This is an important work of world literature, and I'm glad to have had a chance to read it in the early days of its new English translation. It's so important I'm going to make a direct association with another book, The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky, one of the great Russian epics everyone admires.
At Twilight They Return isn't a Russian epic, though, it's Greek. Greeks have had a rough time of it, culturally. They hosted the Olympics, and that turned out to be a horrible economic decision. Since At Twilight was originally published in 1994, pop culture has become more familiar with Greeks from stuff like 300 (which celebrated the very warrior culture Greeks themselves wanted to suppress, other than in the glorious past as seen in The Iliad), the Percy Jackson series (which author Rick Riordan seriously posited as making Greek myth more relevant than at any other point in history), and yes, My Big Fat Greek Wedding (which was mostly about the wonders of Windex, I think). All of which probably seems Greek to actual Greeks. I don't know, I could be wrong.
Either way, I experienced that kind of literary confusion when I read Faulkner's As I Lay Dying in high school, which like At Twilight and Brothers Karamazov was all about exploring the various facets of a single family. I was never as convinced as other readers that Faulkner really nailed it. I may have to reread it someday. But when I read Karamazov ten years back I had no such reservations. Dostoyevsky chose to go as big as you can get in literature, using a murder investigation to tackle the secrets of the universe. If he were making films today, he'd be Terrence Malick. But he also did a wonderful character study of a whole family, the eponymous siblings and their father.
That's exactly what Zyranna Zateli accomplishes in At Twilight. If (in my opinion) Faulkner went too small and Dostoyevsky went too big (Karamazov never really seems to contend with Crime and Punishment for the bulk of Dostoyevsky's legacy, probably because it asks too much of its readers), then Zateli finds a happy medium. She manages to write in a style that has become increasingly familiar to anyone who's been watching movies in the past twenty years. From Quentin Tarantino to Christopher Nolan, the nonlinear narrative has become about as mainstream as it will ever get. There's also a contemporary aspect to irreverence that creeps in around the edges of a story that's otherwise fatalistic, since Zateli chooses to approach the narrative from a distance, as events she's trying to convey about a family a hundred years in the past. Her ability to comment on as well as narrate the proceedings is one of the book's great strengths.
It's billed as "a novel in ten tales," but really it's one story split into diverging narratives, because there are a number of characters who contend for center stage. The three most important ones are the patriarch Christoforos, the unbelievably handsome Hesychios, and the repeatedly tragic Julia, but there's a wealth of rich characters around them. This is as close to a complete portrait of a family, regardless of the bad things that happen to keep happening to this family, as I've ever seen. It's ironic that I read a book about Daniel Boone earlier this year, because in a lot of ways, Zateli paints a portrait similar to the approach the author of that book did, from someone trying to recapture an earlier generation from the scraps of family lore. The Boones were a large, extended family, too, and that's something that's striking about At Twilight, too, something that's increasingly drifting into the past of American life, certainly (although I don't know how rare it might be in other countries), so on that score, from the perspective of a reader who remembers what it was like for previous American generations, that aspect of the book strikes a considerable cord and reason enough to appreciate Zateli's efforts.
But the storytelling itself is great. While I can appreciate Christoforos as the nominal lead character, and how Julia tends to steal much of the book, Hesychios lays claim to Zateli's best writing, whether in his youthful efforts to escape a cultural tradition that probably seems barbaric today, even though it's only a hundred years in the past (far too often we're happy with myopic views of life) or eventually marrying the woman he stumbled upon later that same day. When Zateli finally reveals that catharsis, it's the element she needed to justify the whole thing, a sprawling work that might otherwise have come off as a series of unfortunate events (no offense to those books intended!), which is too easy a theme for any storyteller to be allowed to get away with on that level alone, even though far too many storytellers try. From that single revelation you can see how all the other dominos fall around it, and so from there see what Zateli was getting at, how all these isolated incidents, these isolated lives, have greater significance than they can sometimes seem. By combining them all into one big family, she can give further resonance to the human story great fiction always tries to tell, going well beyond what most fiction actually does in the process.
So yes, this is a classic. Greeks have long thought so, and I think they were completely justified. If more readers had been aware of this book, these past twenty years, maybe not just the Greeks would be standing more proudly today, but the rest of us, too. That's what great storytelling ought to do, right?