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The Writing on the Wall: The Transylvania Trilogy #3

by Miklós Bánffy

Publicată în maghiară între 1934 și 1940, Trilogia transilvană a lui Miklós Bánffy este considerată astăzi una dintre operele de referință ale secolului XX. Romanul a apărut, în ultimele două decenii, în engleză, franceză, spaniolă, germană, italiană și olandeză, bucurându-se de o receptare entuziastă. Ediția românească, în traducerea lui Marius Tabacu, include un cuvânt înainte de Marta Petreu și un studiu introductiv și un glosar realizate de Lucian Nastasă‑Kovács.

Miklós Bánffy, conte de Losoncz (30 decembrie 1873, Cluj – 5 iunie 1950, Budapesta), scriitor, om politic și grafician maghiar, a fost descendentul unei vechi familii de aristocrați din Ardeal. După studii de drept la universităţile de la Cluj şi Budapesta și un doctorat în drept și ştiinţe administrative, este ales, în 1901, deputat în Parlamentul maghiar. Între 1912 și 1918 a condus Teatrul Naţional şi Opera de Stat de la Budapesta, acordîndu-i, în această calitate, o susținere importantă compozitorului Béla Bartók. Între aprilie 1921 și decembrie 1922 a fost ministru de Externe al Ungariei. În 1926 s-a stabilit la Cluj, primind cetățenia română. Își continuă activitatea pe tărâm cultural ca redactor-șef al revistei Erdélyi Helikon. În 1943 poartă discuții secrete, la București, cu Iuliu Maniu, în vederea unei ieșiri concomitente din război a Ungariei și României, iar în 1944 pledează pentru ruperea de către Ungaria a alianței cu Germania. În septembrie 1944 îl convinge pe Miklós Horthy să accepte evacuarea fără luptă a forțelor armate din Cluj, salvând astfel orașul de la distrugere. Castelul de la Bonţida al familiei Bánffy, cel mai mare complex de edificii în stil baroc din Transilvania, descris drept Versailles-ul ardelean, este jefuit și incendiat de trupele germane în retragere. Expropriat în 1945 și exclus din viața literară în 1946, a părăsit, în 1949, Clujul și s-a alăturat familiei stabilite deja la Budapesta, unde se va stinge în anul următor. Conform propriei dorinţe, rămășițele sale pămîntești au fost aduse în 1976 în cimitirul central Házsongárd din Cluj. Alături de Trilogia transilvană, publicată între 1934 și 1940, opera sa mai cuprinde piese de teatru, între care Legenda soarelui (1906) și Marele senior (1913), nuvele, precum și lucrări de grafică.

„Bánffy este un povestitor înnăscut.“ - Patrick Leigh Fermor

„La nivelul celor mai bune lucrări de ficțiune pe care le-am citit, precum Anna Karenina și Război și pace contopite într-o singură operă. Dragoste, sex, oraș, provincie, bani, putere, frumusețe și patosul unei societăți care nu-și poate preveni propria distrugere“ - Charles Moore, Daily Telegraph

„(…) Narațiunea este o înșiruire fastuoasă de baluri, serbări de binefacere, dueluri, mari vânători cu câini și hăitași, mese grandioase, sărbătoriri, curse de cai, dineuri cu zi fixă, dansuri și jocuri de noroc la cazinou și așa mai departe, prin care bogatul și cultivatul conte de la Bonțida descrie nobilimea maghiară, și, mai larg, aristocrația cos­mopolit‑imperială, ocupată cu îndatoririle ei de castă care‑i etalează rangul, bogăția, puterea. (…) Dar, în fond, romanul descrie momentul, surprins în numeroase opere ale literaturii universale, când o clasă socială trece de la etapa etică, a muncii și datoriei, la faza ei estetică, frivolă, voluptoasă, vino­vată și totodată încărcată de artisticitate; și, complementar, apariția unei noi ordini, moderne, nu lipsită de vulgaritate (…). În general, e uimitor ce tare seamănă lumea politică descrisă de Bánffy cu aceea descrisă de Caragiale. (…) Citind Trilogia… lui Miklós Bánffy, în superba traducere pe care i‑a făcut‑o Marius Tabacu, m‑am întîlnit nu numai cu Transilvania din trecut, ci și cu una atemporală, pe care o cunosc prea bine și care mă face întotdeauna să surâ una în care se mănâncă slănină și se bea palincă, de pildă… Pământul din Jucul meu, pe vremea Imperiului Austro‑Ungar loc celebru de vânătoare cu hăitași și de concursuri hipice, văd că l‑a străbătut, cu calul, și vecinul meu de la Bonțida/Dienești, contele Miklós Bánffy; iar peisajul transilvan de podiș și câm­pie, ce stârnește, cu dealurile lui aspre și golașe, un urât indicibil, a fost pentru Miklós Bánffy „straniu”, însă de o „splendoare grandioasă”. Sunt sigură că Bánffy a iubit Transilvania la fel de mult cum iubesc eu ograda casei părintești.“ – Marta Petreu

„Deși unii exegeți ai cărții lui Banffy au văzut în această creație un „portret tolstoian ale ultimelor zile ale Imperiului Austro‑Ungar”, cu intrigile și decadența de la curtea regelui din Budapesta, cu înfruntări doar aparent sterile în Parlament începînd cu luna septembrie 1904 – marcîndu‑se astfel ultimele luni ale guvernării lui István Tisza –, cu o aristocrație în declin, preocupată mai mult de lumea saloanelor și de jocul de cărți, incapabilă să înțeleagă relațiile cu concetățenii de alte etnii, dar cu complicate afaceri amoroase, o lume în care onoarea se tranșa prin dueluri, în care aroganța noilor îmbogățiți părea să sfideze i...

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Hungary, Hungarian Literature, Classics, 20th Century, Literature

313 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1940

About the author

Count Miklós Bánffy de Losoncz was a Hungarian nobleman, politician, and novelist. His books include The Transylvanian Trilogy (They Were Counted, They Were Found Wanting, They Were Divided), and The Phoenix Land.

The Bánffy family emerged in 15th century Transylvania and established itself among the foremost dynasties of the country. They owned a grand palace in Kolozsvár (Romanian: Cluj-Napoca, German: Klausenburg), one of the main cities of Transylvania and one of the province's largest castles at Bonchida. One branch was raised to a barony in the 1660s, while another became counts in 1855. The barons produced a 19th-century prime minister of Hungary (Dezső Bánffy), and the counts held important offices at court. Among the latter was Count Miklós, born in Kolozsvár on December 30, 1873.

Beginning his political career at the time when Hungary was a constituent of Austria-Hungary, Bánffy was elected a Member of Parliament in 1901 and became Director of the Hungarian State Theatres (1913–1918). Both a traditionalist and a member of the avant-garde, he wrote five plays, two books of short stories, and a distinguished novel. Overcoming fierce opposition, his intervention made it possible for Béla Bartók's works to have their first performance in Budapest.

Bánffy became Foreign Minister of Hungary in his cousin Count István Bethlen's government of 1921. Although he detested the politics of the Regent, Admiral Miklós Horthy, he worked to review the boundary revisions confirmed by the Treaty of Trianon after World War I through which Transylvania had been transferred to Romania. Little progress was made, and he retired from office.

His trilogy, A Transylvanian Tale, also called The Writing on the Wall, was published between 1934 and 1940. Bánffy portrayed pre-war Hungary as a nation in decline, failed by a shortsighted aristocracy.

