Σταυροφορία χωρίς σταυρό

by Arthur Koestler, Βασίλης Καζαντζής (Translator)

Η Ευρώπη ζει την εφιαλτική εποχή της χιτλερικής κυριαρχίας. Δύο πρόσωπα, ένας ηττημένος κι ένας νικητής, διαλέγονται με φόντο τη ζωή και την ιστορία. Πολιτική, αυταρχισμός, επανάσταση, ανθρωπισμός και συναίσθημα είναι το σκηνικό της συναρπαστικής αφήγησης του Άρθουρ Καίστλερ. Και στο βιβλίο τούτο του μεγάλου συγγραφέα ο στοχασμός πάνω σε ζητήματα πολιτικής ευθύνης και ηθικής αποκτά οικουμενική σημασία, μέσα από τη σκιαγραφία του ανθρώπου που αντιμετωπίζει την προσωπική και την ιστορική του μοίρα.

Genres: Fiction, War, Literature, Novels, Historical Fiction, Classics, 20th Century

214 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1943

About the author

Darkness at Noon (1940), novel of Hungarian-born British writer Arthur Koestler, portrays his disillusionment with Communism; his nonfiction works include The Sleepwalkers (1959) and The Ghost in the Machine (1967).


Arthur Koestler CBE [*Kösztler Artúr] was a prolific writer of essays, novels and autobiographies.

He was born into a Hungarian Jewish family in Budapest but, apart from his early school years, was educated in Austria. His early career was in journalism. In 1931 he joined the Communist Party of Germany but, disillusioned, he resigned from it in 1938 and in 1940 published a devastating anti-Communist novel, Darkness at Noon, which propelled him to instant international fame.

Over the next forty-three years he espoused many causes, wrote novels and biographies, and numerous essays. In 1968 he was awarded the prestigious and valuable Sonning Prize "For outstanding contribution to European culture", and in 1972 he was made a "Commander of the British Empire" (CBE).

In 1976 he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease and three years later with leukaemia in its terminal stages. He committed suicide in 1983 in London.

Reviews

[Ed · Rating 2 out of 5]

Arrival and Departure is a deeply contemplative novel, though its concerns are too much rooted in the specific questions of mid-Twentieth Century European politics to be of much relevance today. There are some interesting ideas explored around culpability, and cause and effect, but these are not enough to sustain the novel.

[Csabi · Rating 3 out of 5]

Némiképp csalódott vagyok, de ez részben abból fakad, hogy elolvastam a fülszöveget, ahol ez áll: „… a forradalmárról szól, aki ráébred, hogy a hatalom az áldozatait is korrumpálhatja.” Na ezt szerettem volna olvasni, de ez nem volt benne a regényben. Először is Peter Slavek, főhősünk nem is valódi forradalmár, hogy is mondták ezt az átkosban?, potyautas?, nem, affenébe, nem jut eszembe a pontos szó, hiába, egyre távolodik a kommunizmus árnyéka. Szóval egy polgári származék, aki forradalmárosdit játszik, de ez is elég, hogy hazája letartóztassa, kegyetlenül megkínozza. Slavek megszökik, és itt kezdődik a regény, amikor megérkezik Neutráliába, egy semleges országba. Az első fejezet az itteni hányattatásait írja le, harcát a bürokráciával, hisz Peter harcolni szeretne a néven nem nevezett nácik ellen, de úgy tűnik, erre nincs lehetősége.
A bevezető után vártam volna, hogy kiderül, hogyan is korrumpálja a hatalom az áldozatát, de ehelyett a második fejezet egy szerelmi drámába torkollik, Peter megismeri a másik emigránst, Odettet. Ebből következően aztán nemsokára a szerelmi csalódás mocsarába keveredünk, és Sonia, a szintén emigráns pszichológusnő próbálja feltárni (sikerrel) Peter lelki problémáinak gyökereit, visszamenve a gyerekkorban elpusztult nyusziig. Szóval hosszasan nem arról szól a regény, mint amit várhat az olvasó. Én inkább azt szűrtem le belőle, hogy Peter tragédiáját elsősorban a családi traumák okozták, mintsem az ellenséges állam.
Egy idő után persze rátér Koestler a lényegre, megismerjük Peter mozgalmi múltját, majd különböző párbeszédekben ütközteti a kor szellemi irányzatait. A megfelelő rálátás érdekében még egy echte nácit is szerepeltet a regényben, bár azt nem sikerült megértenem, hogy mit keres ez az alak a semleges országban, az elvtársai által elüldözött emigránsok között, akik kedélyesen elkávézgatnak vele.
Néha azért felcsillan a könyvben a mondanivaló, a hatalom és egyén viszonya, kiszolgáltatottsága, de sokszor nagyon is brossúra ízű párbeszédekben vagy monológokban fejtik ki a szereplők a világnézetüket. A második világháború emigrációja iránt érdeklődőknek érdekes olvasmány lehet, de önmagában elég didaktikus és csapongó könyv.

[Banbury · Rating 3 out of 5]

The rating of three stars on this book does not reflect the book uniformly, but rather is an averaging because some parts are really good, and some parts are really disappointing. It is a good bildungsroman in that the hero of the story comes to know the way the world works, where he fits into it, and what his proper actions should be. However, that he finds it out in large part by the Freudian analysis by a large woman is gimmicky and cliched. The mid-Twentieth Century male illusion that an ideal woman really wants to be raped by a man (so long as he is not too bad looking) and that she will thereafter fall in love with him (but not demand he love her) is on display and shows the author's misogyny, and is too simplistic. The really good parts are the way the hero plays off the stories of history and literature. There are Biblical echoes of Cain and Abel in the recounting of his brother's injury; a bit of the hero being a knight on a crusade in dream of a man in a mail suit with a cross; Hints of both Milton's Paradise Lost and Hobbes's Leviathan in the name of one of the ships (the other ship called "Speranza" referring to youthful diffuse hope). Ultimately, it is a book against the forces of modern collectivization, and standing for the noble loneliness of the individual who stands against those forces.

