Re in eterno (1940)

Azt hiszem, így tisztességes kezelni egy nagy nemzeti mítoszt: játékosan és szabadon. Megőrizni a történet alapvonalait, de áttörni a nyelvi és gondolkodásbeli korlátokat (amelyek a századok során óhatatlanul rárakódtak) azzal, hogy nem félünk az anakronizmusoktól, és bátran kibeszélünk a jelen olvasóihoz. Ezzel érzékeltetjük, hogy maga az üzenet (mint minden időtálló mítosz üzenete) nincs bezárva az idő kalitkájába, hanem az örökkévalóságnak szól. Az Üdv néked, Arthur, nagy király bővelkedik ugyan mulatságos kalandokban, és gazdagon fricskázza a lovagkor blődségeit, de nem puszta paródia – több okból sem lehet az. Mindenekelőtt azért, mert olyan életteli szereplőgárdát játszat, hogy azok szétfeszítik a komédia kereteit – úgy megszereti őket az ember, hogy én szinte féltem végigolvasni ezt a könyvet, nehogy bajuk essék*. Mert hát – nem titok ez: az Arthur-mondakör nem vidám olvasmány – bizony bajuk esik. Ez a könyv ugyanis úgy játékos, hogy közben végtelenül szomorú is. (Megjegyezném: csak a legnagyobbak tudják ezt a két szintet – a játékost és a szomorút – egy szövegen belül mozgatni.) Keserű, bölcs tanmese ez az emberről és a hatalomról: a királyról, aki életét teszi fel arra, hogy az Erő Törvényének helyére az Igazság Törvényét helyezze, hogy aztán ez az abszolút (és épp ezért: könyörtelen) Igazság legyen a végzete. Arról, hogy a Rend, még ha jó szándékból születik is (hogy a Káoszt kordában tartsa), gyakran túlnő az emberen, és felfalja őt. Mert hiába hisszük azt, hogy vannak Jó Emberek, meg vannak Rossz Emberek, és elég kettejüket elkülöníteni a tökéletes társadalom eléréséhez – ez nem igaz. A helyzet az, hogy a Jó is, meg a Rossz is az emberen belül van – nincs olyan Nagy Király, aki ezen változtathatna.

* Vajon megmenthetnénk a haláltól mondjuk Zola regényeinek hőseit, ha soha többé nem olvasnánk Zola-regényt? ( )

DNF

This did not work for me at all. ( )

This has been on the ol' to-read list more than half my life. I was finally in a state of mind to be captured by it.

It was more episodic and philosophical than I expected. I had anticipated magic, action, and sensory details. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by a thoughtful, self-aware, humorous narrator who pivoted quickly from grand, sweeping views of the historical period (a mix of real and fantasy UK) to suddenly intimate, psychological character studies of the main figures. For the most part, when there was dramatic violence or unusual magic or other classic elements of the genre, White presented them quickly, almost perfunctorily. The first book lays the groundwork for this, though. It sort of gets "the fun" out of the way when Arthur is a child by indulging the most fantastic episodes of all four books. Once Arthur is king, the fundamentals of Merlyn's lessons are reflected in the shift in narrative style from magical fantasy to historical, human drama. It's still fanciful, but it becomes quite tragic and depressing. I clearly had not really known anything about this classic beyond a general acquaintance with the characters and plot, so this style came out of left field. I liked it, but it still felt plodding at times.

It is irresistably quotable. A few that I highlighted:

"Don't ever let anybody teach you to think, Lance: it is the curse of the world."

"The heart of tragedy does not lie in stealing or taking away. Any featherpated girl can steal a heart. It lies in giving, in putting on, in adding, in smothering without the pillows. Desdemona robbed of life or honour is nothing to a Mordred, robbed of himself..."

"Perhaps man was neither good nor bad, was only a machine in an insensate universe, his courage no more than a reflex to danger, like the automatic jump at the pin-prick. Perhaps there were no virtues, unless jumping at pin-pricks was a virtue, and humanity only a mechanical donkey led on by the iron carrot of love, through the pointless treadmill of reproduction. Perhaps Might was a law of Nature, needed to keep the survivors fit."

"We begin to forget, as we go stolidly balancing along, that there could have been a time when we were young bodies flaming with the impetus of life. It is hardly consoling to remember such a feeling, and so it deadens in our minds. But there was a time when each of us stood naked before the world, confronting life as a serious problem with which we were intimately and passionately concerned... All these problems and feelings fade away when we get the seventh sense... The bodies which we loved, the truths which we sought, the Gods whom we questioned: we are deaf and blind to them now, safely and automatically balancing along toward the inevitable grave, under the protection of our last sense." ( )

This has been on the ol' to-read list more than half my life. I was finally in a state of mind to be captured by it.

It was more episodic and philosophical than I expected. I had anticipated magic, action, and sensory details. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by a thoughtful, self-aware, humorous narrator who pivoted quickly from grand, sweeping views of the historical period (a mix of real and fantasy UK) to suddenly intimate, psychological character studies of the main figures. For the most part, when there was dramatic violence or unusual magic or other classic elements of the genre, White presented them quickly, almost perfunctorily. The first book lays the groundwork for this, though. It sort of gets "the fun" out of the way when Arthur is a child by indulging the most fantastic episodes of all four books. Once Arthur is king, the fundamentals of Merlyn's lessons are reflected in the shift in narrative style from magical fantasy to historical, human drama. It's still fanciful, but it becomes quite tragic and depressing. I clearly had not really known anything about this classic beyond a general acquaintance with the characters and plot, so this style came out of left field. I liked it, but it still felt plodding at times.

It is irresistably quotable. A few that I highlighted:

"Don't ever let anybody teach you to think, Lance: it is the curse of the world."

"The heart of tragedy does not lie in stealing or taking away. Any featherpated girl can steal a heart. It lies in giving, in putting on, in adding, in smothering without the pillows. Desdemona robbed of life or honour is nothing to a Mordred, robbed of himself..."

"Perhaps man was neither good nor bad, was only a machine in an insensate universe, his courage no more than a reflex to danger, like the automatic jump at the pin-prick. Perhaps there were no virtues, unless jumping at pin-pricks was a virtue, and humanity only a mechanical donkey led on by the iron carrot of love, through the pointless treadmill of reproduction. Perhaps Might was a law of Nature, needed to keep the survivors fit."

"We begin to forget, as we go stolidly balancing along, that there could have been a time when we were young bodies flaming with the impetus of life. It is hardly consoling to remember such a feeling, and so it deadens in our minds. But there was a time when each of us stood naked before the world, confronting life as a serious problem with which we were intimately and passionately concerned... All these problems and feelings fade away when we get the seventh sense... The bodies which we loved, the truths which we sought, the Gods whom we questioned: we are deaf and blind to them now, safely and automatically balancing along toward the inevitable grave, under the protection of our last sense." ( )

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