Embers | Sandor Marai | The candle burns to its stub!

Embers | Sandor Marai | Great novel

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Embers

	Embers Sandor Marai Vintage, 2002 - 224 pages average customer review:based on 98 reviews view larger image
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highly recommended

Originally published in 1942 and now rediscovered to international acclaim, this taut and exquisitely structured novel by the Hungarian master Sandor Marai conjures the melancholy glamour of a decaying empire and the disillusioned wisdom of its last heirs.

In a secluded woodland castle an old General prepares to receive a rare visitor, a man who was once his closest friend but who he has not seen in forty-one years. Over the ensuing hours host and guest will fight a duel of words and silences, accusations and evasions. They will exhume the memory of their friendship and that of the General?s beautiful, long-dead wife. And they will return to the time the three of them last sat together following a hunt in the nearby forest--a hunt in which no game was taken but during which something was lost forever. Embers is a classic of modern European literature, a work whose poignant evocation of the past also seems like a prophetic glimpse into the moral abyss of the present

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The candle burns to its stub!

Embers is a fine story of two old men meeting after 41 years to have dinner and, basically, bring some resolution to the past. The first half of the novel details their youthful relationship, but the second half of the book is pretty much taken over by a retired general, Henrik. Throughout a dark night in a castle - in a forest! - Henrik recalls what happened to rupture the early relationship. Konrad, the man who has returned after a long hiatus, is mostly mute. Henrik's monologue is gripping and goes through the night until the candle lighting the room burns to its stub. ("Embers" is the English title, but "The candle burns down to its stub!" is, more or less, a literal translation of the Hungarian title. Either way, both titles seem to signify a mythic descent or journey into darkness to be undertaken before a new dawn).

Themes covered in the novel include friendship, betrayal, how society shapes our consciousness, and how the passage of a large chunk of time permits a sober reflection on events motivated by passions that have burnt out (like a candle burned to its stub!). The novel is short, well-written and presumably well-translated. It's a gem from early-20th century Hungary.

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Great novel

This is not a plot-driven book, so telling the whole plot is not ruining a thing. It is about a man whose best friend has an affair with his wife. But, that is, of course, not what the book really is about. The book is really about obsession, grief, and mature acceptance, as well what human beings do with their brief time alive. The how the story unfolds is far more important than what it unfolds. As one reads the book, one may hope that there is a twist ending, that the truth that the husband character suspects is false, but it is not. Yet, there is a twist ending- there is no twist, and any real twist would likely have been far too contrived a scenario. For American readers suckled on plot above all else it should be stated that both the date of the book's publication, and the fact that it is European may leave many American readers bored, for the tale unfolds rather slowly, yet intricately, but the characterization is so good that the build up is more than worth the wait.
As this is the only work of Márai's yet in English, I do not know if the comparisons to novelists as Thomas Mann or Herman Hess are legitimate. Certainly, this book far surpasses anything the dull, hefty tomes of Mann hold, and there is a certain kinship with the obsessive nature of Hesse's Steppenwolf, and also the stripped down quality of Siddhartha, yet I will reserve final judgment on the writer, if not this book, which my wife got for less than three dollars at an overstock book store.

Others have also compared his simple lyricism and succinctness of sentence structure to magical realism, but this shows a poor critical eye, for the books of magical realism I've read, most notably Gabriel Garcia Marquez's dull, formless, and bloated works, are no match for the sheer power of philosophic and descriptive accuracy that informs this book. Márai needs no silly magical contrivances, for the memory of a lost world, to the General, is all the more powerful for its realism, and its loss, to him. In fact, I've often said that the reason philosophy is doing far worse than even poetry, these days, is that its purveyors are terrible conveyors of their ideas- i.e.- they are bad writers. Márai, in a sense, uses this book as a masque for a philosophic treatise on existentialism, and it is one of the best cases for that cause ever penned. Of his and Konrad's erst-friendship the General laments, `the eros of friendship has no need of the body'. Yet, there is something truly noble in the General, as he is not shown, as in many other novels portraying pre-Great War aristocrats, as a caricature. He is a dinosaur, to be sure, but they were wondrous, weren't they?