[Paradoxe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Σας έχει τύχει κάποτε να πάτε επίσκεψη και να σας καλέσουν στο τραπέζι, μ’ ένα πεντανόστιμο γεύμα, φτιαγμένο με τα πιο απλά υλικά; Έτσι είναι κι ετούτο το βιβλίο: απ’ την πρώτη σελίδα προσκαλεί σε κόσμο ταπεινών λέξεων που συνθέτους εικόνες. Το τέλος των προτάσεων οργανώνει παραστάσεις, αθώες σε μια ‘’Ουδετερία’’, ικανές να επισύρουν αβάσταχτες ποινές οπουδήποτε αλλού. Εκεί που είναι έγκλημα να έχεις καλές προθέσεις ως δείγμα αδυναμίας και σχηματίζουν τσιγκέλια που σε πνίγουν με τα λάθος γιατί. Εκεί που τα πάντα του κάποτε θα χαρακτήριζαν την Ελευθερία και τη Δημοκρατική Ηθική, είναι εγκλήματα μαλθακότητας.
Μα δεν είναι μόνο μάνα που γεννά εικόνες το βιβλίο, γεννά έντονα συναισθήματα, σκέψεις, ίσως κι ακραία: λαγνεία για μια μικρή Γαλλίδα, συγκίνηση απ’ τα λόγια μιας πρώην φοιτήτριας, μένος ικανό να πλακώσω τη Σόνια στις σφαλιάρες στη σελ. 25.
Γράφει δυνατά, αλήτικα, λυρικά.

<<Το μόνο που ήθελε ήτανε να καθίσει κοντά της στο ανάκλιντρο και να της χαϊδέψει τα μαλλιά, μα τούτη η πεθυμιά του ήταν τόσο δυνατή, που ήταν ικανός να χρησιμοποιήσει βία, να την πονέσει μόνο και μόνο για να έχει το δικαίωμα να της χαϊδεύει τα μαλλιά και να νιώθει τις φλέβες να χτυπούν στο λαιμό της >>

Τι ήταν η Ισπανική Διαθήκη; Μια αναμονή στη διαδρομή για βέβαιο θάνατο, στην αναμονή που φορές σκοτώνει μέσα σε θηλιές παραφροσύνης.
Τι είναι η Σταυροφορία χωρίς σταυρό; Μια αναμονή στη διαδρομή για αποδοχή συμμετοχής, στο θανατηφόρο παραλογισμού πολέμου απ’ τη ‘’σωστή’’ πλευρά. Και τίποτα δεν απαγορεύεται σε τούτη την αναμονή, εκτός απ’ το συμβιβασμό με το παρόν κι ας είναι αληθινότερη η δαγκωνιά ενός φρούτου απ’ το μέλλον και νοστιμότερη απ’ το παρελθόν και πιο πραγματική απ’ τις ψευδαισθήσεις του. Είναι όμως και κάτι περισσότερο: η ανατομία του ανθρώπινου πηγαδιού με τα πάθη, τις αναμνήσεις, τα κατάλοιπα του και πως για κάθε βήμα προς μια κατεύθυνση πρέπει πρώτα ο κουβάς ν’ ανέβει γεμάτος καθαρό από ιλύ, νερό.

<< Όπως σου έλεγα τα τελευταία επτά βαγόνια είχαν Εβραίους. Με άλλα λόγια, δυο φορτία Χρήσιμους Εβραίους που τους πήγαιναν να σκάψουν στα οχυρωματικά έργα και πέντε φορτία Άχρηστους Εβραίους, γέρους κι αρρώστους, που τους πήγαιναν για να τους σκοτώσουν. Ύστερα ήταν δυο βαγόνια με πολιτικούς κρατούμενους, σαν το δικό μας κι άλλα δυο βαγόνια με νέες γυναίκες που τις πήγαιναν σε στρατιωτικά μπορντέλα: το ένα για αξιωματικούς, το άλλο για υπαξιωματικούς και στρατιώτες. Ύστερα, ήταν άλλα έξι βαγόνια, με ανθρώπους που τους πήγαιναν να δουλέψουν σε εργοστάσια, ή σε στρατόπεδα. Γι’ αυτό τα έλεγαν Τραίνα Μικτού Φορτίου >>.

<< Εκείνες οι στριγγλιές σου έσκιζαν το μυαλό και σ’ έκαναν να τρέμεις και να σπαράζεις και να θες κι εσύ να στριγγλίσεις μ’ όση δύναμη είχες και ν’ αρχίσεις να χοροπηδάς και να βαράς το κεφάλι σου >>.

<< Δε μπορούσε να φανταστεί ότι η σάρκα μπορούσε να νιώθει τέτοιο θανατηφόρο πόνο κι όμως να επιζεί και να τον νιώθει και να τον ξανανιώθει. Ύστερα ο πόνος έμοιαζε να έχει περάσει από τη ράχη του στο μυαλό του. Άκουσε τον εαυτό του να ξεσπάει σε στριγγλιές, ένιωσε την ουροδόχο κύστη ν’ αδειάζει και το στομάχι ν’ ανακατεύεται και να ξερνάει. Σε κεραυνούς και σιωπές, σκίσιμο του πετσιού, σπασμοί ασφυξίας και το βρώμικο σφουγγάρι στο στόμα για να τον κάνουνε να σωπάσει >>.

Ποιος χρειάζεται ανόητες δυστοπικές μυθιστορίες φαντασίας όταν πραγματικά υπήρξαν άνθρωποι που στήριζαν όρθιο τον παράξενο σταυρό με τα γυριστά άκρα; … κι ακόμη το κάνουν. Αν θες συναναγνώστη να μάθεις κι εσύ τι ήταν ικανοί να κάνουν δε σου βάζω άλλα αποσπάσματα αληθινά εφιαλτικά, να τα διαβάσεις μόνος σου. Θυμήσου μόνο, όταν το κάνεις πως αυτά γίνονταν σε δικούς τους. Φαντάσου λοιπόν, εκείνους που δεν ήταν…

Κάποτε, είχα ένα ατύχημα. Σκίστηκε το δέρμα μου. Ο πόνος κι ο τρόμος ήταν απερίγραπτοι. Δεν πίστευα ότι είχε παραπέρα, ώσπου είδα ένα γιατρό να χώνει το γαντοφορεμένο χέρι του μέσα απ’ το δέρμα του χεριού μου, για να βγάλει κομμάτια σοβά, πριν με ράψει. Φαντάσου να στο κάνουν ξανά και ξανά, όχι επειδή έτυχε, επειδή…

Μα υπάρχουν και μεγαλύτερα μαρτύρια: μια θελκτική φωνή σ’ ένα σώμα ερωτικό που τη στιγμή κρυστάλλωσης του στο νου σου, καταριέσαι… να βγάζει ένα – ένα τα γρανάζια σου κι ύστερα να τα πετά ανάκατα, αφήνοντας σε να βρεις τη σειρά, ή όχι.

