---definitely a read fit for the hammock or hot bath, whatever suits your latitude.
I dare you not to smile to yourself at the last line.
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Going Home to Teach
By Anthony C. Winkler
(Kingston Publishers, Ltd. ISBN 976-625-075-8)
This book is non-fiction. It is Anthony C. Winkler's account of moving from the United States in 1975, to return to his native Jamaica for a year-long teaching position at a rural teachers' training college. With the political climate in Jamaica at an all time low, family and friends tried to dissuade him, but, as he says in his book, "Every fox likes the smell of his own hole, Grandfather used to say. I did not like the smell of America."
Although we are once again taken to the interior of the island, away from the tourist scene, this time it is farm country, leafy, sun-dappled days and dark, quiet nights. In contrast to "The Painted Canoe", the characters in this book are not sculpted, but sketched with a loving hand. Mr. Winkler relies heavily on conversation, accent and tone to depict the people of this book. A different technique than in his novel, but just as effective in making the people come to life.
The most fascinating aspect of this book, for me, was the issue of racial confusion. After living for some time in the Netherlands Antilles, I was feeling confused as to where I belonged, racially. I had assumed, after reading "The Painted Canoe", that Mr. Winkler was of Afro-Caribbean descent, and was surprised to read in "Going Home to Teach" that he was not. His vignettes describing this aspect of island life helped me to clarify my own position. At one point, Mr. Winkler and his brother were refused entry to a restaurant by the maitre d', because they were not wearing proper dress. Both men were wearing Karebas (traditional island dress) instead of suits and ties. President Manley had just ordered a decree that the Kareba was to be considered formal dress but not everybody was buying it. An almost farcical incident ensued involving "a white Jamaican clad in a Kareba and lapsing into Jamaicanisms and occasional patois, and the black Jamaican dressed and speaking like an Englishmen." Simply, but elegantly as he puts it, "Black in Jamaica is less a colour, and more like a way of being."
This book is entertaining and thought-provoking at the same time. At 268
pages, it seems ridiculous to call it "meaty", but if you consider filet
mignon…
A truly excellent read.
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