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The Writing on the Wall: The Transylvania Trilogy #2
They Were Found Wanting
Balint Abady is forced to part from the beautiful and unhappily married Adrienne Uzdy. This title contrasts a life of privilege and corruption with the lives and problems of an expatriate Romanian peasant minority whom Balint tries to help. It is an unrivalled evocation of a rich aristocratic world oblivious of its impending demise.
470 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1937
About the author
Miklós Bánffy
22 books61 followersCount Miklós Bánffy de Losoncz was a Hungarian nobleman, politician, and novelist. His books include The Transylvanian Trilogy (They Were Counted, They Were Found Wanting and 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.
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.
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November 6, 2022
Now it’s the autumn of 1906 and it’s another session of the Budapest Parliament… And the parliament seems to be just a horde abiding by the law of crowds… And politicians are unprincipled and self-serving… And all the political decisions never seem to be quite right…
And in spite of his intensive political activity the young protagonist still finds time for fun… So during a wedding party he participates in the prank of stealing a cow from the night-watchman who has fallen asleep…
But the times are troubled and the life isn’t so carefree… All the attempts to save his self-distructive cousin fail… Deception prospers all around… The obstacles between him and his beloved seem to be hardly surmountable… And unexpectedly, against his will, he becomes a partaker in a dirty political intrigue…
Even trying to do good one may inadvertently find oneself standing on the side of evil.
Pal Hoitsy‚ the Speaker‚ ascended the podium‚ his handsome grey head and well-trimmed imperial looking well against the oak panelling behind the platform. In stilted words he commented on the importance of this blessed situation in which confidence had been restored between the nation and the King‚ the Emperor Franz-Josef in Vienna.
And in spite of his intensive political activity the young protagonist still finds time for fun… So during a wedding party he participates in the prank of stealing a cow from the night-watchman who has fallen asleep…
It was a bizarre procession, the women in silk dresses and high-heeled shoes and the men in thin patent-leather evening pumps and evening clothes and, in their midst, the skinny little cow, sickly and dirty and with her backside crusty with dried dung, being urged on as quickly as possible so that she would not start to make a noise too close to home and thus wake her rightful owner. All went well and the little band was already half-way up the hill and well out of earshot when the cow recovered from her surprise and started mooing pathetically.
But the times are troubled and the life isn’t so carefree… All the attempts to save his self-distructive cousin fail… Deception prospers all around… The obstacles between him and his beloved seem to be hardly surmountable… And unexpectedly, against his will, he becomes a partaker in a dirty political intrigue…
‘But I would rather fight with him,’ he said, ‘than publish all that dirt. I don’t want to destroy him, it’s not in my nature, but neither do I want anyone to think that I raked all this up just to save my own skin.’
‘So you’d rather shoot it out with a rogue like him. That’s what he is and we both know it!’
Even trying to do good one may inadvertently find oneself standing on the side of evil.
January 19, 2013
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 Divided
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 Divided
June 10, 2021
…pero los príncipes del banquete no la vieron, sino que embriagados gritaron que sacaran del tesoro del Señor los vasos de plata y de oro que habían traído sus antepasados. Y sacaron los vasos. Y bebieron con ellos mucho vino y se emborracharon más. Y dejaron perder los vasos del Señor peleando y maldiciéndose unos a otros por sus dioses de metal, de madera, de piedra y de barro. Mientras, los dedos de mano de hombre continuaron escribiendo delante del candelero sobre el encalado de la pared del palacio real. Y la segunda palabra que esculpieron fue: «Tekel: Pesado has sido en balanza, y fuiste hallado falto…».
Me gusta leer novelas y también libros de Historia, pero paradójicamente no soy muy aficionado a la novela histórica. Quizá sean manías mías, pero diría que no son ni una cosa ni la otra. La Trilogía de Transilvania de Miklós Bánffy suele ser incluida en el género, por la vívida y detallada caracterización que hace su autor de una época muy específica, pero, a diferencia de otros autores, Bánffy vivió esa época y participó directamente en los acontecimientos que describe. Para escribir su saga no necesito perder tiempo documentándose sobre la Historia, así que se dedicó a poner pasión en su historia.
