Balthazar by Lawrence DurrellMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
“English has two great forgotten words, namely ‘helpmeet’ which is much greater than ‘lover’ and ‘loving-kindness’ which is so much greater than ‘love’ or even ‘passion.’ “
It was midnight, obsidian black outside, the dinner table lit with an electronic lamp. No sound but the endless ostinato of rain.
For some inexplicable reason I felt drawn to revisiting a compilation I had put down months before. Book 1 (JUSTINE) was beautifully written but failed to capture the imagination. Thankfully Book 2 (BALTHAZAR) had more to offer to this reader.
Perhaps it was a mix of a wiser friend’s recommendation, and our human desire for completion. After all, what is the commitment of reading one book above others in the context of spending precious finite time, but a form of love?
Into the muddy Alexandrian waters of lust without caution and love without responsibility I threw myself last night and early this morning. And I’m happy to report that, unlike the volume preceding it, BALTHAZAR had a lot more to offer. It reminded me of a more literary Agatha Christie novel, in that the murder in the first book is explained. This seems to be Durrell’s expertise: focusing on the problems of the rich and bored, but written in the most brilliant manner borne out of the best education possible.
And when one is stuck in a blackout, BALTHAZAR isn’t too bad a way to spend a few hours. Durrell’s shimmering prose almost, ALMOST ennobles what remains (for me) a messy cauldron of the messes of privilege and lack of honorable ways to spend one’s time. One would think there were more interesting things going in pre World War II Egypt than love affairs gone wrong.
I’ve come this far. Only two more to go, and perhaps one of them will raise the average of the sum of the quartet’s parts.
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