By contrast Krisztina and Konrad are pallid, but necessarily so, since they are filtered through the General's eyes. And Konrad, it seems, knows this, and knows the futility of denying the General's queries and accusations. Whether or not he actually did conspire to kill his friend, at the behest of Krisztina, and whether or not they were lovers, which seems likely, is beside the point, as Konrad seems to know, in his brief words, and subtle limning of actions, the General as well as the General knows him, or better. Perhaps he decides to let the General have his delusions of conspiracy, for it is his final revenge upon a man who he could not hide forever from, who bullied him as a friend, and constantly asserted his superiority at every opportunity. The General, early on, asserts the difference between mere facts and the truth, and by novel's end that difference is stark. Which man's truth- the General's or Konrad's- is real is as troublesome as mere facts can be, it seems. Yet, the General, despite getting nothing from his friend, seems satisfied in believing his elaborate reconstruction over four decades has to be true. In fact, the whole main plot of the novel is superfluous to the General, because at its end he knows nothing more of substance than he does at its start. But ignorance has never been more invested with pathos and intellect. Konrad, on the other hand, has moved on- whether over a love affair, or his resentment of his presumptive `friend'. He is the most enigmatic character, an artiste who knows himself, that he is not a real artist, but indulges his desires anyway, but also the wisest. In his silences a reader probably senses that his `side' of the story, be it not the General's idea of an affair, but Henrik's haughtiness, or something else, is truer than the General's. That Márai does not let him tell us his `truth' is a great writer knowing what he is doing, and `showing' by omission.

This is daring cliché, and greatness in action, for that greatness is the residue of such success. Those who see only a romanticized Age of Empire nostalgia- in the love of Vienna, the male bonding of a hunt, the portrayal of non-Europeans as noble savages, or Nini as nanny- miss the point that these are not stereotypes, but what still exists in the General's dinosaurian mind and memory, which are the real main characters, manifested by the monologues' narrative style This is why we only get a single flashback to set up the characters before the General's monologues subsume all. Because of this we get to see how distorted the General's views of things, trammeled by his own aristocratic morés, haughtiness and presumptions that all his acquaintances merely orbited about him, including likely his suspicions of his wife and best friend, are. Any further flashbacks would have utterly undermined the novel's approach and necessity of `telling' by the General, and the begging of the reader to draw their own conclusions from the cleft between what they interpret and what the General does.

These conclusions are, as Márai ends his novel, `like every kiss....a clumsy but tender answer to a question that eludes the power of language.' And such questions are not based upon plot revelations, but characters. The General is one of the most memorable in literature, and if Márai's other works even come near this one's greatness it will only be for the recognition of art lovers like Konrad- silent, anomic, but confident in what they know, and what others think.

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Closest to perfection this side of heaven

This novel may be "liked" or "disliked" depending on interests, inclination, and mood, but there is no getting around that in terms of its structure, conception, composition, language, and atmosphere it comes as close to being the perfect novel as is possible this side of heaven.

If you want action, rapid-fire dialogue, humor, or a dynamic plot, please do not read this book.

But if you want to immerse yourself in the lives of three individuals who lived during the last decades of the Austro-Hungarian empire, and experience the unfolding of an astonishing sequence of events in their intertwined lives, if you want to see the vast forests of Transsylvania in front of you, if you want to smell the interior of the stately mansion with its leather and old wood furniture and its oriental rugs and classical paintings, if you want to feel the humid morning air when the landlord goes out to hunt, if you want to reminisce about how cray-fish were still present in the stream near the house just a few years ago but no more, and if you want to experience the unadulterated human emotions love, jealousy, friendship, hatred, then find a secluded place and take this book and enjoy every page of it.

(And just a very quick compliment for the outstanding translation which possibly made the English version better than the original.)

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A still life of passion

Reading "Embers" is much like viewing a still life picture; the more studied and viewed, the more easily understood. Not a long or ponderous book, really a brief narrative made memorable by the beautiful way the story is told. The vanished world of the early 20th-century is startlingly clear, the main characters - two elderly gentlemen, a dead wife, and an engaging housekeeper - vivid and memorable. The main plot is as old as the hills, as it involves a love triangle and all of the subsequent heartache and upheaval which usually occurs. What makes this book unique is the quiet passion which colors every sentence, the grief for not only a lost love, but for a way of life and a code of conduct which are no longer valid. I've never read a book which more effectively examines the human heart. Highly recommended.

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Passion v. reason

*Spoilers*

"Embers" is an enigmatic and philosophical novella that examines friendship, betrayal, and adultery. One evening, forty years after he last saw him, the protagonist invites an old friend to dinner. In flashback, we see their boyhood bond and learn about an incident that led to a decades long rift. The gentlemen - Henrik and Konrad- come from different classes but yearn for the same woman. Henrik marries her and Konrad has an affair with her. On the evening they last saw each other, something happened between the men that led to this long silence.

The arc of the story is shaped mostly by Henrik's point of view. He is self-righteous, imperious, and inquisitive. He pontificates about the nature of honor and friendship, and has a few questions he wants answered. Konrad's response comes late, but offers the novel its emotional weight.

This is a novel about passion and reason, about honor and friendship. It is written in a spare, matter-of-fact style that makes it an easy read. I was reminded a bit of Milan Kundera -- the style and the philosophical musings, plus the Eastern European location.

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