This book is definitely quirky and fantastical, and I appreciate Levi's imaginative powers. While Entertaining, it also left me with far too many questions. Obviously it's intended to be fanciful, but it's more than that. What's with the abrupt dethroning at the end? Just because Malory's servant died? think I need to read it again to see if something new occurs to me.
The bizarro Romanian couple make Malory and Louiza seem like Ward and Joan (June?) Cleaver. I mean, really. Neither Louisa nor Malory suspected Tibor and _?_ had kidnapped their baby? For 2 otherwise intelligent adults, each must have experienced more than a few misfirings between synapses. Tibor is a sleaze, and knows it. He supposedly blew himself up because he was filled with such self-loathing, right?
(As an aside: his decision to direct a performance of Dante's 9 circles of Hell on Christmas Eve was mighty bizarre. And yet it was such a hit with the populace!)
Speaking of Hell... Louisa gets a bum rap; she experienced her own 9 levels, for decades, while what's-his-face gained a kingdom. She lost everything and was held hostage for years. Malory's later-in-life decision to stop trying to find her just felt wrong. Why do you think he gave up? Justbtoo old and too tired to try again?
Ach, I should have written down my thoughts right after finishing the book, rather than starting a new one. But Why bother writing anything at all if I have so little (of worth) to say? So little of certitude, anyway.
I was first drawn to the book because the press had mentioned that the main character was an organist in Cambridge, and she a math whiz. Both subjects interest me, as did the spy angle (see reference to red-haired man).
It's just bizarre that the malevolent, mysterious red-haired man is never identified, nor are we given an explanation as to why Louiza (supposedly) married his loser-sidekick 'Vince'. I may be naive, so someone please explain: Did they rape her, too? Besides drugging her? To overcome all her defenses until she submitted to their demands? Ugh. (And shame on other reviewers for not deeming this worrisome or worthy of note.)
Meanwhile, Mal-pal has no problems whatsoever; Antonella (sp?) has been in love with him forever, since he first came to Cambridge, anyway. He subsists on biscuits and tea for his entire tenure at university it seems, which she always has at the ready. We catch up with her later in life—when Malory is in his 70s—where she tells him she married and has 3 kids. (Or was it 2? Not important.) Her hubs is dead, but she feels nothing more for Mal now than friendship. And she is a good friend, putting him up indefinitely at her home.
He considered Tibor a friend though, too, who could not be more different from Antonella and less worthy of being called Friend. (Why does he hate Malory so much, anyway? For inheriting a kingdom?)
Didn't he and Wifey kidnap Louisa and Malory's baby? Was i the only reader confused by his varied explanations for how they came to have a child? At the beginning, it's because she miscarried, and he found a baby out back in the dumpster. (yeah, right.) (Was that the correct location? I fear I've already forgotten too many details.) An infant that grows up to be gifted in math and is very pale and blonde—obviously a product of someone of Northern heritage, not swarthy like Tibor. somehow Malory misses that. But then I forget the number of years that pass before he next sees Tibor et al. yet they live in the same city, for decades. How could Malory not see their child as it grew up? If he did, surely he would have suspected that she was Louisa's missing child. Even if He didn't see the baby when it was born. Buying Tibor's story about a miscarriage is one thing, but did he never once link the disappearance of Louisa's babe with the coincidental appearance of theirs? Especially after learning that Louisa was immediately wrenched from her infant and hustled from the hospital by the so-called physician, the dastardly Red-Haired Man. Did Malory really never see the child until she was an adult? The whole thing is so far-fetched it's ridiculous—but then this _is_ a work of fiction, and a _very_ imaginative one at that. I guess the reader is just supposed to suspend his/her disbelief.
Definitely need to reread if I have a hope of understanding this book. Or does the author not want us to understand? I.e., is the work just a ramble that is not supposed to make sense? Not meant to have any deeper meaning? I was going to say that perhaps I'm not sophisticated enough a reader to know anything for certain (in this case, anyway), because one review (by a GR author) just blew me away with its erudite conclusions. But who knows whether he is right or wrong. Can any of us say we understand this completely?
This is my 3rd rewrite since GR zapped the second (expletive, expletive). In the 2nd I mentioned another review here, by Boris, who graciously included a link to another recent book, entitled The Messiah of Septimania—which is based on historical fact. There really was a Jewish kingdom of Septimania in southern France, in the 700s. I know, it's mind-boggling. Trés cool. Thank you, Boris!