"Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away."
—Doctor Iannis.
Απαπα!
Why, oh why did I wait twenty years to read this enchanting novel?
Being something of a contrarian, I didn't succumb to the rampant Corellimania that existed after this novel's release in 1994, but I'm especially pleased that I have now righted this wrong.
Bernières serves up a Greek wartime love story that is as multi-layered as a Sunday moussaka.
Set on the Ionian island of Cephalonia during Italian and German WWII occupation, the book hits the ground running. Before you’ve even sniffed the mezze, Louis conjures up a delightful opening scene in Dr Iannis's surgery that should have you chuckling out loud before you can shout taramasalata!
Admittedly, Bernières does go off the rails for a bit, retreating into a one-man word orgy, all too pleased with his own authorial genius. This results in some superfluity in the early chapters.
But don't worry, stick with it, fellow bibliophiles; once this frippery subsides, the main players are introduced and the story gathers momentum.
Doctor Iannis, and daughter Pelagia, are the beating heart of a modern fable that even Aesop would have been proud to put his name to.
Girl-power-Pelagia, whose presence is intrinsic to the story, is brought up to be fiercely independent, as her father knows only too well that wartime Greece is resolutely patriarchal.
We also learn about in-the-closet, Italian man-mountain, Carlo Piero Guercio, who was previously sent on a suicide mission to wintry Albania (where beards became stalactites and soldiers purposely shit themselves in order to savour some momentary warmth).
Happily, Carlo's repressed homosexuality, and his unassailable bravery, is written with the nobility it deserves.
"I am exploding with the fire of love and there is none to accept it or nourish it," he laments.
Apparently, Bernières has done a huge disservice to the memory of the real-life Greek freedom fighters, who fought valiantly against their oppressors; but, from a purely artistic standpoint, the timeless futility of war is exemplified within these pages to such a degree that it makes Catch-22 seem a mere Catch-11 in comparison.
Enter reluctant warrior, Captain Antonio Corelli, heading a ragtag troop of Italian soldiers who march into Cephalonia pulling funny faces and blowing kisses at signorinas.
You might be pleased to know that despite a copious infusion of delightful humour, the author ensures that the stark horrors of war are not expunged. And there is a passage, approaching the last part of the book, that is so lion-hearted, so profoundly sad, and so utterly moving that I had to put the book down to allow my emotion to subside.
The populace, and the soldiers themselves, are starving, but between the rocks of such hardship, fragile love affairs begin to blossom. And, as in all good love stories, there is a great deal of sacrifice and heartache to be found. One such example is that heroic Carlo secretly harbours a profound amore for Captain Corelli which, crushingly, has to remain secret.
By the end of this sweeping, tragicomic epic, I have a feeling that most of you will have grown to love Carlo, Antonio, Iannis and Pelagia as much as I did.
Such was my excitement in the reading of this book I, of course, began smashing plates on the kitchen floor, shouting “Opa!”
God, it was truly a great read, fully deserving of all five stars!