Κι έπειτα αρχίζει ο τρόμος: είναι η τόλμη κι η αντοχή αξίες κινούμενες από μια καλή φυσιολογία, είτε πείσματα μιας πανάρχαιας αυτοτιμωρίας για όλες τις φανταστικές ενοχές, μα όχι για τις πραγματικές; Ποιος γίνεται ήρωας και ποιος σπάει; Μέσα μας, το καλό και το κακό, η επίγνωση και η ασάφεια, η συνειδητότητα και το ψυχόρμητο.
Υπάρχει πιο μεγάλος εφιάλτης απ’ τα σκοτεινά μέρη που η λογική αντίφαση κοιμάται σ’ ένα κρεβάτι παρτούζας με το χαρακτήρα και τη βούληση;
Κι όταν πια στέκεις καταξεσκισμένος να μη μπορείς να βρεις τη θέση των δαχτύλων και των σπλάχλων, τι θεάρεστη χάρη να συναντήσεις το ολοκληρωμένο κακό; Κι αν μετά ψυχορραγήσεις αποστρέφοντας το βλέμμα μπρος στην επίγνωση του καλού απ’ το κακό, υπάρχει πάντοτε η Διαστρέβλωση, η Διάκριση και η τελική Διάψευση.
Γιατί φίλε να τα περάσεις όλα αυτά όταν μπορείς απλά να περάσεις σε μια νέα Ουδετερία που κρώζει ιδανικά στα χαρτιά και πουλά νέον και προπαγάνδα μιας νέας τυποποιημένης τεχνοκρατίας; Ίσως γιατί μέσα στη φρίκη και στην απελπισία μπορεί να γεννηθεί εκείνο το είδος ομορφιάς που είναι για όλους κι όχι για κάποιους. Μπορεί να γεννηθεί μέσα απ’ την απαντοχή, να χαραχτεί με απόγνωση δρόμος αγάπης άξιος όλων κι όχι μιας στρατιάς που γυρνά στον κόσμο και σκοτώνει εν ψυχρώ με εκλογικευμένες διαστρεβλώσεις.
Γιατί μέσα στη φρίκη δικαιούσαι απελπισμένα, ονειροπόλα, ζωντανά, να πεις αυτό σε μια γυναίκα:

<< Ξέρεις τι τράνταγμα είναι για τον άντρα να βλέπει τη γυναίκα που αγαπάει να γδύνεται μπροστά του για πρώτη φορά; Βλέπει κανείς τη γνώριμη μορφή προσαρτημένη σ’ ένα κορμί που του είν��ι ξένο, σ’ ένα κορμί με το οποίο δεν έχει επίσημα γνωριστεί. Κι όταν το δεις μέσα στο πλαίσιο της γύμνιας, ακόμα και τούτη η μορφή αλλάζει και σε κοιτάει παράξενα. Όμως, το πιο ενοχλητικό είναι πως τούτο το γυμνό κορμί είναι απρόσωπο. Στις φαντασιώσεις, το βλέπει κανείς τυλιγμένο, με κάποιο εσώτερο μυστήριο και τώρα αποκαλύπτεται πως άλλο δεν είναι παρά ένα γλυπτό που αναπνέει. Ύστερα ανακαλύπτει την άλλη εκείνη πρωτόγονη μορφή που έχει για μάτια τις θηλές των βυζιών που κοιτάνε με την απόμακρη απόκοσμη θωριά τους. Στην αρχή σου φαίνεται απίθανο και απίστευτο. Ύστερα όμως σιγά – σιγά συμφιλιώνεσαι και μ’ αυτή τη δεύτερη μορφή >>.

Γιατί κάτι τέτοιο δεν είναι δικαίωμα του ελεύθερου μόνο να γευτεί, ή του δυνατού, μα και του φυλακισμένου, του αδύναμου, εκείνου που πρόκειται να πεθάνει σε μια Ουδετερία και μέσα σ’ ένα πόλεμο, γιατί καθένας το αξίζει. Και κανένας δεν έχει το δικαίωμα να το πάρει.

[Shane · Rating 4 out of 5]

The battle in this book is really between deeply held beliefs and rationalization.

Peter Slavek, a tortured ex-Communist, escapes from what I can only take to be the Nazi regime (labels are never given to either party), stows away on a ship and swims ashore to a state called Neutralia (which I took for Portugal or France, perhaps) where is taken in charge by an older woman, Sonia, a psychotherapist and friend of his family. Walking the streets of Neutralia while waiting for a visa to join the British army and get back into the battle, he meets and falls in love with a fellow refugee, Odette, who is planning to head off to America. Suffering a nervous breakdown due to Odette's abrupt departure after a ten-day love-fest, Peter is rehabilitated by Sonia through a rigorous process of psychotherapy, where his ills are related back to the guilt over the death of his brother, a guilt that causes him to throw himself into difficult causes, like fighting wars, and enduring torture.

Having rationalized his drives, Peter decides to follow Odette (and Sonia who also leaves for America after Peter’s physical and mental recovery is complete).

However, the battle in Peter’s mind, between his ethical belief and taking the easy way out, is still raging, and finally gets the better of him. Peter makes a completely different and an altogether unsurprising life decision.

I found this a gripping story. There are many forces at play here: the sexual tension between Peter and Sonia, between Sonia and Odette and between Peter and Odette, is palpable; the scenes of torture and of the killing of prisoners is grimly recorded and riveting to read, distasteful though they may be; even the clinical discussions on guilt and its implication on the physical body was a revelation to me. What was most revealing is how the body and mind behave under torture. Lines like, "Pain has its limits, fear has none" or, "Martyrdom is the vanity of the weakling" speak volumes in themselves.

This was also the first of the trilogy that Koestler wrote in English and despite some anachronistic words, the imagery and scene setting, the characterization and the tension are very well drawn. A good read for the non-squeamish.

[Jan-Maat]

The style of this novel feels far less adroit than the earlier Darkness at Noon, and it is certainly far less popular, but thematically the two belong together as a literary exploration of the political choices available in the 1930s. While communism, in it's Stalinist Orthodox form, required Rubashov to accept martyrdom - for the good of the cause. In this novel the hero has escaped, after imprisonment and torture, from the far right authoritarian government in Hungary to a neutral country, a fact helpfully made clear to us by Koestler by naming it "Neutralia".

Eventually, after psychoanalysis and a period in a love triangle, the hero escapes neutrality for a third angle, alternative to both Communism and Fascism. It is after all a book written in 1943 when there was a triangular alternative to both open to a fictional young man. Implicitly his neutrality before reaching a decision is not only political but also psychological, and he relates a dream (or maybe a 'dream') to his analyst of a Pythagorean figure suddenly realising that his obsession with triangles was subconsciously caused by being in a love triangle. In this dream his insight means that he doesn't go on to develop his theorem thus creating a dream world in which school children can be a littler happier, the suggestion is, and here I suppose we get back to the politics of the 1940s and beyond, that our nervous delusions formed to distract us from the truths we don't want to acknowledge are useful, they are creative - forming the world the around us, while our insights merely allow us to live in truth and with less mathematics.