In April 1943, Bánffy visited Bucharest to persuade Ion Antonescu's Romania together with Hungary to abandon the Axis and sue for a separate peace with the Allies (see also Romania during World War II). The negotiations with a delegation led by Gheorghe Mironescu broke down almost instantaneously, as the two sides could not agree on a future status for Northern Transylvania (which Romania had ceded to Hungary in 1940, and where Bonchida was located). Two years later, in revenge for Bánffy's actions in Bucharest, his estate at Bonchida was burned and looted by the retreating German army.

Hungary and Transylvania were soon invaded by the Soviet Union's Red Army, an event which marked an uncertain status for Northern Transylvania until its return to Romania. His wife and daughter fled to Budapest while Bánffy remained on the spot in a vain attempt to prevent the destruction of his property. Soon after, the frontier was closed. The family remained separated until 1949, when he was allowed by Romanian communist authorities to leave for Budapest, where he died the following year.

A mellowing communist regime in Hungary permitted the reissue of A Transylvanian Tale in 1982, and it was translated into English for the first time in 1999. The Castle of Bonchida is now being restored as a cultural center. An apartment is being prepared for the use of the Count's family.

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

“And this is the writing that was written, Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.” Daniel 5:25 History’s repeating…
Only one step is needed to change crucially the hero’s fate…

Several times Balint had thought that the moment had come to speak the words for which she was waiting. He had only to take her hand and murmur a few short sentences and with that simple action he would have wiped out the past and started a new era in his life.

The step was never taken… Instead he managed to be reunited with the love of his life… But his mistress was too neurotic and indecisive… And he was too meek and idealistic to take his fate in his own hands…

For a brief moment Balint half closed his eyes so as to concentrate better, and as he did so the sunlight through his eyelids seemed rose-red and all his worries disappeared as he saw in his mind’s eye the image of Adrienne as she had been in the firelight, with her parted lips and wide open eyes, with her expression of almost painful anticipation of that moment when all space and time were wiped away, when there was no past and no future and when time itself became an eternity. Her beautiful face, framed in those wildly tumbling curls, could have been that of Medusa or the Tragic Muse herself, and for a moment Balint saw only this and felt only the surge of renewed desire…

And aristocrats spent their time visiting balls and parties… Basking in the sun… Enjoying leisure… Fruitlessly discoursing politics… Hunting, gambling, drinking, fornicating, procreating…
And all the decisions of politicians were no more effective than the decisions of children playing in the sandbox…

Though gossip was rampant, no one knew anything for certain; except, of course, that the atmosphere behind the scenes was becoming stormier and stormier while all the old obstruction went on as merrily as ever. Public interest in what was happening in Parliament was steadily being stifled, for all that anyone could find out from reading the newspapers was that the country’s elected legislators either met in closed session or else were insisting upon voting only about trivialities. This was all too boring to be of any general interest.

And every nation wished for a bigger slice of the cake so the world was inexorably being pushed to the precipice of war.

[Enrique · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Largas crestas de montañas inmensas con laderas abruptas. Féretros gigantescos, féretros de muchas naciones".

Finalizo esta aventura tan gratificante que ha sido esta Trilogía Transilvana de M. Banffy a lo largo de estos últimos meses; reconozco que dado el volumen (1.600 páginas) dudé bastante al comenzarlo, guardándome la bala en la recámara de cortar su lectura en cualquiera de los tres volúmenes. Evidentemente, este proyecto que iba para uno o varios años sin prisa, no ha durado más de 5 meses; me di cuenta además, de que se perdía el hilo con el excesivo paso del tiempo, y eso unido la calidad que vi de inicio, me hizo acelerarlo.
 
No me enrollo ni me extiendo en mis comentarios que se repetirían con lo ya contado en los dos volúmenes anteriores: novela de alto nivel, historias bien contadas, con paciencia, desarrollando las ideas y los personajes de forma tranquila, diría incluso que tiene algo de esos magníficos narradores que dio el siglo XIX que se regodeaban en la literatura por la literatura.
 
Además, se trata de una radiografía interna como nunca había visto de las causas y circunstancias que llevaron a la Primera Guerra Mundial: de forma nada simplificadora y abarcando la complejidad de movimientos previos y tramas en este continente europeo siempre tan belicoso, fratricida e intrigante. Además, contado no al estilo de un historiador que avasalla al lector a base de datos y fechas, sino dentro del entramado novelado de un político aristócrata (antes lo eran todos) y alter ego del autor, con sus inquietudes vitales, de pareja, económico, etc; muy entretenido, gran calidad.

Le pongo la máxima puntuación por varios motivos:

1) El final es extraordinario. Todo queda perfectamente cerrado y cada personaje finaliza su historia de forma natural (no digo con final bueno o malo, sino de forma natural). Me ha encantado ese final de narrador maestro.

2) Por momentos dudé que el autor buscara atajos, hubiera muertes convenientes en cada momento....etc. Error. Ese final del que hablo pone las cosas en su sitio y pone en valor a este escritor semi desconocido.

3) La recomendación me vino directamente del amigo Chirbes en sus Diarios, y si él dice que está Trilogía es buena, es que es buena, y no soy yo quien para rebatirlo. Solamente lo confirmo, vale la pena.

4) Nunca me había enfrentado a una catástrofe tal como la I GM de una forma tan amplia y haciendo un balance histórico tan bueno. Había leído muy buenas novelas bélicas, que no mencionaré, pero que hablan solo de la guerra, y no de todo aquello que la provoca.

"El país se disponía a morir, y con él la generación que tanta importancia daba a esos eslóganes. Una generación que había sido capaz de olvidar la realidad de la vida del país y se había dedicado, como un niño a perseguir espejismos. En suma, una generación que había ignorado todo cuanto sustentaba la nación: la fuerza, la autocrítica y la unión."

[Kalliope · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is review of the Transylvania Trilogy, also known as The Writing of the Wall, and I am posting this in each volume. The trilogy is composed of:

They Were Counted
They Were Found Wanting
They Were Divided.

These titles are taken from the Book of Daniel, from the Belshazzar’s Feast, when a hand appeared and wrote on the wall:

God has numbered the days of your kingdom and brought it to an end; you have been weighed on the scales and found wanting; your kingdom is divided and given to your enemies.

This is how Rembrandt saw this episode:




What Banffy sees in this Writing is the Advent of WWI and the end of Hungary’s Dreams.

I would like to read a good biography of Miklos Banffy. He must have been a fascinating person. From what I could learn from the web, he was originally from Transylvania and part of the nobility (a Count). He was an independent Member of the Hungarian Parliament before WWI, becoming Minister of Foreign Affairs during the first period of the Horthy Regency, when István Behtlen was Prime Minister (a relative, and also a Count). It was Banffy who signed the Peace Treaty with the US after The Great War. During his time in the Ministry his main interest was to try and renegotiate the Trianon Treaty and recover for Hungary many of the land tracts lost to its neighbors.

If a great part of his mind and ideals were in politics, his heart lived with the arts. He was a man of the theater, of music and of opera. He was Superintendent of the Budapest Opera around 1906. Puccini’s Madama Butterfly (1898), still a very modern work, features in these novels. He was a friend of Kodaly and Bartok, sponsoring the production of Bartok’s then avant-gardish opera Blubeard’s Castle (1911).

