I always strain to remember which friend has recommended a given book, but there is no doubt as to which friend gave me this one... and I wish her to know that I am eternally grateful, albeit a choice I almost didn’t make. After all, it just didn’t seem my kind of book, but perhaps in choosing our reading material, going outside our comfort zone is sometimes fortuitous. In this particular case it was serendipitous.
This is a book about a seduction, one accomplished by an older mysterious foreign woman of a younger English man. Reading this book, I cannot help but think of a comparison to our modern world and how little anticipation and true desire play in our lives any longer, at least in any significant way. We are so used to our immediate and total gratification, all we can gain by restraint is some callous display of our tantrums, usually in the form of some violence which we deem necessary. Indeed, I thought of how we are obliged to become temperamental and angry if we are kept waiting for very long. In essence, this book made me think how strangely, in our age, we both immediately possess all that we find valuable and how quickly we discard the same things we once loved as if they were mere banalities.
This book was scandalous at its time, the early 20th century, almost ruining Glyn’s reputation as a writer. However in what is no longer scandalous but merely erotic, perhaps she gives us an intimate look into how passions play out and grow into something more significant, without displaying any scene which is truly realistic for our modern lives. Just as in those who have believed in reincarnation, we can each imagine ourselves as Cleopatra but very seldom as her chamber maid. While reading, each woman is transformed indeed into the royal lady of the Balkans just as every man is the young inexperienced English gentleman with rugged good looks and enormously latent passion, on vacation with his father’s money. It is all too much fun to miss losing oneself for this relatively easy read.
This book demonstrates a continuity, one which progressively waxes and wanes in a special manner, transforming the characters in ways which neither could have anticipated beforehand. Indeed some of the woman’s fatalistic outlook is merely clouds of her bad experience, and the young man’s lack thereof a kind of road to maturity and understanding. It has perhaps lost a bit of giddy excitement to the passage of time and our sense that we know so much more about everything, but it is not short on the ideas of how love ought to both lead and teach us about our own lives.
While boredom moves us to something more exciting today, these lovely characters are led by a kind of serendipitous need and perhaps design. This results not just in the shining of the sun on the great lake of their languor, but also the sad and misty rain which eclipses the lake from the heights of the mountain. In becoming so, it is both quite unusual as well as quite beautiful. I also encourage readers to stop and look up the classical references which seem so unimportant in an age where opinions are seldom required to have any substance. In reading this, as it should always be, restraint and contemplation garners the greater resultant and lasting pleasure.
Still I began to think of our modern era, how our love interests make use of experience for different reasons, to accomplish those things which we have already accomplished, albeit imperfectly just before. I was thinking of how experience today plays into the hands of those who seek love, but is so quickly bypassed after their minimal pleasure in search of the next experience. This book, then, gives us glimpses into a different kind of love, perhaps, one both lofty and insecure, but without lacking continuity.
If you ask whether this is a life changing book, I would suggest that it is probably not so. However this is a book about a time that has left us behind, not one better or worse, but one in which one was still capable of learning some sense of a life lesson through his or her experiences. I was thinking that although we learn of skills and things today, we have long ceased learning about ourselves all that much, rushing to get on and leaving our lives to the consequences of our fate.. We have plenty of experiences and indeed, nothing in this book is quite so shocking today as we push through the boundaries of tastelessness in search of experience, but this book has a cohesion in it, not only of learning but especially concerning love. Perhaps this is just my way of suggesting that the subtlety of tiger skins trumps the excitement of vampires.