What might be most interesting about this book, and this maybe Koestler subconsciously proving his own point here or otherwise put, that this reveals something of his own character to us, is that Darkness at Noon which is a pure fictional invention on Koestler's part in that he never was a respected Russian Communist arrested in a Stalinist purge, Rubashov's head space is the flower of Koestler's imagination is the more successful novel than Arrival and Departure which is semi-autobiographical.

[Petra · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting and thought provoking book on choices, moral commitment, the individual's needs vs the "greater" needs and why one may be the person one is.
Peter Slavek escapes from a regime of torture and terror, finds himself in a neutral country while he waits for a visa. His first wish is to go to England and help fight; the other option is to go to America where he'll be safe from war and all it holds.
While he waits for first one visa, then the other, he contemplates how his thoughts & ideas formed in early life, how his ideas were/were not altered during the torture he endured, his commitment (or not) to a cause, his ability & willingness to see it through (England) or live a happier life (America). Does one follow one's beliefs or does one take the easier way out? How much compromise does that require, what is the price to one's soul?
A small book with big ideas. Well written.

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emigránstörténet, és egyben a forradalmár lemegy pszichoanalízisbe, a’la Freud, hogy ott begyógyítsák azt a sebet, ami miatt végtére is a forradalmár-szakmára bökött a pályaválasztási tanácsadónál – ennek eredményeképp pedig meggyógyul, és végre bűntudat nélkül forradalmárkodhat. Peter egy nem megnevezett (de a náci Németországgal azonos) államból menekül Neutráliába – a fasiszták megkínozták, saját egykori elvtársaival pedig szakított (lásd még: Molotov-Ribbentrop paktum), szóval egyedül van, mint az ujjam. Végletes gyökértelensége pedig egyre nagyobb súllyal nehezedik rá – jellemző, hogy akivel mégis szorosabb kapcsolatot köt (lásd még: a szép Odett), hát arra aztán rá is cuppan, mint egy pióca vagy egy energiavámpír*. De ez sem segít, a mentális bajok pedig szervi tünetekbe mennek át, etc., etc… no mindegy, lényeg, ami a lényeg: szerencsére kéznél van egy kompetens pszichiáter, aki a gondjaiba veszi hősünket.

Az tutifix, hogy Koestler korai regénye nem olyan hatásos, mint mondjuk Remarque hasonló témájú könyvei – ahhoz túl mechanikusan akar okos lenni. És hát azt is gyanítom, hogy ez a pszichoanalízis-betét sem feltétlenül állná meg a szakmaiság próbáját – olyan „ahogy Móricka elképzeli a terápiát”-jellege van. Ugyanakkor mégis helyet követel magának a jelentős emigránstörténetek között, és nem csak azért, mert megelőlegezi Koestler morális és filozófiai témák iránti vonzalmát, ami aztán később a Sötétség délben-ben borul virágba**. Hanem azért, mert olyan markáns elszánással, olyan lobogó tűzzel megy bele az ún. „kemény kérdésekbe”, hogy már önmagában a szándék is gyönyörködtet. És bár ma már a direktben felvállalt tanító-szerep nem annyira kompatibilis az írói léttel (hála Istennek! soha többé szocreál!), de most valahogy jólesett ez a szent-naiv hevület.

* Nota bene: meg is erőszakolja. Ami nem válik attól elfogadhatóbbá, hogy az áldozat látszólag nálam sokkal empatikusabban fogadja ezt. (Kábé így: „Jaj, de édes fiú, csak hát nem tudja magát kifejezni rendesen szegény…”)
** Sőt, Raditsch, a regényben szereplő rendőrtiszt előtanulmánynak tekinthető a Sötétség délben kihallgatójához.

[Toby Newton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not especially readable or particularly well crafted, it's clunky at times and heavy on exposition, but the themes at the heart of Koestler's tale are meaty and, well, he does his best to grapple with questions and questions arising from questions that most mere mortals choose to leave well alone.

Three takeaways will stay with me - and that's at least two (and probably three) more than most fiction books I read. (1) Odette as an embodiment of the tension between men's "political" ideals and the simple fact of lust; (2) the Mixed Transports as an encapsulation of Nazi/bureaucratic/neoliberal dissociative madness; (3) the red and the blue tissue paper as a rather brilliant but, with hindsight, forlorn piece of socio-cultural analysis.

[Illiterate · Rating 3 out of 5]

Koestler looks at the unconscious roots of political choices. I enjoy the deflation of idealism. I sympathize with the idea that we nonetheless can’t escape ethics.

[Aviva Rosman · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fantastic book - about World War II, the Holocaust, and political torture, but also about why we do the things we do. Beautiful, simplistic, occasionally reductive, both specific and allegorical. Here was my favorite quote. "Yes, he submitted with open eyes, more 'in spite of' than 'because of.'...The first time he had set out in ignorance of his reasons; this time he knew them but understood that reasons do not matter so much. They are the shell around the core; and the core remains untouchable, beyond the reach of cause and effect."

[John · Rating 2 out of 5]

I enjoyed the start of the book even though I did not like the disguise the author seemed be so determined to keep up about so many things, like what country they were in . The entire middle of the book seems so unreal to me and the ending anticlimactic . Will try the other book by this author as it got better reviews.

[Kris McCracken · Rating 4 out of 5]

The third novel of a loosely-related trilogy that explores the conflict between morality and expediency and the ruptures that this conflict brings in the context of one's own nature and ideological standpoint. If you can suppress the urge to toss it aside through some extremely dubious thoughts on sexual consent and seduction, it's a great exploration of a tricky subject. B+.

[Rajat Narula · Rating 2 out of 5]

A dull account of events in the life of a revolutionary in the communist world.

[Annalisa · Rating 2 out of 5]

What an odd book this was. I gather it is semi-autobiographical, about Koestler's experience as a refugee in the middle of WWII. The country he lands in as a refugee he calls "Neutralia". I found the name so distracting as I was continually looking for clues about what country it could be. Turns out it was based on portugal where Koestler did actually land. At any rate, despite it's oddness, it was an interesting portrait of a person in limbo awaiting news of his fate at the hands of the authorities. I just wish he hadn't disguised everything. Perhaps he did that to try and neutralize any bias from his audience, or to raise the book to a higher plane, but I found it detracted from the potential power of the story.