These books--which should be read all three (total of about 1400 pages)--, were written between 1934 and 1940, although the setting is the years before the First War, namely from 1905 to the Fall of 1914. The general impression upon reading is somewhat disconcerting, it feels like a nineteenth century novel, but some more modern elements sometimes creep in, contributing to the general nostalgia for a foregone age.

For me there were two threads of interest in the book. There is a plot embedded in the portrait of a society in the “realist” model tradition, but there is also a highly crafted account of the political inter relations of Hungary, Austria, Transylvania and Romania during those times.

The first thread, or the plot, develops as a family saga with elements of a Bildungsroman, with plenty of entertaining scenes of balls, dinners, shooting-parties, horses and hunts, romances, adulteries, gambling, drinking, dueling, etc. And although it is a society of rentiers, for whom money is present but should rarely be seen, there are also plenty of money issues with debts from gambling, squandering, traumatic inheritances, and situations in which exotic and magnificent pearls are being pawned to save someone’s honor. All this makes for a rich story.

The second thread is the political account. These sections almost read as a chronicle of what was going on in the Budapest parliament from 1905 until 1914. The issues at stake were: a separate Army from Austria’s; the drawing of a new Constitution based on a wider system of universal suffrage with repercussions on the representation of the minorities and consequently on the Parliamentary balance; the conspiracies of the Heir of the Crown, the much hated Archiduke Franz-Ferdinand (István Szabo’s films Colonel Redl and Sunshine come to mind); the possibility of a separate banking System from the Austrian; and the always difficult relationship with the Romanians and the Croatians, etc..

I found this second thread absolutely fascinating and unique. It has a similar value to a document, given that Banffy had been there.

It may have been this part that invited significant criticism amongst the contemporary Hungarians. For although Banffy adored his country (but was it Transylvania or Hungary?), he is bitterly critical of the Politics of Obstruction that set the pace or dynamics within that spectacular Parliament during those crucial years. Inevitably, Edward Crankshaw’ acerbic criticism of the Hungarians in his The Fall of the House of Habsburg comes to mind. Banffy sadly sees his country men as hopelessly parochial, concerned only about their petty internal issues, and dangerously unaware of what was going on outside their borders (soon to be lost).

They were not seeing the Writing on the Wall.

I am surprised this work is not better known. And although in translation, it has been a pleasure to read. The English edition is the fruit of the collaboration between Banffy’s daughter Katalin Banffy-Jelen and Patrick Thursfield.

------

The other two volumes:

They Were Counted

They Were Found Wanting

[[P] · Rating 4 out of 5]

For my previous two reviews in this series I have churned out over 2500 words and so as I come to write the third and final review I find myself at something of a loss. What can I say about Miklos Banffy’s Transylvanian Trilogy that I haven’t already said? Not a lot, it seems. It doesn’t help that They Were Divided is much shorter than the two preceding volumes. Indeed, while all three follow on, volumes one and two did feel, in some way, like separate entities. They dealt with markedly different stages in the lives of the main characters; and each unfolded at a different pace. This one, however, does not feel distinct; in fact, it feels odd that it stands alone.

As befitting the concluding volume of a series, the one thing that does stand out about They Were Divided is the increased atmosphere of decline and destruction that hangs over it. As noted previously, the real title of the whole work is The Writing On The Wall and that makes most sense in relation to the book under review here. First of all, there is destruction on what I will call a local level i.e. amongst the inhabitants of the novel, within their families etc. There have been deaths in the preceding two volumes but there are more of them in They Were Divided and, unlike before, it is major characters that are struck down. There is, in the book, a very real sense of things coming to an end, of the end of an era, so to speak, and this means that it is the most moving of the three volumes.

In addition to the deaths of certain beloved characters there is also the prospect of large-scale death on an international level. The timespan of the trilogy is 1904 to 1914. I don’t think you have to be a historian to know what the significance of the date 1914 is. The reality of what is happening in the world outside of the communities we have been so focused on becomes more apparent in They Were Divided; it can no longer be ignored. Indeed, it was always the case that the narrative was moving towards destruction, towards, more specifically, war. Yet it is easy for the reader to lose sight of that, to put it to the back of your mind; it is easy to become so engrossed in what is happening between, and to, these charming, interesting characters and to therefore not recognise the full significance of what is taking place in the world-at-large. It’s a neat trick, because that is exactly the same mindset that the majority of the characters have; they are so taken up with their own dramas, their own fun and games, that they are unaware of just how quickly they are hurtling towards, well, extinction or certainly the end of life as they know it.

Now that I have read the entire thing my opinion of some of what came before this final instalment has altered somewhat. I loved the first volume, almost without reservation, but I was far less enamoured with the second. A few of those reservations, however, seem less serious upon reflection. The drop off in drama, the slowing of the pace in They Were Found Wanting now seems necessary, for an entire 1500 pages of the kind of intensity that They Were Counted provided would perhaps have been too much. Furthermore, Balint, who I previously called a non-entity, takes on something of a heroic edge by the end of They Were Divided. His simple-minded goodness, his strong values and sense of honour were always admirable, but not particularly interesting. However, he is one of the few, if not the only, character who is not so self-absorbed as to not see what is coming; and there is something, for me, incredibly moving about the idea of one man, surrounded by jovial but ignorant people, who has his eyes open and turned towards a world that is set to burn.

"There was nothing to see but ice and snow, only ice and snow, a petrified world were there could be no life. Ice everywhere, like the frozen inferno of Dante’s seventh hell. Even the sky seemed carved from ice, clean, majestic…and implacable…and even the stars held no mercy.

In front rose the ink-black outline of the Matterhorn, seeming more than ever like a claw, Satan’s claw, reaching for the Heavens. The great peak was no longer a natural pyramid of rock but rather some fatal, razor-sharp milestone threatening death to the sky above – a milestone that pointed to the end of the world."

So, ultimately, despite its flaws [I still can’t accept the repetition], The Transylvanian Trilogy is a large-hearted, beautiful novel, which may not, contrary to the hype, stand shoulder-to-shoulder with War & Peace, but is well worth the considerable time that is required in order to read it.

---

The Transylvanian Trilogy
Part 1: They Were Counted https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Part2: They Were Found Wanting: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

Overall rating:****

[Cora · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the midst of my obsession with Jane Smiley, I listened to an interview with her where she recommended the Transylvanian Trilogy. I had no other connection to the author or the setting. In fact, I generally have trouble with Great Novels, as they tend to start feeling like eating your vegetables. But The Transylvanian Trilogy was a true delight, a Great Novel that really worked for me as a riveting story.

Miklos Banffy was a count and politician in Hungary for many years, and he writes about pre-war Hungary with deep familiarity and a powerfully specific memory. The trilogy, which covers the years from 1904 until the outbreak of World War I, conveys a powerful feeling of a world lost to time. However, Banffy is as interested in condemning the elite of his generation as he is in recreating the world of his childhood; and at the same time his warm-hearted characterizations make it hard to truly dismiss most of the people that he also wants to condemn. (A comparison with Jean Renoir, and specifically the film The Rules of the Game, seems appropriate at this point.) The world of the trilogy is in many ways strange to modern eyes, but even at its most absurd (and Banffy is hilarious on the subject of dueling), the world feels lived in.

What really made the trilogy work so well for me was Banffy's tonal mastery, mixing gothic suspense, psychological drama, political polemic, comedy of manners, and a powerful affection for the land into a rich emotional experience. (Okay, I could have lost a bit of the political polemic, but only just a bit.) The personal struggles of Balint Abady, in love with a married woman, and Laszlo Gyoffery, the self-destructive composer, were as real and immediate to me as any contemporary novel.

