[pavilionnotebook]

The Maias-- Eca De Queiroz

This is the first work of his I have read. The meat and bones of the narrative for me is artistically at the very least on a level with Flaubert or Zola. De Queiroz is more of a ‘show-er’ than a ‘teller’ than any of the French Realists/Naturalists, more similar to modern authors than most 19th century writers. The prose maybe more efficient and fluid than any of the french masters. To elaborate on this vague reference, I get a feeling as reader, rightly or wrongly when I read a passage by Flaubert, I get a sense of the prose being labored, agonized over. With De Quieroz, after a few scenes I feel I am reading someone who is in total command of his craft, that the author has about a much difficulty writing the lines I am reading as combing his hair A few deft strokes and the nuances of scenes resonates deeply beyond the five senses. For example, the ever -present roses in all the male characters boutanneirs bespeaks De Quieroz satirizing Lisbonites of that era love of style over substance.

A fine Balzacian array of (mostly male) main characters. Most are memorable, finally drawn and go beyond mere flat types. Though you could find some of the society types found in The Maias, in the The Human Comedy, they are not mere stereotypes like drawing room silhouettes. They are unique and can be more apt to change and less apt to be predictable. (A trait I admire in literature when I find it more and more).

Things/characters take place in a binary form. With the great exception of the two Maias, the grandfather Afonse, the old school Portugese, and his grandson, our hero Carlos, repsresenting the 'new' Lisbon, they aren’t really foils or contrasts, and the relationships between schools of thought (Liberals vs Socialists, Naturalists vs Positivists?), the human relationships of the characters for that matter are not symbiotic. The societal and individual human juxtapostitions are incapable of dialectic, in any sense 'healthy' or capable of procreating...society, nor individuals ultimately benefit from the kind of relationships found in the novel.

The subtle recurrence of the Rose in the japanese vase losing its leaves in Ramelhut echoes the inevitable dying off of beauty that is ephemeral and merely cultivated for aesthetics. The hero and his merry band of society most-eligible bachelors are all dilletants, they talk and spend big, but contribute nothing to their society. The lone exception is Afonso, the older Maias. His is the lone voice pleading that their culture needs a shot of Voltaire's Pangloss...’No one is raising Vegetables’ he complains at one point. He is the only one, who is not one of the hollow men, seen in small discrete narrative snapshots helping out the poor with contributions of work, food or money in back doors or alley ways..

Last, tho I hate plot delineations (just a personal character flaw). The knock on the novel that its plot is simplistic and not dramatic, I will argue, though while true to a point, it reflects De Queiroz theme that satirizes Portugal’s cultural malaise. In a society characterized by its enervation, nothing truly meaningful takes place. It is ALL style, NO real substance. The gardens are all for decor, there is nothing cultivated of sustenance. An interesting aside, twice the protagonist in passing was called a "weed". At one point Ega, (great sidekick of Carlos that bears a lot of resemblance to the a younger De Queiroz) after an oration by a nationally acclaimed poet at public performance: What does it matter what he said, it was done in great style, and that’s what we Portugese thrive on (I am paraphrasing). Of the three challenges to duels in the novel, none are acted on!

I did understand this book was to be part of a larger series, or scenes of society and that De Queiroz abandoned the idea, it still is a complete work and an very interesting read. Its in the 4-5 star range and I only have to back off from 5 stars as some chapters have enough detailed historic-political focus that was borderline overwhelming for this reader personally, as I am not a fan of indepth political history dramatization.

A surprising introduction for me into a writer I had no familiarity with.

I just ordered Cousin Basilo and look forward to reading it, Father Amaro and The Relic.

[nannysuetle]

The Maias is the greatest Portuguese novel ever written and E?a de Queiroz is one of the unjustly-forgotten giants of 19th century literature. This novel is a lovely portrait of Portuguese society at te turn of the century; to talk of society is to talk of Lisbon, of course, the heart of the country. And what E?a (we don't call him de Queiroz) shows, is that Lisbon was just full of futile, vacuous, ignorant people who borrowed all styles and fashions from foreign countries, had no intellectual or cultural interests, talked a lot about doing great things, but in the end brought nothing to completion.

Just like nowadays.

E?a is so admired because he managed to verbalise the essence of the Portuguese. I don't think any other writer ever understood us so well as E?a did. Or had so much fun ridiculing our little ticks and mentality.

Cousin Basilio is a worthy choice for his next novel. But anything by E?a is really good. My favorites, for their humour and uncompromising satire, would be The Relic and To The Capital; this one is similar to The Maias, but for literature lovers it has the additional pleasure of seeing E?a write about a pretentious writer who think he's great.

[pavilionnotebook]

Cousin Basilio is a worthy choice for his next novel. But anything by E?a is really good. My favorites, for their humour and uncompromising satire, would be The Relic and To The Capital; this one is similar to The Maias, but for literature lovers it has the additional pleasure of seeing E?a write about a pretentious writer who think he's great.

I am unfamiliar with how to add or change the font when I post to suit the language thus my englishing of his name ...

I was so impressed with this book. I had just within the last few months read some giants of 19th century continental fiction (Stendhal, Balzac, Flaubert, Turgenev etc), Eca's prose style in The Maias is so nuanced, lyrical yet economical and a perfectly calibrated authorial distance. I find I am more easily apprehending his text more readily than those I mentioned. Turgenev's I liked as well as Eca's based on Sketches only...and not to construe I don't appreciate the others immensely, it just that Eca's style is closer to a more 'modern' register. With him, I am not listening to myself think in the narrative interlocutions, as in Balzac and Stendahl, 'ok, this is where my implied author reading/buddy is putting his arm on my shoulder and offering comments on his story or making generalizations based on it.

A brief example of his stlye, the 'frame' of Carlos and Cruges riding in a caliche on their way to Sintra:

"On either side, as far as the eye could see, the land was dark and sad, and high above them, in all that solitude the endless blue sky seemed equally sad. The horses hooves kept up a steady trot, beating monotonously on the road. There was no other sound; occasionally a bird would cut through the air, flying fast, fleeing the bleak wasteland. Cruges, heavy with eggs and sausage, was staring vaguely and glumly at the horses' lustrous rumps"

The Margaret Costa english translation was awesome BTW.

Do you recommend The Mandarin? Borges likes it, most other critics don't treat it as being on par with his best...

[nannysuetle]

I discovered E?a de Queiroz through The Mandarin. And I discovered this novella through Jorge Luis Borges too. It's a dark fantasy about a man who makes a deal with the Devil to inherit a Mandarin's fortune and then is haunted by his ghost. But it's mostly a satire.

I don't know about international critics, but in Portugal they probably dislike it because: a) the Portuguese just dislike fantasy in general, although all the great Portuguese writers dabbled in it at one time or another: Pessoa, Jos? Saramago, Aquilino Ribeiro, M?rio de S?-Carneiro, Almada Negreiros; b) it's just not what people expect from a realist like E?a; c) the Portuguese don't really like humor.