[Shahed · Rating 3 out of 5]

چاپ اول - 2000 نسخه - مرداد ماه 1347

[Liquidlasagna · Rating 2 out of 5]

odd - dull - contemplative - unreal

is about the best things i've seen in all the reviews about this book

Here's about the best praise you might find for the book
though it's a bit undeserved

(However one extremely disturbing thing in the past 25 years is that when people are asked what the first word that plops into their head when they mention Koestler now, the word is rape. And many people reading the book read this story, and see a disturbed psyche of the author in the rape scene.)


"Since the 1998 publication of David Cesarani’s biographical study, Koestler’s name has been synonymous with rape, possibly serial in nature, and the abuse of women. I tested this association on several friends with literary interests: though none had read Cesarani’s book, in each case, the first thought on hearing Koestler’s name was of rape."

"There follows a scene that suggests that Koestler was as personally acquainted with rape as he was with the fervid atmosphere of wartime Lisbon."

"Odette’s reply absolves Slavek of any need to feel remorse: “The whole point is that if you knock a woman about for long enough and get on her nerves and wear her down, there comes a moment when she suddenly feels how silly all this struggling and kicking is, so much ado about nothing.” "

The book has the strangest place in history as one of the first novels to deal with the Final Solution, and the twisted psyches of the evil characters of the novel dismissing rape, are even more perverse when historians seems to now feel that Koestler himself was a serial rapist. So the book has a real reputation that didn't exist thirty years ago.

---

Amazone

A logical follow-on to 'Darkness at Noon

This is the last installment in Koestler's trilogy starting with The Gladiators (Vintage Classics) and Darkness at Noon . While the auto-biographical element of some disenchantment with the communist movement (Koestler himself was a member until 1937) is evident, the main topic revolves around the psychological reasons for becoming a communist in the first place.

The story follows Peter Slavek, an Eastern European communist, who after being tortured by the local regime that already sided with Nazi Germany, manages to escape to a neutral country. While the initial plan is to join the British in fighting Germany, a moral dilemma of sorts develops, where an alternative of a life in the US, free from obligations presents itself.

In the process Koestler has him submit to a round of psychotherapy, to establish his motives for becoming a communist in the first place, and where the desire to fight for the lost cause (of sorts) comes from. This is by far the most interesting aspect of the book and Koestlers widespread knowledge of the field (a modern reader will need to keep in mind that the book was written between 1941 and 1943) clearly shows. In a way it comes across as the author searching and justifying his own championship of lost causes, something he continued to engage in till the end.

In addition to this the book also brings to the modern reader another discovery, namely it shows the marketing message the Nazis used for intelligentsia - not so much based on racial superiority per se but on an efficient, state influenced (but with private ownership) distribution of resources and products and on a technology led new beginning - something much more appealing (even if it was only propaganda) than the message for the 'common man', and a message mostly forgotten today. In essence it very much previewed a vision of the European Union but based on conquest rather than co-operation, the justification being that co-operation with sovereign states was difficult or impossible.

Another element was also of interest - even though the book was written before the end of WW2, when Allies actually got factual evidence of the extermination camps, it contains many very precise descriptions of what was going on there, showing that in-depth knowledge of the holocaust actually existed earlier than was subsequently admitted to.

In conclusion, I would not say that the book is better than Darkness at Noon, it is much more a logical complement to it, written to the same, excellent standard.

Reading Koestler: The Indispensable Intellectual (much recommended) in parallel to it will also provide the reader with a bit of perspective on how this book fits in with the author's own life and experiences.

AJ

---

The weird thing about Koestler, is he likes to beat people over the head about the immorality and cruelty of politics and people, yet he was pretty much a charming monsterous lunatic at the best o times.

---

The Spectator

A dangerous fellow

Cesarani told me that he had begun his work as a Koestler admirer but had gradually turned against him in the course of his extensive researches. It would be unfair to call the book a hostile biography, but it left a nasty taste.

Michael Scammell’s new life is an attempt to redress the balance, and restore to Koestler some of the moral integrity damaged by Cesarani’s findings. He has done a great deal of hard work: interviewing a hundred or so survivors who knew Koestler, using unpublished letters and diaries and delving into the archives of MI5, the CIA, the French Sûreté and various Communist parties. There is a good deal that is new in the book, albeit nothing sensationally revealing. It is generally a good read, and while I do not think it succeeds in its main objective, it casts a lurid light on the ideological wars of those painful decades, the Thirties, Forties and Fifties. Those interested in Koestler will have to read both books, and make up their own minds which gives the truer picture of the man.

There is no argument about Koestler’s importance. His novel Darkness at Noon (1940), with its insights into the Stalinist trials and executions of Old Bolsheviks, is an extraordinarily powerful work. It is not the kind of classic you ever want to re-read, but at the time and long afterwards it did Soviet Communism more damage than any other work of fiction. In alerting intellectuals to the dangers of Marxism, Koestler may have been less influential than Orwell in the English-speaking world, but on the Continent he was unrivalled. Moreover he followed it up with constant lectures, speeches and writings and by taking a leading role in the Congress for Cultural Freedom, and ensuring the West won the Cold War intellectually, before Reagan, Thatcher and John Paul II won it politically and economically after his death.

It matters not that Koestler never again reached the heights of Darkness at Noon. The next 40 years were filled with literary activity on a huge variety of subjects, parapsychology, telepathy, abolishing capital punishment, the roots of creation, the way the mind works and other scientific and pseudo-scientific matters.

None of his books quite hit the jackpot again, and some were failures. If in the earlier part of his life he ran in tandem with Orwell, in the second half he was a doppelgänger of Aldous Huxley. Still, it is not given to many writers to produce one book of first-class importance. In 1998 a panel of writers and intellectuals from all over the world voted Darkness at Noon as the eighth best and most significant novel of the 20th century.

The question, then, is not Koestler’s status, but his character. Was he a brute, especially in his relations with women? All his adult life he was a tireless seducer of women, and on the whole a very successful one.

So much so, I would say, that he became a bit of a joke, especially after his seduction technique was brilliantly parodied by Simone de Beauvoir in her novel about cosmopolitan intellectuals, Les Mandarins (1954), which won the Prix Goncourt and caused many giggles on both sides of the Channel.

Unfortunately Koestler at times indulged in drinking bouts which brought out a darker side in his relations with women and may have been coloured by his own hatred of his mother, a significant feature of his life. Long after his death, Jill Craigie (the wife of Michael Foot) accused Koestler of raping her after a Hampstead pub-crawl, and the publication of this charge in Cesarani’s biography undoubtedly did Koestler’s reputation lasting damage. Zita Crossman may have been another victim, substantiating Dick Crossman’s accusation that Koestler was ‘a hell of a rapist’.