Miklós Bánffy nació en Kolozsvár, la principal ciudad de Transilvania — actualmente en Rumanía, pero en aquella época parte del reino de Hungría, a su vez integrado en el Imperio Austrohúngaro. Fue Conde de Losoncz y perteneció —como los protagonistas de su saga— a una destacada dinastía aristocrática de origen húngaro. Además de su obra como novelista, músico, pintor, dramaturgo y escenógrafo, es recordado por su carrera política y diplomática. Bánffy, que comparte muchos rasgos con el principal personaje de la trilogía, Bálint Abadi, tenía todo lo necesario para escribirla: conocía la escena política de su país como la palma de su mano y sentía pasión por la literatura.
Al final de Los días contados dejábamos a Bálint y a László bastante perdidos. Sus respectivos amores, Adrienne y Klára, parecían más inalcanzables que nunca y sus objetivos en la vida se alejaban cada vez más. László, consumido por la pena, había abandonado su carrera musical y se había entregado al juego y a la bebida. Bálint, por más que lo intentaba, era incapaz de sacar adelante las reformas que quería implantar en sus tierras y chocaba una y otra vez con la corrupción y la inercia de las estructuras tradicionales. La política nacional, por otra parte, no era menos decepcionante.
En Las almas juzgadas, los caminos de Bálint y László se separan cada vez más. A pesar de compartir una sincera amistad desde la infancia y la misma pasión por las mismas cosas, sus diferentes maneras de afrontar la vida les encaminan hacia destinos opuestos. Son una metáfora del carácter dual de Hungría, capaz de lo mejor y de lo peor, de brillar y de autodestruirse al mismo tiempo.
A pesar de todo, Bálint tratará de refugiarse en sus obligaciones como político y en la explotación de sus tierras. Mientras, Adrienne hace equilibrios entre su desgraciado matrimonio con Uzdy y su amor secreto por Bálint. Oculta tras una cortina de admiradores que la cortejan galantemente —como corresponde a una mujer casada—, trata de mantener en secreto una relación con Bálint que no parece hacerles felices.
Por tópicas que estas situaciones puedan parecer, y por ñoño que resulte a veces el tono en el están narradas, los personajes son suficientemente complejos como para salvar la historia. Al contrario de los arquetipos que suelen aparecer en estas sagas, son capaces de reconocer sus flaquezas y contraponerlas a los elevados sentimientos románticos por lo que tanto sufren. Bálint, por ejemplo, es consciente de que su amor puro y desinteresado por Adrienne está íntimamente entretejido con un intenso deseo sexual que a veces se impone a sus promesas y compromete sus resoluciones.
Del mismo modo, sus bien intencionados planes con respecto a los campesinos que viven en sus tierras se van a menudo al traste por su falta de perspicacia o paciencia. Sigue tratando de ser el terrateniente paternalista y compasivo que cree que debe ser, pero cuando las cosas no salen a la primera como esperaba pierde los estribos o se aburre de esperar.
La relación patriarcal que existió durante siglos entre el terrateniente y su pueblo no ha desaparecido con la abolición de la servidumbre. Hay que dirigir, ayudar, cuidar a los que son económica y culturalmente inferiores. Considéralos tus hijos, tanto a los del pueblo como a tus criados. Sé severa, pero justa y comprensiva. No es casual que la lengua húngara use la misma palabra para designar a la familia y a la servidumbre…
Es otoño de 1906 y, por primera vez en mucho tiempo, parece que Hungría puede disfrutar de un periodo de tranquilidad: hay estabilidad política, la economía nacional retorna a su cauce y vuelve a reinar la armonía entre las dos mitades del Imperio. Pero el país es un polvorín que puede explotar en cualquier momento: la paz se cimenta en el compromiso de no pedir responsabilidades a los anteriores gobiernos, culpables de las sucesivas crisis políticas que ahogaron al país por años, mientras que las minorías y los nacionalistas comienzan a hacer ruido. (De nuevo, hay muchas lecciones que podríamos aprender hoy de sucesos de hace más de cien años.)