At the same time, as the trilogy concludes it takes on this larger melancholy. Banffy conjures into being a whole world of honor and self-destruction, gentility and hypocrisy, unrequited love and remarkable myopia, with a large cast of characters that you remember and feel for. And then it turns out (as you always knew a little bit, but were trying to ignore) that they're all marching blind to their doom.

The Transylvanian Trilogy is remarkable. I finished reading it more than two weeks ago, and the experience of reading it is still with me now. I would recommend it in a heartbeat.

[Ian · Rating 4 out of 5]

"They Were Divided" is the final instalment of Miklós Bánffy's immense and stylish Transylvanian Trilogy, set in the years before WWI. As with the earlier books in the series, the novel is simultaneously a love story, a family saga and an elegy to the lost world of Hungarian ruled Transylvania, a world that was obviously very dear to the author's heart.

It is difficult to describe the plot in detail without including spoilers, but in this final part the hero, Balint Abady, continues his difficult love affair with a married woman, as well as attempting, with variable success, to improve the lives of the local Romanian peasantry. Throughout the trilogy the latter are ruthlessly exploited by some particularly grasping members of the local middle classes. The issue of the relationship between the Hungarian and Romanian populations of Transylvania, very muted in the first part of the Trilogy, becomes more prominent in the second and especially the final part. Meanwhile, Bánffy continues his theme of castigating Hungary's pre-WWI politicians for their self-serving and inward looking behaviour, despite the mounting international crises in the lead-up to the Great War. Some of the detailed descriptions of in-fighting within the Hungarian Parliament are a bit of a struggle to get through, but on the whole this is as entertaining a novel as its predecessors. The story ends with the outbreak of WWI, and a wave of patriotism and enthusiasm sweeping the country at the news. Of course the reader knows that the end result will be the death of millions and the dismemberment of Hungary. Our hero Balint is one of the few who greets the war with foreboding rather than enthusiasm, and his final farewells before leaving for the Front are a suitably moving end to the Trilogy.

[Bill Kupersmith · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Transylvanian Trilogy is actually one long work; neither of the succeeding volumes to They Were Counted, They Were Found Wanting nor this one, They Were Divided, can stand alone. One problem with historical fiction as a genre is the predictable ending. Throughout the series the political scene is permeated by constant anxiety about the Heir to the throne, the Archduke Franz-Ferdinand, whose intentions to placate his future Slavic and other minority subjects may bode ill for the Hungarians. Any reader with even the most cursory knowledge of history already knows their fears are groundless. By being assassinated and precipitating the sequence of events quickly leading to the outbreak of the First World War, Franz-Ferdinand’s legacy will be much worse than anything the Heir ever intended whilst alive. The book ends with crowds of men marching to join the colours, shouting “Hurrah for the war!”—a war they think will be over by Christmas. We know that after four terrible years Hungary will end up on the wrong side, losing much of her pre-war territory to the Slavs and Romanians, including Bánffy’s beloved Transylvania.

We have also followed another more personal story, the love affair between Count Balint Abady and Adrienne, wife of the sadistic Count Pal Uzdy. At the end of the first volume Balint and Adrienne enjoyed a passionate idyll in Venice, though fearful of fatal consequences. In the sequel, it appeared that she might gain a divorce to marry Balint, till her husband is diagnosed as insane. Then Adrienne cannot divorce him just when she most needs to. I’m not sure whether the reasoning behind the law against divorcing an insane spouse was that you married for better or worse and got worse, or that he lacked the mental capacity to contest the terms of the divorce, but it appears that Hungarian matrimonial law might have be devised by Joseph Heller (such a good central European name). In reviewing a classic one should not worry about spoilers—such books are intended for rereading—but I doubt many readers are expecting an HEA for Balint and Adrienne. We also discover the fate of Balint’s unfortunate cousin Laszlo, who ruined his fortunes with gambling and drink in the first book. In a strange and most unexpected way, he doesn’t die without finding true love.

Summing up, I’d say that The Transylvanian Trilogy meets my criteria for an authentic classic. It is an unforgettable portrait of an aristocratic culture on the eve of the Great War. In Balint Abady we have a representation of the epitome of noblesse oblige, a handsome cultivated nobleman devoted to the welfare of his people and nation, generous and liberal, and at the same time passionate and loving. Yet unable to gain either the love he desires and deserves or to turn the corrupt and venal political class of his region and country from a course that will lead to national disaster. And as a contemporary American, I sometimes wondered whether there are any lessons from pre-war Hungary—as depicted in these three books—for us. With our obsession with race and ethnicity, indeed we are Counted. Whether we also shall be Found Wanting and Divided remains to discover.

[Steve]

With less subtlety and less nuance than the preceding two volumes, They Were Divided is nevertheless wonderful writing. Then again, there was nothing subtle or nuanced about the First World War, the last station in this plot. We are asked at times to recommend a book or set of books if we were ever to be marooned on a deserted island, to which my answer now is this trilogy. For me, the mixture of time, place, and persons combine to drive a splendid enchantment.

The laser is here pointed at Balint Abady, although it shifts to the political climate, as if it were another main character. Adrienne’s husband Pal, now insane, has been committed to an asylum, and her daughter Clemmie has been sent to a boarding school in Lausanne, Switzerland, the same school Adrienne had attended. The fates of Countess Roza Abady, Balint’s mother who lives on the family estate, Denestornya; Count Laszlo Gyeroffy, Balint’s cousin; and the relationship between Adrienne and Balint are all decided before the final page. With pronounced metaphors between personal and social developments, the author leaves no doubt as to his criticism for the war. Great things could have been; however, history took a different course. Mr. Banffy created a solid, worthy summary of the currents leading to war, especially within the Balkans, and from a Hungarian perspective, one little appreciated in America today. How could so many thoughtlessly desire ruin in 1914? Well, that question remains outstanding more than a century later – human nature, perhaps.

[Chuck LoPresti · Rating 4 out of 5]

The third and final installment of the Transylvanian Trilogy of Banffy ties all loose ends together without fanfare, closure or positive resolution. This is a story about foolish politicians doing irreparable damage to their homeland in the name of vanity and little more. Banffy was right in forecasting the horrible results of the first and second world wars on Hungary. The primary function of this final book is to clarify the characters and their roles in bringing about the decline of Hungary. The writing suffers a bit as it's clear that documentation more than prose is the focus of Banffy in concluding his epic story. When he does stop teaching history enough to return to his more ornate style these transitions become jarring and unnatural. There's one particularly frustrating sequence when describing a meeting between Balint and Adrienne that draws them in parallel with Adam and Eve that is ruined by Banffy then telling us directly that these folks were like Adam and Eve...and yet again less than a few paragraphs on he again tramples on this comparison which would have had much more grace if Banffy wasn't standing on your chest shouting at you. These are small flaws and overall the story telling is still strong and the writing is generally easy to follow apart from some lengthy political passages that are essential to an understanding of pre-WW1 Hungary and Transylvania. Banffy is almost Stendhal-lite in terms of social interaction and historic detail. He writes of nature like the more interesting parts of Stifter and his courtly scenes of gambling, dueling and drinking will remind some of Proust and Turgenev.