Scammell seeks to undermine Craigie’s accusation but does not do so successfully. I was shaken by his comment on sexual customs in the 1940s and 1950s:

That is quite untrue. Attitudes to rape half a century ago were essentially the same as today and Scammell’s comment betrays the weakness of his case. Koestler undoubtedly could be physically brutal to women.

He once admitted, ‘I felt it would be worthwhile to hang or do 20 years in gaol for killing a woman’.

Janetta Jackson said his relationship with her was ‘an odd mixture of consideration, thoughtfulness and extraordinary brutality’.

She added: ‘He was not the sort of man who was systematically violent to women or got pleasure out of it. It was just that he sometimes lost his temper and slapped you.’ Her conclusion was that ‘at heart he hated women’.


The truth was that Koestler was a man of many transient beliefs, and none. He had no religion. He was a Zionist, then a Communist, then a searcher for para- psychological mysteries. But he had no moral code by which to live, other than what he invented for himself at any one time. That made him, as someone of strong will and great brainpower, a dangerous fellow.

---

yeah that's the enigma
Kostler was a mega-hypocrite when it comes to brutality

a flawed guy
is an understatement

......

I read an article recently that the first word that comes to people's minds now when you say 'Koestler' is rape. And even more frightening to today's readers is that Arrival and Departture depicts a rape in great detail, and everyone thinks about the psyche of the writer and all his moralizing about evil.

Strange indeed

......

City Journal

As it happens, Koestler’s relations with women now have more to do with his reputation than does anything that he ever wrote. Since the 1998 publication of David Cesarani’s biographical study, Koestler’s name has been synonymous with rape, possibly serial in nature, and the abuse of women.

I tested this association on several friends with literary interests: though none had read Cesarani’s book, in each case, the first thought on hearing Koestler’s name was of rape.

It is doubtful whether any biography has ever affected the reputation of an author more profoundly than did Cesarani’s; and its effect is proof, if we needed any, that books have an influence far beyond their actual readership.

Cesarani is a serious scholar, not a man to manufacture sensational claims for non-scholarly purposes; and, in fact, his widely publicized revelations, which came as a considerable shock, receive a kind of confirmation from a scene in Koestler’s novel Arrival and Departure, published in 1943.

The book is at least partly autobiographical. Its protagonist (hero would be too positive a word) is Peter Slavek, a young refugee and former Communist militant from an unnamed Balkan country now under Nazi occupation. Slavek arrives in the capital of a neutral country—clearly Lisbon, Portugal—from which he hopes to reach England and enlist in the British forces, the only ones still fighting the Nazis at that time. Koestler himself reached England from Portugal with the same idea in mind, and his description of Lisbon’s wartime atmosphere clearly draws on firsthand experience.

While in Lisbon, Slavek falls in love with, or forms an infatuation for, Odette, a young French refugee awaiting a visa for America. Odette has taken no notice of Slavek, but one day she visits a friend’s apartment, where the Balkan refugee is temporarily staying. The friend is absent, so Slavek and Odette are alone. There follows a scene that suggests that Koestler was as personally acquainted with rape as he was with the fervid atmosphere of wartime Lisbon.

Slavek declares his love for Odette; she rejects him and prepares to leave. “He jerked himself to his feet, reached the door almost in one jump and got hold of her as she was passing into the hall,” Koestler writes. Then the author says of Slavek that he was doing what several rapists have told me that they sought to do—protect their victims: “As if the door were a death-trap and she were in danger of falling into it, [he] pressed her against him with a protecting gesture, while with his foot he kicked the door shut.” Odette struggles, but “her very struggling,” Koestler writes, makes Slavek’s grip “close tighter around her, like the noose of a trap”—not the activity of an agent but the operation of a mechanical contrivance.

The situation calms a little, and Slavek realizes that he should have let his arms drop with embarrassment, but then “she began struggling again in renewed fury, and this automatically made him tighten his grip.” Koestler describes Slavek as more terrified than Odette.

Then comes the actual rape:

She struggled breathlessly, hammering her fists against his breast . . . God, how unreasonable she was. . . . All he wanted was to make her understand that he didn’t want anything from her. . . . By her furious struggling she caused him to press her back, step by step, from the door. His lips babbled senseless words that were meant to calm; but now it was too late, the flames leapt up, enveloping him . . . . With blind eyes he fell as they stumbled against a couch . . . [and he] rammed his knee against her legs, felt them give way and a second later her whole body go limp.

After it is all over, Odette cries. Slavek takes her hand, and feels encouraged when she does not withdraw it to explain and justify his actions: “You know, I am not so sure that you will always regret it, although for the moment you are still angry with me.” Then he contrives to blur the distinction between voluntary and coerced sexual relations: “Nowadays things often start this way, the end at the beginning I mean. In the old days people had to wait years before they were allowed to go to bed and then found out that they didn’t really like each other, it had all been a mirage of their glands. If you start the other way round you won’t need to find out whether you really care.”

Odette’s reply absolves Slavek of any need to feel remorse: “The whole point is that if you knock a woman about for long enough and get on her nerves and wear her down, there comes a moment when she suddenly feels how silly all this struggling and kicking is, so much ado about nothing.” Sexual intercourse, then, has no more moral significance than urination or any other physiological function. “You probably think what an irresistible seducer you are, while in fact all you did was get her to this zero level where she says—after all, why not?” And to confirm the Slavek-Odette-Koestler theory, Slavek and Odette go on to have a short and intense love affair.

Koestler’s description of a rape seems to be from the inside; and if Cesarani is right, it gives us the very model of Koestler’s conduct and experience. He might even have suffered from (if “suffered from” is quite the right phrase) what psychiatrists call “coercive paraphilia”: sexual excitement brought on by the act of physical subjugation, a pompous name sometimes being the nearest that medical science can come to an explanation. Slavek’s argument, of course, is virtually a rapist’s charter. But the uncomfortable fact is that some of the women whom Koestler abused remained friends with him for the rest of their lives. It would take an entire book fully to explore all the evasions in the passage that I have quoted, as well as the social and psychological questions that it raises.

There is much more to Koestler, of course, than sexual perversity, even if it is difficult nowadays to read anything that he wrote without first donning rape-tinted spectacles. Arrival and Departure is not just about Slavek’s love life: it passionately engages with the most important political questions of the day.

For example, the book gave the most graphic description until then published of the gassing of the Jews in Eastern Europe, not as isolated massacres, but as part of a deliberate genocidal policy; and it drew an explicit comparison—now banal and commonplace, but then brave and arresting—between Hitler and Stalin, pointing out their similarities, despite their enmity.