Se discutía la proposición de ley de enseñanza presentada por Apponyi. Por una parte se ofrecía una ayuda económica considerable a las escuelas elementales de las minorías, lo cual significaba un gran esfuerzo por parte del Estado, pero por otra, como contrapartida, se exigía la enseñanza del idioma oficial, el húngaro, y el derecho de control sobre el profesorado.
Los problemas en los Balcanes amenazan con encender la mecha, en Viena se empieza a hablar de rearme, de lanzar una guerra preventiva contra Italia, pero en Budapest la clase política húngara, fiel a su tradicional inconsciencia, siguen mucho más preocupados de sus pequeñas disputas, de sus intrigas palaciegas que de los que pase más allá de las puertas del parlamento o del casino.
En los Balcanes es fácil provocar una guerra en cualquier momento. Lo que significa que habría ciento ochenta y dos millones de personas contra los cuarenta y siete de la Monarquía. Si Alemania corre a defendernos, será atacada por Francia e Inglaterra porque para los franceses sería una oportunidad de venganza sin igual y para los ingleses una ocasión excelente para aniquilar la flota y el comercio alemán.
Éste era el ambiente político húngaro en el momento en que se cumplieron los augurios de la prensa inglesa. La Monarquía anunció la anexión de Bosnia.
Continuará…
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March 26, 2015
Within the music press there is a cliché regarding the second album, which is that often it will be a disappointment, usually because it is a re-tread or, more specifically, an inferior version of what the band or musician debuted with. The suggestion is that bands and songwriters will splurge all their best material and ideas on their first record and then find themselves at a kind of creative standstill when it comes to the next one. A good example of this would be The Strokes. I’m no fan but I know that their debut is much loved, while their second effort was largely seen as being the same but slightly worse and so was met with lukewarm praise. Of course, this need not solely apply to music, it can equally apply to literature. It is not an identical situation, because the books are not separate entities, but the second volume of Miklos Banffy’s Transylvanian Trilogy could be described as a sophomore slump, in that it contains many of the same elements that I enjoyed in They Were Counted, but is less original, less startling, less interesting and ultimately less satisfying.
In fairness, They Were Found Wanting starts brilliantly, with an extended serenade scene involving a number of familiar characters. While I don’t like to simply describe, or retell, aspects of a novel it is probably worthwhile in this instance because the whole thing is so charming. According to Banffy serenading a woman you are in love with doesn’t simply involve turning up under her window and warbling your heart out, but is a coordinated, complex and expensive procedure. First you need to hire a band to accompany you, then you need a table and some champagne. Serenading is not, as I had thought, a singular pursuit either, but can be done with a bunch of friends. This is what happens in They Were Found Wanting; Pityu Kendy, Uncle Ambrus and others get together in order to pay homage to Adrienne, sharing the cost and taking it in turns to sing.
Perhaps the most engaging aspects of this second volume are Pali Uzdy’s increasingly bizarre behaviour and the continuation of Laszlo’s fall from grace, and both characters are present at the serenade. Laszlo is not, of course, interested in declaring his love for Adrienne, but rather tags along because he is a drunk and will go where the booze is. In my review of They Were Counted I said that Laszlo’s story is of a type, by which I mean that it is predictable. However, although his role is not as prominent as before, his story is actually less predictable in They Were Found Wanting. Banffy takes the young man’s sadness, his self-destruction to a greater level, so that Laszlo basically becomes a penniless, embittered alcoholic. I imagine a lot of readers will root for Laszlo from the very beginning; he is artistic and sensitive, and so to bring him so low is a brave move on the author’s part.