I no longer think of Transylvania as the land of scary blood thirst that I only knew from Dracula movies - but rather a beautiful mountainous region characterized by a juxtaposition of traditional values and the growing pains of modernization - not unlike many other places in the world at all - and certainly nothing that justifies the constant transmogrification of Hollywood projection.

I really enjoyed this trilogy and despite the fact that he's not an amazing writer - he's a good writer, a great story teller and it's a piece of history that I now understand in fairly dense detail. There are not too many Hungarian books in translation I have not enjoyed and this is no exception. I can't imagine any well-read Hungarian isn't familiar with this important document of Eastern European history.

[Petra · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fitting and wonderful ending to a wonderful trilogy. I enjoyed every volume of this work. The story comes across as real, and warm, and touching and is truly a love story to a beloved Country.

This segment of the trilogy was sad in its inevitable conclusion of war and destruction.

I recommend this trilogy. It's a delight to read about the continued story of Balint Abady and Lazlo Gyeroffy, cousins and friends. I'm going to miss these characters and hope the war treats them as kindly as it can.

[Darren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fitting conclusion to trilogy, completing one of the masterpieces of twentieth century literature. Works on every level, and everything seamlessly blended together, as a time/place way of life is raised before the reader's eyes, populated by a huge cast of sympathetic/realistic/recognisable characters, with the over-arching political upheavals of the approach of world war providing painful poignancy to the individual strivings, without taking away from their human/emotional impact. 4.5 stars for this third book itself (rounding down to 4 for couple of minor quibbles which aren't worth mentioning), but 5 STARS FOR THE WRITING ON THE WALL/TRANSYLVANIA TRILOGY.

[Sue · Rating 5 out of 5]

I wish I could write like this writer. I never thought that one could enjoy description of such simple things like forest, river, trees and meadows. Even without sunrises and sun sets, if you know what I mean. It was truly a pleasure to read.
The book ends with the murder in Sarajevo and we will never know how the main character would go through the hell of the WWI. We are left with hope as we know that the book is based on personal memories.....

[Darryl · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such a beautifully written series, highly recommend all 3 books.

[Carlos B. · Rating 3 out of 5]

Se puede decir que el libro está formado por dos partes diferenciadas: los acontecimientos políticos de Hungría y la vida de dos primos pertenecientes a la aristocracia húngara.

Escrito de una manera que recuerda a Zweig (sin llegar a la calidad de éste), nos introducimos en la sociedad transilvana de principios del siglo XX. Las largas fiestas de la incansable aristocracia húngara, las penurias de los trabajadores rumanos que también sufren abusos de “sus propias gentes”, los debates políticos que discurrieron, la marcha como sonámbulos de una sociedad hacia su propia autodestrucción.

A mí parecer hay tres fallos en la novela: largas e “inútiles” descripciones, no hay un buen manejo del tiempo en la obra (una noche dura 100 páginas y 4 meses unas líneas), la trama de los dos primos es bastante floja, especialmente en lo relacionado a sus vidas amorosas. Se echa en falta la mano de un buen editor. A pesar de ello, en ningún momento me aburrí con ella aunque si afecto a mi manera de identificarme con los protagonistas.

Bánffy es muy crítico con la clase política de la que él mismo formó parte. A veces de manera sutil, otras más directas, y a través de su alter ego Bálint, el autor crítica la ceguera de los principales líderes y partidos húngaros, más centrados en sus shows mediáticos que en solucionar problemas teniendo consecuencias fatales para el devenir de la Monarquía. También es duro con los dirigentes austriacos, a los que califica de vivir en un mundo de fantasía, y a los rumanos, que buscaban cualquier posición que les hiciera ganar importancia en un posible conflicto incluso a costa de sus compatriotas. Aunque sean precisos ciertos conocimientos básicos sobre el Imperio austrohúngaro para seguir a Bánffy, esta parte está escrita notablemente, cobrando mayor protagonismo según nos acercamos a 1914.

En resumen, es un libro ameno, interesante, perfecto para quienes buscan ver cómo era la sociedad transilvana en el imperio a principios del siglo XX. Si buscas una novela cuya trama te deje clavado a la silla, éste no lo es.

[Christopher · Rating 4 out of 5]

My favorite passage from the book:

Abady descended the path at his own pace. The city's myriad lights glowed down in the valley and for a moment Abady found himself almost blinded by the arc-lights of the station at the foot of the hill. For a moment or two he paused to gaze at the beauty of the great spread of tiny lights in the dark night; and, as he stopped, he was thinking what a strange man Tamas Laczok was. he knew so much, he was filled with esoteric knowledge, he had gazed at wide horizons and not been dazzled, and he was also a man of culture and refinement. But he had used none of it: he had just let it go to waste, burying himself here in a ramshackle cottage with a little gypsy whore, and yet he showed all the signs of being a happy man.

Balint thought of poor Gazsi Kadacsay, who had killed himself in despair because he could not acquire what Count Tamas had carelessly tossed away. He wondered if Gazsi's fate would have been different if he had managed to learn all that Tamas had learned; and would Laczok be so carefree and merry if, with all his knowledge, he had not abandoned his origins and turned his back on power and worldly success? Was it some inborn wisdom that had given him the strength to throw all that away, or would he have been just as happy if fate had not made him leave his own country and go away to learn about the world elsewhere? Would he have been as jovial and contented if he had merely stayed at home, living in idleness and easy ignorance?

Was a man formed by his experience or by his natural talents? Can a man only give up calmly what he is already sure of possessing, and never what he has vainly longed to acquire? (Part II, Chapter 5)

[Debra · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is the first in the Trilogy Banffy wrote about his native Transylvania, the 'land across the forest' so different from the Dracula legends. It is a profound and wonderful work that follows the character of Balint as he reckons with the changes in city (Budapest) and countryside in Hungary and Transylvania at the turn of the last century. It has much in common with Proust's Remembrances, with Musil's Man Without Qualities and with Tolstoy's writings about the peasants of Russia. The third and final book ties together the various destinies of each character and the notion of country as it is pulled apart with the advent of the first world war. Banffy himself was involved in Transylvanian politics and in a long, thwarted love-relationship which give depth and realism to the turn of events. I was so sad when the book ended, and even more sad for the fate of the countryside since. In traveling to Romania in 2005 you could see the poverty as you crossed the border between Hungary. Farms with gardens were flourishing on the Hungarian side, hovels with broken machinery and rusty metal with phlegmatic spots of green resided on the Romanian side along the way to Transylvania. The climate was no different, but the corruption in the government and the treatment of the people of the country was so different. I still have not made my way up to the Carpathians, but I dream of a walking tour there, wandering in the forests I have come to love through Banffy's eloquence.

[Historygirl · Rating 3 out of 5]

They Were Divided provides a fascinating eyewitness account of the last years leading up to WW1 from the point of view of Hungary, specifically Transylvania. There is also a fictional story about the travails of a set of aristocratic families over several generations and a love story. Some of the fictional pieces are slice of life gems that reflect both character and social mores. Others, including the love story of the main character, are less compelling. However, both as history and literature this is a unique and valuable work. Very readable and thought provoking.
It is the third volume of the Transylvanian trilogy and I intend to go back to read the first two.