.....

[Jack · Rating 4 out of 5]

A dark and sometimes depressing story of struggle against oppressive forces.

[Marianne Barron · Rating 3 out of 5]

Peter Slavek, tidligere medlem av kommunistpartiet i Ungarn, har klart å rømme fra hjemlandet sitt og kommer til "Neutralia", et nøytralt land basert på Portugal. Før han kom seg unna fikk han selv føle de skrekkelige uhyrlighetene som var i ferd med å oversvømme Europa i krigens kjølvann. Peter ble nemlig torturert nesten til døde for sitt engasjement i den sosialistiske revolusjonen, og han sliter med mareritt og psykiske problemer som ettervirkninger av dette.

I "Neutralia" treffer han på en psykiater som han kjente som barn. Han møter også Odette, en ung og vilter og hjemløs pike, og blir vilt forelsket i henne. Peter blir imidlertid dradd mellom politikk og kjærligheten til Odette og får til slutt et mentalt sammenbrudd som også paralyserer den ene foten hans. Han begynner å gå i terapi hos Dr. Bolgar, og hun finner "røttene" til Peter's mentale tilstand, en rekke traumatiske hendelser fra hans yngre dager i tillegg til torturen i hjemlandet i løpet av krigens første par år. Hvordan klarte Peter å holde ut den fryktelige torturen han ble utsatt for? Hva skjedde egentlig i barndommen som har gjort ham så mentalt ustabil? Og, vil nå egentlig reisen til USA være løsningen på problemene?


Min evaluering

Mai er visst blitt måneden for utvidelse av mitt litterære perspektiv! Igjen en annerledes bok, en bok hvor forfatteren tydeligvis er fasinert av de psykologiske resultatene av fangenskap og tortur. Hva gjør at en person knekker eller holder ut det ene skremsels-scenariet etter det andre? Boka viser en god innsikt i den menneskelige psyke og vi får et godt bilde av Peter og de mentale utfordringene som han er blitt og stadig blir utsatt for.

Boka handler lite om selve krigen og er mer fokusert på to parallelle dialoger. Den ene mellom Peter og Dr. Bolgar om hans mentale tilstand. Den andre om politiske teorier og filosofier som var populære blant liberale, europeiske intellektuelle på den tiden. Selv om emnene som tas opp er spennende i seg selv så synes jeg ikke at boka er veldig engasjerende. Den blir noe tam og blir ikke så detaljert som jeg etterhvert ønsket at den skulle være. Det skrapes kun i overflaten på interessante temaer som jeg trodde ville bli enda mer belyst. Ei grei nok bok, ganske atmosfærisk, men kanskje noe utdatert?

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm not sure if I read this before or after Last of the Just but I think they're the only books I've read about the Holocaust. In this book we know the hero has survived and is physically well but the book is about the struggle he goes through on the inside.

[Luna Oren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kitabın kahramanı Peter'dan çok etkilendim.

[Holcombea · Rating 4 out of 5]

Many incisive reflections on ideology. Seems really remarkable for when it was written for its view of fascism. (A bit too Freudian for today.)

[Myth Liberated · Rating 5 out of 5]

متاسفانه به نظرم کتاب خسته کننده ای بود و ریتم جذابی نداشت

[J.C. · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was looking on my shelves for Darkness at Noon, which I was sure I had, but couldn’t find it, when this sequel to it came to my attention. I didn’t know when I read it that it was part of a trilogy, but it certainly stands alone. I wasn’t aware of any necessity to have read earlier contributory books.
It’s very much a twentieth-century exposition of the ideologies that held Europe and Russia in their terrible grasp at the time of The Second World War – embodied in the tale of a young man who has suffered imprisonment and torture (I couldn’t read that section and had to skim past it) for opposing totalitarianism and the horrific new order of the Nazis, with its brutality, repression and exterminations. Parts I and 5, respectively “Arrival” and “Departure”, I found engrossing. Of the three middle sections, “Present” comes first, with the young man’s transitory situation in a neutral country, followed by “Past”, which is the part I skipped, but where the psychological effects on the young man, Peter Slavek, are prised from him by a doctor, Sonia; then “Future”, which is a polemic in the form of a discussion between Peter and Bernard, a follower of the New Order. The psychological impact of the life Peter has had is laid bare and forms the foundation for his ‘departure’. The motif of a ship in both beginning and end sections constitutes a powerful metaphor for the vastness of the ideologies, the imprisonment within them, and the means of escape; the train, with its terrible “Mixed Transport”, is the prison cell of helplessness, from which there is no escape; it is the vehicle of The Last Judgement.
At the time of its publication this must have been a superbly stunning and forceful novel. It’s called a “nightmare allegory”. The stuff of it is nightmare, and actual nightmares pervade it; the discussion with the Nazi extends the nightmare beyond Peter, the victim, to Bernard, the perpetrator:

“The room was growing dim; they had argued for hours and the twilight gave Bernard a tired and weary appearance. It was the type of face, Peter mused, which looked its best in full, crude daylight; in the shadow it became extinct. What might it look like in the darkness? It was a face which had no inner reserves against the night.
Suddenly the recollection of Sonia’s patient came back to him. She had told him of a young man who suffered from nightly attacks of death-fear. It was not cowardice – he had always behaved courageously, even recklessly, in physical danger – but a kind of horror of the void. Normally he was active, tense, balanced; but at night he tore his sheets with his teeth and his body shook in rage and despair at the thought of the ultimate inevitability of his death. Since he had seen Bernard’s face sink and sag in the twilight, Peter had no more doubts as to that patient’s identity.”

I haven’t read any other Koestler but the author’s reputation was such that I knew something of what I was in for. It was too much, though; too hard, too terrible, even when supremely justified by the last section, when that essential, incredible, thin, ray of hope, courage, endurance, acceptance resolution, determination, perseverance, emerges. One brilliant ray.