While Laszlo is only a kind of harmless bystander, Pali Uzdy’s appearance at the serenade is more disconcerting for those who are in earnest about paying homage to Adrienne. Her husband is, of course, meant to be away, but turns up in the middle of the operation, plonks himself down at the table, ruins the mood by making strange mocking comments, and ends up firing a shot at Laszlo. Uzdi is a fascinating character, an unpredictable and sinister man. As we found out in the first volume, he is a rapist, but his villainy in volume two comes to have a surreal, crazy, almost satanic quality about it. His shooting at Laszlo, for example, is absolutely without justification. Uzdy clearly gets off on frightening people; it is how he exerts power over them. Indeed, rape itself is often described as being more about power than sex. I would say that, as with Laszlo, Uzdy doesn’t appear frequently enough in They Were Found Wanting, or at least not until the final 60-70 pages, but when he does appear the book comes alive, if only because one has no idea just what exactly he will do next. He seems capable of anything.
Unfortunately, these small gains, or improvements, are not enough to cover for the series’ serious loses. Balint and Adrienne’s relationship, for example, which previously provided most of the excitement, here lacks momentum [again, at least until the final 60-70 pages]. Throughout volume one the action and drama centred around whether they would get together, but that issue was resolved at the end of the previous novel. In They Were Found Wanting their relationship coasts for long periods or, to put it more negatively, goes through the motions. Indeed, Adrienne’s vow to kill herself has been all but forgotten and, although they still speak about love etc in lofty terms, and even though there is some tension regarding whether she will leave her husband, their interactions struck me as oddly pedestrian and stilted. This change in tone and pace, and lack of drama, also has consequences in terms of how we respond to the characters themselves. Not only is a less despondent Adrienne less captivating, but, more problematically, Balint is revealed as pretty much a non-entity. Without his partner providing the emotional fireworks it becomes clear that he is little more than a well-meaning dolt. Over 1000 pages into the book and I don’t think he has done or said a single memorable thing.
Having said all that, I guess that one could view many of They Were Found Wanting‘s issues as typical of a very long novel. I am, of course, reviewing each volume separately, and perhaps that is not the best way to go about judging The Transylvanian Trilogy. True, this second volume may not stand up very well on its own, but it is also true that it does make more sense as part of a whole; it certainly is not gripping, but then life is not always continual sturm and drang, there are longueurs. However, if one wants to argue that the series ought to be read as one long novel, then there is one aspect of this particular book, one fault with it, that cannot be justified, which is that Banffy wrote it as though one either had not read the previous volume or one cannot remember anything about it. What I mean by this is that he, infuriatingly, tediously, consistently, repeats things – both in terms of plot and character traits – that you already know and can well remember if you are reading the two volumes back-to-back. It gets so bad at points that They Were Found Wanting is like reading a synopsis or summing up of volume one, much like one of those ‘last week on…’ voiceovers that precede a new episode of a TV series.
---
The Transylvanian Trilogy
Part 1: They Were Counted https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Part 3: They Were Divided https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
In fairness, They Were Found Wanting starts brilliantly, with an extended serenade scene involving a number of familiar characters. While I don’t like to simply describe, or retell, aspects of a novel it is probably worthwhile in this instance because the whole thing is so charming. According to Banffy serenading a woman you are in love with doesn’t simply involve turning up under her window and warbling your heart out, but is a coordinated, complex and expensive procedure. First you need to hire a band to accompany you, then you need a table and some champagne. Serenading is not, as I had thought, a singular pursuit either, but can be done with a bunch of friends. This is what happens in They Were Found Wanting; Pityu Kendy, Uncle Ambrus and others get together in order to pay homage to Adrienne, sharing the cost and taking it in turns to sing.
Perhaps the most engaging aspects of this second volume are Pali Uzdy’s increasingly bizarre behaviour and the continuation of Laszlo’s fall from grace, and both characters are present at the serenade. Laszlo is not, of course, interested in declaring his love for Adrienne, but rather tags along because he is a drunk and will go where the booze is. In my review of They Were Counted I said that Laszlo’s story is of a type, by which I mean that it is predictable. However, although his role is not as prominent as before, his story is actually less predictable in They Were Found Wanting. Banffy takes the young man’s sadness, his self-destruction to a greater level, so that Laszlo basically becomes a penniless, embittered alcoholic. I imagine a lot of readers will root for Laszlo from the very beginning; he is artistic and sensitive, and so to bring him so low is a brave move on the author’s part.