[Raluca · Rating 3 out of 5]

A melancholy finish to a melancholy, "end of an empire" trilogy. Still sexist, still nationalistic. While war's raging throughout the Balkans, a little local lord holds a mock trial against a jug of brandy for causing him drunkenness and embarassment, complete with shooting the jug at point blank range and a village feast washed away in, wouldn't you know it, many other jugs of brandy. One of our heroes dies in disgrace, while the other can't understand why his lover wants to dedicate herself to her ill child rather than marry him and make other, assumedly better children. I've said it before, and I have to say it again to close: pretty good books, for all their faults.

[Lysergius · Rating 4 out of 5]

The last volume in the 3 volume Transylvanian Trilogy. I am sad to see it go.

It brings the series to such a sad conclusion, at the start of the first World war. The protagonist Balint's bitter intuition that the world he knows will never be the same, is profound, and we know in the hindsight of the passage of time, that this is true. Banffy manages to convey in a few sentences the destruction of an era. I found it almost painfully poignant, this twilight of empires, loss of a generation of youth and a world that has never been the same.

[Liviu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great ending to the trilogy; the shortest book and more devoted to political events, it also has many emotional moments.
I thought the ending was very appropriate and open to imagination at least concerning the fate of Balint and Adrienne - after all volume 2 ends the same in a way and then volume 3 brings the together again...

[Barbara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Just finished this final book of the trilogy. Really loved it. Its story of the people and politics of Transylvania on the eve of the Great War was well written and very interesting. Apparently, it was quite autobiographical too.

[Jennifer · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this trilogy so much! So evocative. Throughout the series I wanted to transport myself to the time and space. Really beautiful. I will definitely read these books again.

[Marina Sofia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this trilogy. It's not quite War and Peace, but it is very moving, with such visual recreations of a lost world (not always a nice world, but certainly a luxurious one).

[Sini · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Uiteengescheurd" (194o) is het laatste deel van Miklós Bánffy's vergeten maar weer herontdekte Transsylvanische trilogie. De trilogie waarin een alwetende verteller ons meeneemt in de Hongaarse wereld van voor de Eerste Wereldoorlog, en in de totale ondergang van die wereld die niemand dan nog ziet aankomen. Alle drie delen zijn mooi vertaald door Rebekka Hermán Mostert, en haar drie nawoorden zijn informatief.

Ik las dit derde deel meteen na "Geteld, geteld" (1934) en "Te licht bevonden" (1937). Dat is niet per se nodig, want je kunt ook pauzes van maanden of zelfs een paar jaar nemen tussen elk deel. Maar het beviel mij prima. Want door die drie delen snel achter elkaar te lezen kon ik de samenhang beter overzien. En dus ook de ontwikkeling van diverse verhaallijnen, van diverse personages, van diverse motieven: hoe kleine details in deel 1 een onverwachte uitwerking krijgen in deel 3, hoe bepaalde bijfiguren allerlei onverwachte ontwikkelingen doormaken die best veel toevoegen aan de toch al zo gevarieerde pracht van de trilogie als geheel, hoe het ene adembenemde natuurtafereel het andere aanvult. Bovendien schrijft Bánffy heel overdadig en gedetailleerd, en daardoor behoorlijk overweldigend: precies dat kwam extra nadrukkelijk bij mij binnen omdat ik alle drie delen achter elkaar las, zonder rustpauze. Ook kon ik daardoor goed volgen hoe de toon in de laatste twee delen steeds somberder en wanhopiger wordt, en steeds zwartgalliger. Steeds meer personages gaan op even larmoyante als adembenemende wijze aan persoonlijke tragiek ten onder, de nationale en internationale politieke situatie wordt steeds nijpender en nijpender, alles en iedereen lijkt wel geleidelijk aan in te storten. Hoofdpersoon Bálint Abády, politicus en hervormer en vol van aanstekelijk bevlogen dromen, is bovendien aan het eind van dit derde deel al zijn hooggestemde illusies en al zijn jubelende verwachtingen kwijt. En hij neemt een ondraaglijk ellenlang, soms bijna onmatig sentimenteel, maar ook weergaloos ontroerend afscheid van alle onderdelen van de door hem zo geliefde Hongaarse - en Transsylvanische- wereld. Want precies die zo prachtige en intrigerende wereld, die in de vorige twee delen zo overdadig schitterde in al zijn oneindig gevarieerde rijkdom en al zijn verbluffend veelvormige facetten, zal worden weggevaagd door de Eerste Wereldoorlog. Zo weet Bálint. Zo weet ook de alwetende verteller. Zo wist ook Bánffy zelf, want die schreef deze trilogie jaren na de Eerste Wereldoorlog, en sidderend voor de Tweede Wereldoorlog die hij zag aankomen.

Vooral dit derde deel is ook een intrigerend tijdbeeld. Het maakt treffend alle internationale onrust voelbaar in de jaren vlak voor WO I. En ook hoe in Hongarije bijna niemand acht slaat op die onrust en op de steeds toenemende gevaren, omdat iedereen in de pers en de politiek bezig is met totaal loze achterkamertjespolitiek over volmaakt niet- urgente kwesties. Ik weet heel weinig van de jaren vlak voor WO I, en nog minder van het Hongaarse perspectief daarop, dus voor mij was dit allemaal wel heel leerzaam en verrassend. En ook op een beklemmende manier herkenbaar, trouwens, want wie zegt mij dat wijzelf nu niet in een vergelijkbare situatie leven? Het vraagt wel aardig wat doorzettingsvermogen om al de door Bánffy zo uitgebreid geschetste politieke verwikkelingen goed te volgen. Maar doorzetten loont zeker. Te meer omdat het politiek- algemene vaak mooi wordt verbonden met het persoonlijke. Als lezer kun je bijvoorbeeld prima volgen hoe al het politieke gekrakeel doorwerkt in het hoofd en het gemoed van Balint. En hoe de geleidelijke instorting van de Hongaarse wereld ook zichtbaar wordt - of op zijn minst een treffende pendant krijgt- in de gefnuikte, tragische levens van diverse personages. Daarin is Bánffy soms tamelijk onsubtiel en overdadig sentimenteel: de ondergang van Laszlo Gyeroffy, Balints neef en jeugdvriend, wordt bijvoorbeeld wel heel breed uitgemeten en staat wel heel vol met vet aangezette en schaamteloos op de traan mikkende passages. Maar ja, Laszlo is tegelijk ook wel een ongelofelijk sprankelende belichaming van muzikale talenten, bevlogen dromen, hooggestemde idealen en kunstzinnige potenties. En zelfs in deel 3 is hij voor sommige ontheemde bewonderaarsters nog immer een droomprins, en nog steeds de gedroomde belichaming van een andere, veel mooiere, aan alle banaliteit ontstegen bovenwereld. Precies dat maakt zijn ondergang in deel 3 dus wel heel schrijnend, extra tragisch en nog pijnlijker ontroerend. Daarom vond ik de passages over Laszlo's ondergang en dood uiteindelijk toch weergaloos adembenemend, ondanks de sentimentaliteit. Of misschien zelfs juist wel door de sentimentaliteit. Want wie zegt dat je over zulke schrijnende tragiek altijd geserreerd en gedoseerd zou moeten schrijven? Wie zegt dat ongegeneerd mikken op de traan soms niet ook passend kan zijn? En past een larmoyante toon juist niet naadloos bij de inderdaad wel heel tranentrekkende ondergang van Laszlo Gyeroffy? Temeer omdat die ondergang ook zo naadloos past bij de ondergang van al het fraaie in de Hongaarse wereld van toen? Ik houd niet van dik aangezette larmoyante taferelen, ook niet als het onderwerp daar zeer toe uitnodigt. Maar ondanks mijn innerlijk protest daartegen zoog Bánffy mij toch helemaal mee in al die tranentrekkende tragiek. Pure boeketreeks, soms, maar wel boeketreeks die voor mij werkt. Tot mijn eigen verbazing.