[Antonio Papadourakis · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 1/2*
Ο 23χρονος Πιτερ Χάβεκ δραπετεύει από την Ναζιστική Γερμανία και καταφεύγει στην Ουδετερία ενώ ήδη έχει ξεκινήσει ο πόλεμος. Μετά από μια υστερική παράλυση ψυχαναλύεται από την Σόνια, που ήταν γνωστή της μητέρας του. Ακολουθεί ιδεολογική συζήτηση με τον Ναζί Μπέρναρντ.
"Όταν ξαναπλάθεις τα περάσμένα, η μνήμη είναι σαν μία αχνή φωτεινή ακτίνα που ανεβοκατεβαίνει το γεωλογικό φρέαρ και φωτίζει πότε τα ψηλότερα και πότε τα χαμηλότερα στρώματα, έτσι που καμιά φορά το αίτιο και το αιτιατό μοιάζουν απομακρυσμένα, το ένα χωμένο στην κορυφή, το άλλο ποιος ξέρει σε ποια τρίσβαθα του απώτερου Χθες."
"Ο πόνος έχει όρια, ο τρόμος όμως είναι απεριόριστος."
"Στις ώρες που είχε περισσότερη διαύγεια συνειδητοποιούσε ότι είχε καταρρεύσει όλη η περήφανη δομή των δικών του αξιών, και όλα τα θαυμάστικά του είχανε τσακίσει και είχανε γίνει ερωτηματικά."
"Η ιστορία δεν είναι ένα έπος αλλά μία αλυσίδα από ανέκδοτα."
"Αν η ανάγκη για δικαιοσύνη και ελευθερία ήτανε βασικά ένστικτα της ανθρώπινης ράτσας, αν οι ηθικές επιταγές ήταν τόσο αληθινές όσο και οι σεξουαλικές παρορμήσεις, τότε οι αριστεροί διανοούμενοι θα ήταν πολύ διαφορετικοί από ότι είναι. Θα είσαστε οι νέοι Προμηθείες που προσπαθούν να κλέψουν τη φωτιά από τους θεούς και όχι ένα σμάρι από νευρωτικούς αλληλοδυναμητιζόμενους καυγατζήδες που πορεύονται από ήττα σε ήττα."
"Όλες ιδέες που διαμόρφωσαν τη μοίρα του κόσμου άρχισαν την κατακτητική τους πορεία ντυμένες στα κουκλόπανα τις φυλετικής μαγείας. Για να αποκτήσει παγκόσμια αποδοχή μία ιδέα πρέπει να επιστρατεύσει τις λανθάνουσες φυλετικές δυνάμεις της ηγετικής της φυλής. Με άλλα λόγια, τα διεθνή κινήματα μπορούν να εξαπλωθούν χρησιμοποιώντας μονάχα το όχημα του εθνικισμού. Μία ��δέα για να κατακτήσει  πρέπει να υπάρχουν κατακτητές."
"Όταν κανείς αποδέχεται μία πίστη δεν πρέπει να γυρεύει το λόγο, δεν πρέπει να ζητάει το γιατί. Το γιατί πρέπει να το αποδέχεται χωρίς καμία συζήτηση. Εκείνον που λέει ότι ξέρει το γιατί, τον περιμένει μία απογοήτευση. Δεν στέκεται γερά στα πόδια του. Ενώ εκείνος που συντάσσεται όσο κι αν γνωρίζει τις αντιρρήσεις και τις ατέλειες θα νιώθει ποιος σίγουρος."

[Dave Morris · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was greatly impressed by the two earlier books in the supposed trilogy, The Gladiators and Darkness at Noon, but I'm forced to agree with George Orwell that it "is not a satisfactory book. The pretence that it is a novel is very thin; in effect it is a tract..."

Koestler (whom Goodreads bizarrely designates as "arthur-koestler") says it was his first novel written in English, but that's not the problem. There are beautiful passages here, but unlike the earlier books (which only comprise a trilogy in theme; the characters and settings are different) it is more concerned with advancing a philosophical argument than telling a story. The thesis is interesting, and reminded me of the Ten Bulls from Zen. But in developing the argument, Koestler loses focus on the story.

The central chunk, where the novel loses its way, involves a psychosomatic illness. Koestler says he saw this in real life, suffered by a fellow prisoner in the Spanish Civil War. It still comes across as unconvincing, probably because of the Freudian therapy that unpicks Peter's problems by digging back to the rubber ducky incidents of his childhood. This sort of thing was all the rage in movies at the time (Spellbound, etc) but comes across as woo-woo. Has Freudian analysis ever cured anyone outside of fiction? So that's the weak link on which the story topples.

[Herrholz Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

Throughout the novel, there is little or no reference to location, time or world events. Rather, it is left to the reader to make associations. For example – in the opening pages, Peter jumps from a ship in which he has been a stowaway and swims to a land where there are palm trees and a Mediterranean climate and which later in the book seems to be referred to as `Neutralia`. Then, another clue. - At one point, Peter was `heading straight home from the shipping company to spend his last but one day in Europe safely between the walls of the flat.` Peter seems to be a communist of uncertain origin and possibly a counter-revolutionary escaping persecution – probably from Russia. Some of the best scenes involve his encounters with Sonia the psychotherapist and the trance or dream like evocations he experiences when confronting his past ordeals.

In the epilogue, we learn that Neutralia was in fact Portugal where the author spent several weeks in 1940 after having escaped from occupied France.

[Glen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Arrival and Departure by Arthur Koestler

In this Penguin edition 190 pages across 4 books, chapters of varying length. A work following a refugee in neutral Portugal during WW2.

The theme of the book regards the mental health of its main character and his sufferance due to an earlier period.

On a personal level I believe the author extremely skilled in guiding the reader through what appears to be a neurasthenia, replaced in the writing with a journey through a total breakdown. The book focuses on a coming to ‘terms with’, and as such, although depressive, is complicatedly uplifting as the central character regains his health.

I will point out that this was part of a trilogy and that I mistakenly managed to read, in this, Part 3 first. However it is quite readable on its own.

[Pádraic · Rating 4 out of 5]

Purgatory on probation. So Koestler's terrible at writing women, a failing which didn't show up in Darkness at Noon because (as I recall) there weren't any women in it. Otherwise, this is excellent, a short but dense tale of the way violence lingers in the mind and the body, of how the world presses you between two options and needles you until you choose.

I think Koestler's choice to abstract some of the specific political names here is pretty unnecessary, as anyone with a half-baked knowledge of 20th century Europe is going to be able to work out who's being referred to, but it's not a damning fault really, and after a run of middling books, it was great to read something so assured, to be guided by someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

[Jayden · Rating 4 out of 5]

I cannot rate this independently of Koestler's other works. If you haven't read any, go read another one first. If this was the only one I read, I'd rate it lower.

This one was a very crudely defined novel built to give Koestler an outlet for his beliefs about the political world he finds himself in. It's an exploration into the psychology of what makes somebody a "hero." You see Peter's very honest reaction to being tortured, and then celebrated after as a hero who suffered through it. You see his shame, as well as his desire for atonement.

If you're able to pick through the weak bits of exposition, and the contrived framing, then you have a very honest exploration of what it means to suffer for a cause. It probably could have been a nonfiction book.