While Laszlo is only a kind of harmless bystander, Pali Uzdy’s appearance at the serenade is more disconcerting for those who are in earnest about paying homage to Adrienne. Her husband is, of course, meant to be away, but turns up in the middle of the operation, plonks himself down at the table, ruins the mood by making strange mocking comments, and ends up firing a shot at Laszlo. Uzdi is a fascinating character, an unpredictable and sinister man. As we found out in the first volume, he is a rapist, but his villainy in volume two comes to have a surreal, crazy, almost satanic quality about it. His shooting at Laszlo, for example, is absolutely without justification. Uzdy clearly gets off on frightening people; it is how he exerts power over them. Indeed, rape itself is often described as being more about power than sex. I would say that, as with Laszlo, Uzdy doesn’t appear frequently enough in They Were Found Wanting, or at least not until the final 60-70 pages, but when he does appear the book comes alive, if only because one has no idea just what exactly he will do next. He seems capable of anything.
Unfortunately, these small gains, or improvements, are not enough to cover for the series’ serious loses. Balint and Adrienne’s relationship, for example, which previously provided most of the excitement, here lacks momentum [again, at least until the final 60-70 pages]. Throughout volume one the action and drama centred around whether they would get together, but that issue was resolved at the end of the previous novel. In They Were Found Wanting their relationship coasts for long periods or, to put it more negatively, goes through the motions. Indeed, Adrienne’s vow to kill herself has been all but forgotten and, although they still speak about love etc in lofty terms, and even though there is some tension regarding whether she will leave her husband, their interactions struck me as oddly pedestrian and stilted. This change in tone and pace, and lack of drama, also has consequences in terms of how we respond to the characters themselves. Not only is a less despondent Adrienne less captivating, but, more problematically, Balint is revealed as pretty much a non-entity. Without his partner providing the emotional fireworks it becomes clear that he is little more than a well-meaning dolt. Over 1000 pages into the book and I don’t think he has done or said a single memorable thing.
Having said all that, I guess that one could view many of They Were Found Wanting‘s issues as typical of a very long novel. I am, of course, reviewing each volume separately, and perhaps that is not the best way to go about judging The Transylvanian Trilogy. True, this second volume may not stand up very well on its own, but it is also true that it does make more sense as part of a whole; it certainly is not gripping, but then life is not always continual sturm and drang, there are longueurs. However, if one wants to argue that the series ought to be read as one long novel, then there is one aspect of this particular book, one fault with it, that cannot be justified, which is that Banffy wrote it as though one either had not read the previous volume or one cannot remember anything about it. What I mean by this is that he, infuriatingly, tediously, consistently, repeats things – both in terms of plot and character traits – that you already know and can well remember if you are reading the two volumes back-to-back. It gets so bad at points that They Were Found Wanting is like reading a synopsis or summing up of volume one, much like one of those ‘last week on…’ voiceovers that precede a new episode of a TV series.
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The Transylvanian Trilogy
Part 1: They Were Counted https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Part 3: They Were Divided https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
September 7, 2017
Carries on from the first book, with the ongoing love saga between Balint and Adrienne, Laszlo still burnt from his previous failures and so unable to move on and Hungary about to be shafted (again) by Austria and WWI beckoning. This did not make as much impact on me as Book I probably because it was more of the same.
November 22, 2015
Two quotes from the book which I kept going back to over and over show the twin themes I took from the book. On one hand the people's increased self-centeredness is making them indifferent to the national and international turmoil and as a result they are unable to effectively do anything to stop the move towards war. On the other hand, as the tragedy inevitably unfolds, turning inward toward self and ones loved ones are the only things that offer hope or solace. In the end, however, it is all selfishness and doesn't bring happiness or stability.
Quotes:
1) "[it] seemed to him only to emphasize that the political unawareness of all those in Hungary whose self-indulgence, preoccupation only with such internal issues as affected themselves, and whose self-centered conviction that only such trivial matters were of the smallest significance, was leading his country to isolation and ruin."