Fraai vind ik bovendien hoe Balint, die in deel 1 en 2 zo uitbundig genietend kon jubelen over de ultieme pracht van de natuur, in deel 3 nog steeds troost kan putten uit die natuurpracht. Of, beter gezegd misschien, uit de verlangens naar het hogere die door die natuurpracht worden opgewekt. Zie zijn volgende overdenking, naar aanleiding van de zelfmoord van een vriend: "Arme Gaszi! Zelfs in zijn laatste uren gingen zijn gedachten uit naar zijn grote, onvervulde cultuurdorst.... En Balints ogen vulden zich met tranen. Zo zat hij nog heel lang buiten, met zijn kin steunend in zijn hand, terwijl hij starend uitkeek over het witte veld voor hem. Wat was sneeuw toch wonderschoon, zo vlak voordat hij smolt! Het oppervlak viel uiteen in ijzig kant, duizenden glinsterende puntjes, allemaal in de richting van de zon gewend. De zonnestralen brandden er diepe, smalle gaatjes in, alsof er vanuit het zuiden ontelbare speren in geworpen waren. Het smelten veroorzaakte dat uiteenrafelen van het gladde oppervlak, dat door de warme zon langzaam maar zeker verwoest werd - en toch leek het alsof al die kleine sneeuwschuimen puntjes dooreen orkaan naar de zon geblazen werden, als een geheime hunkering naar het stralende licht, naar het hemelvuur, in een onnut en dodelijk verlangen. Het beeld leek Balint nu haast symbolisch, en hij dacht aan zijn vriend, die zelfmoord had gepleegd". Ja, dat beeld van de smeltende sneeuw, dat verwoest wordt door zijn verlangen naar de zon, is behoorlijk omineus: Gaszi ging ten onder aan zijn onvervulde verlangen naar cultuur, terwijl ook Balint zelf door allerlei vergeefse verlangens wordt gekweld. Maar dat verlangen is tegelijk heel verlokkend en prachtig, net als de natuur. Naast de ondergang, vergeefsheid en teloorgang is er dus ook die pracht. En dat wordt naar mijn smaak mooi voelbaar gemaakt in passages als deze. Deze scène lees ik dus als treurzang én lofzang: een treurzang over alle vergeefsheid en vergankelijkheid, een lofzang op alle - weliswaar tijdelijke- schittering en - weliswaar vergankelijke- pracht.

Een vergelijkbare combinatie van treurzang en lofzang meen ik te herkennen in de passages over de gedoemde, maar o zo hooggestemde liefde tussen Balint en Adrienne. In deel 1 en 2 van deze trilogie wordt al heel duidelijk dat die liefde nooit een "happy end" zal krijgen, en dat al hun hooggestemde dromen over een aan het aardse ontstijgende liefdesband onvervuld en onwerkelijk zullen blijven. In deel 3 wordt de relatie dan ook beëindigd, wat je als lezer dus allang zag aankomen, al is de exacte aanleiding naar mijn smaak dan wel weer verrassend. Kortom, ook hier veel tranentrekkende tragiek , vergeefsheid en onvervuldheid. Maar toch bevat ook deel 3 weer de nodige zinderende intensiteit. En dus allerlei jubel waarbij ik als lezer volop mee moet jubelen. Kijk met mij mee naar de volgende scène, waarin Balint bekijkt hoe Adrienne baadt in een beek in een dicht bos. En ervaar samen met mij hoe Balint helemaal in extase raakt van alle natuurpracht, en van Adrienne die te midden van al die onbevattelijke natuurpracht ook zelf een onbevattelijk- mythische gedaante aanneemt, als ware zij de belichaming van hogere sferen. Dat gaat zo: "Balint posteerde zich op de steile oever, met een goed uitzicht op de beek. Terwijl hij zich overgaf aan het moment kreeg hij het gevoel dat hij droomde. Het was betoverend. Misschien was dit hier om hem heen geen bos. Misschien was die rots daar beneden geen rots, en het bruisende water geen water. Misschien was er geen ruimte en geen afstand. Alles gebeurde in één dimensie, doorzichtige zonnestralen van dunne goudstof op een donkere achtergrond, hier en daar kleine glinsteringen, verder geen licht, een decor van paarsige boomstammen met nevelsluiers ertussen, die alles onwerkelijk deden lijken. En onder aan dat beeld, op de beroete spiegel, kringelden azuren cirkels! Midden in die ringen ontstond uit de sluiernevels een mistwitte vrouwenfiguur! Een vrouw die met rechte schouders en balancerende armen afdaalde! Haar haar was donkerder dan de zwarte rotsen, dan het mos, dan de boomstammen. Zo donker, dat het duister rondom haar lichte huid leek te drijven. Ze naderde het vallende water; het schuim rees op, eerst bij haar voeten, daarna stapsgewijs omhoog langs haar lange benen, haar dijen, en steeds hoger, steeds schuimender, alsof het uitzinnig raakte van de aanraking, van wat het omringde en van elkaar deed wijken. Daar stond een droombeeld, een visioen uit een antieke sage, een badende bosnimf in het wilde woud, of de godin van het bos, Artemis zelve....".

Zo intens en bloemrijk wordt toch maar in weinig boeken verlangd en gedroomd. Uiteraard verscherpt deze scène nog de tragiek: de zo intense liefde van Balint en Adrienne zal eindigen in onvervuldheid, de zo extatisch bejubelde natuurpracht is deel van een wereld die zijn ondergang tegemoet gaat, dus is alle pracht en verlangen ook van vergankelijkheid en vergeefsheid doordrenkt. Maar tegelijk is die vergankelijke pracht en vervoering nu wel opgetekend, waardoor deze scène toch bewaard blijft. De gedoemde wereld van toen is inmiddels voorbij, maar in die wereld werd ondanks alle doem en ellende ook bloemrijk gedroomd en verlangd, en precies DAT is ook opgetekend in deze trilogie. Waardoor deze trilogie niet alleen een treurzang is over het voorbije, maar ook een lofzang daarop en een gedenkteken daarvoor. Een gedenkteken misschien ook voor een tijd waarin mensen nog in extatische jubelende vervoering konden raken van een woud en een beek, en nog ongeremd geloofden in de mythische en bovenzinnelijk- sprookjesachtige pracht van de liefde. Een lofzang wellicht dus ook op een verdwenen mentaliteit, tot in de stijl aan toe: misschien is de sentimentaliteit en de onverdunde romantiek van dit boek wel 'ouderwets', een stijl die hoort bij een wereld die er niet meer is, maar ook een stijl die nog een allerlaatste keer opflakkert in deze trilogie. Een stijl en levensopvatting bovendien die voor mij, als 21e eeuwse en vrij rationalistische westerling, ook echt iets is "van vroeger", maar ook een bepaalde gevoelsintensiteit weerspiegelt waar ik soms stiekem naar verlang. En dat alles ontroerde mij behoorlijk.

Een exuberante lofzang, een ontroerende klaagzang, een intrigerend tijdbeeld: dat alles is deze trilogie. En de drie boeken staan ook nog eens vol van schrijnende passie, geëxalteerde natuurbeschrijvingen, intense schoonheidsbelevingen en meer. Ja, soms zijn ze larmoyant en sentimenteel, maar daarmee heb ik mij gaandeweg verzoend. In ben kortom blij dat ik deze trilogie nu ken.

[James Hogan · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Transylvanian Trilogy is now complete. Last night on the porch of EQ...I sat with about 25 pages remaining in this book and thought to myself that I couldn't walk home with the book unfinished. And so I came to that bitter melancholy end that I had no doubt was awaiting me. This trilogy has been a beautiful read. Indeed, if I think about the fiction I've read this year, this trilogy no doubt ranks at the very top. This book had so many poignant moments in it, so many paragraphs of lush descriptive prose, and so many thrilling accounts of tragic political drama. And that last one there is not intended to be humorous, although the idea of political intrigue can seem dull to some. One thing I've loved about this series (which I may have mentioned before?) is how it mixes pretty much all of my favourite things. I love well-crafted literature and I love history and I love the descriptions of beautiful places and I love reading about peoples' lives (as messy as they can be!) and I love romantic elements (in small enough doses!) and this series contains all of the aforementioned. I love reading about a place and a time that I knew not that well when I began...and delightfully and totally immersing myself in that setting. And thus was I able to do with the Transylvanian Trilogy. I now know early 20th-century Hungary a bit better than I did a few months ago! There are moments of joy and passion...and also moments of pain and sorrow. And of course, how could I expect a standard happy ending when I knew all roads led to the beginning of the Great War? And sure enough, the last book ends in 1914 after that general conflagration in Europe has begun...and Balint Abady - the one we have followed and lived with for three books - is traveling off to war. The mountains loom as large as tombstones in the distance, and the sun sets on Europe. I don't want to write much more for fear of being unable to capture the true beauty of these books. But, let me end with this sentiment. These books are about a time and place that seems foreign to us now. A time when there was no internet and jets did not ceaselessly cross the skies. A time when politics and news was something you found out about when you read the daily paper, not something you'd read about on your phone. A time when one could cross the countryside on horseback and breathe the clean unpolluted air and see the stars shining bright in the blackest night. Yet also...it was a time when people loved to dance and talk about their loves and joke about political nonsense. Just as now. It was a time when people liked to get dressed up and pursue their loves and roll their eyes at the follies of the world. Just as now. It was a time when one relished the sight of a stag on the outskirts of the forest and the beauties of the sunrise. Just as now. So as many differences as there may be between early 20th-century Transylvania and early 21st-century America...I see so many bonds between myself and the people in the pages of these novels. My heart yearns for beauty and love. And in these books, I saw the same passions expressed. Not always fulfilled, no. But the longing remains.

[Paulina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Zora Neale Hurston said once, there are years that ask questions, and there are years that answer. In Miklós Bánffy’s Hungary, there are answers but none is asking the right questions. His is a searing indictment of what caused the fall of his homeland and the decline of his people, but written by a loving hand so that it becomes a layered story of beloved days of his youth.

I wanted to give this review coherency because that’s what these books have given me. I’ve read them slowly, enjoying every sentence, picking up pace only at the last one’s transparent frustrations, or rather with Miklós Bánffy becoming transparent and somewhat self-inserting. But try as I might, I found writing a review for Transylvanian trilogy too intimidating. I am not sure if it was Miklós Bánffy’s doing, or the masterful translation’s, but these books have been one of the most enjoyable of last year’s reading.

It might be the juxtaposition of the sweeping political and high society tragedies with the human themes of belonging, self-worth as defined by your peers, addiction and self-destruction that was just so well done that did it for me. Or might it be that Miklos Banffy was plagued by the same questions that we are trying to answer today?

His is a main character of upright morals and standup virtue to whom others confide in because of his independent standing, and who becomes more and more disgusted by what he thinks is self serving and ignorant behaviour that would eventually lead to the fall of Hungary and the world war. But the questions that he answers are the questions of a man of his milieu, bonded by his class and his high standing. It will take a man willing to sacrifice his own good name to make a difference, and in the end it is to him that the homage is paid. It was only some days after reading that I realised that just like the political games of pre-WWI were a mystery to most, Miklós Bánffy blindsided me also. There is not a person in the Transylvanian trilogy that is not the victim of their social milieu.

In the end, it is less important to me to know if he aimed to make it that perspicacious, or if I added this layer on my own. Is it not a mark of a great novel to last well after it is given meaning by its contemporaries?

[Cristian · Rating 2 out of 5]

The book and overall the entire trilogy is good to give a view on the social atmosphere into Transylvania, Austro-Hungarian state and Balkans, within the lens of a Magyar grof. This can have some interesting details especially as it goes into political aspects as well. Clearly a success for nostalgics of having blue blood and noble class with servants living a luxurious and decadent lifestyle, rotten on the inside. The author was part of this class and also consider when the books were written (Transilvania's situation in Romania). The main storyline is quite linear, with the character representing Banffy having a positive and noble aura, while another main character takes all the flaws. Talking about flaws, the women are represented in a very simplified manner, most are fixed within some limits maybe with some moments when they make a confession or have a more complex thought. Going further on bias, all Romanian characters (the mountain people, as it is said of the villagers to avoid this ethnic repeated identification) all have major character defects - cheaters, cowards, killers, suspicious people, simple thinkers ; even the one who saves the fate of the main character is a Romanian irredentist who hates Hungarians. Banffy was supposedly a visionary politician with respect to minorities, imagine how the rest of politicians and grofs were! Anyway, impressive effort to put all this together.

[Hannah · Rating 5 out of 5]

The amazing final installment of an epic trilogy that chronicles the decline of a family, region, country, and empire. The Transylvanian Trilogy, in my opinion, gives epics like War and Peace a run for their money.
It’s an engrossing read for the characters and the politics— in fact the minor characters are more interesting than the main character, Balint Abady, especially as their stories are used to emphasize the downward spiral of the Austro-Hungarian empire.
The author’s life is also notable. He was very involved in the Hungarian government and this is likely why the political landscape in the book is portrayed with such detail. Bánffy’s point of view wasn’t one I always agreed with, but the strong opinions helped to merge the political side of the trilogy with the personal interests of Abady.

[Peter Petrik · Rating 5 out of 5]

Miklos Banffy was by all accounts a remarkable man. Not only an accomplished chronicler and a story teller superbly competent in dealing with the enormously broad topic covered by the Trilogy, but - from what I learned about his life and career - an uncompromisingly honest, generous and wise man and statesman with foresight so lacking in his countrymen. I have just finished the second book of the Transylvanian Trilogy and I found it even more compelling and satisfying than the first one. I admit that I found the idle, selfish, arrogant and self-indulgent life of the Hungarian aristocracy chronicled in detail in the first book irritating. The second book " They were divided" ends tragically for the protagonists of the story as well as for their country at the time the world had been spiralling into an abyss. I recommend this volume as well as the previous one without any reservations.

[5greenway · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 stars for a fitting end to the trilogy and to this brilliant trilogy as a whole.

The great ironic knowledge we have through this sequence is that we're hurtling towards the precipice of 1914, the writing on the wall. It's played straight with a kind of sober despair in the political sequences and as a bitter sequel to the storylines of love, honour and friendship. The theme of ignorant, insular nationalism played against a global crisis it has no conception of, or hope of dealing with, is pretty universal.