2) "It did not matter who or what it was but there was always something for whose sake one must accept the sorrow and bear it with fortitude, for that someone or something had no other person to whom to turn. Even the profoundest mourning had its compensations."
On a practical note, this second book was much more political than the first of Bánffy's Transylvania Trilogy. It made me realize how little I know about pre-WW1 Europe. I paused my reading for a bit in order to study enough history to have a context for what was going on. Especially helpful was "40 maps that explain World War 1" on vox.com as a place to start. The novel assumes a much greater base of understanding than I still have, but doing some research really helped.
Quotes:
1) "[it] seemed to him only to emphasize that the political unawareness of all those in Hungary whose self-indulgence, preoccupation only with such internal issues as affected themselves, and whose self-centered conviction that only such trivial matters were of the smallest significance, was leading his country to isolation and ruin."
2) "It did not matter who or what it was but there was always something for whose sake one must accept the sorrow and bear it with fortitude, for that someone or something had no other person to whom to turn. Even the profoundest mourning had its compensations."
On a practical note, this second book was much more political than the first of Bánffy's Transylvania Trilogy. It made me realize how little I know about pre-WW1 Europe. I paused my reading for a bit in order to study enough history to have a context for what was going on. Especially helpful was "40 maps that explain World War 1" on vox.com as a place to start. The novel assumes a much greater base of understanding than I still have, but doing some research really helped.
June 15, 2015
The storm clouds of war start to gather above Europe in the second part of Miklos Banffy's Transylvanian Trilogy, set in the sunset years of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the years before WWI. Austria-Hungary's annexation of Bosnia-Herzogovina in 1908 causes an international crisis, and whilst war is averted the novel's hero, Count Balint Abady, worries about the future of his country as the developing alliances between Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Serbia and Romania threaten to leave Austria-Hungary and Germany encircled by enemies. His colleagues in the Hungarian Parliament remain oblivious to the threat, becoming ever more obsessed with party political point-scoring and the minutiae of Hungary's relationship with Austria. Balint's personal life is stormy too, as his continuing relationship with the married Adrienne Uzdy causes a rift between Balint and his domineering mother. Meanwhile his cousin and close friend Laszlo Gyeroffy continues his self-destructive path. Having bankrupted himself through his gambling addiction, he turns to the bottle for solace.
This second part to the trilogy continues the high standards set in the first novel, although some of the chapters featuring the political machinations within the Hungarian Parliament were a bit of a struggle. As before, the novel paints a rich and beautiful portrait of the aristocracy of pre-WWI Central Europe.
This second part to the trilogy continues the high standards set in the first novel, although some of the chapters featuring the political machinations within the Hungarian Parliament were a bit of a struggle. As before, the novel paints a rich and beautiful portrait of the aristocracy of pre-WWI Central Europe.
November 18, 2011
Wonderful novel - second after They Were Counted - Balint and Adrienne finally decide to go public and despite that Adrienne's husband was considered crazy and dangerous, ask for a divorce; things happen though
Laszlo also continues his 'fall" away from aristocracy and the world still knocks on the door on the blindly going towards oblivion aristocracy
A superb middle novel that one cannot put down
Laszlo also continues his 'fall" away from aristocracy and the world still knocks on the door on the blindly going towards oblivion aristocracy
A superb middle novel that one cannot put down
February 9, 2021
A wonderful continuation of the story begun in They Were Counted. The family saga continues to rivet one's attention. The storms of Europe are darkening and war is on the horizon....but the Hungarians don't seem to notice. Their lavish lifestyle and customs continue. Parliament argues about banking but don't seem to see what's happening in Europe & how that will affect Hungary.
The characters in this series are sympathetic and real. Their situations, problems and conversations seem true. The entire story falls together nicely. I want to know what happens to these people in the next volume; to find out where their lives are taking them. I felt the same after finished They Were Counted. This book drew me yet deeper into the lives of these people.
This is truly a lost gem of a story and I look forward to continuing with the final book, They Were Divided. I'm surprised that this isn't a more well-known work. It's truly a gem.
The characters in this series are sympathetic and real. Their situations, problems and conversations seem true. The entire story falls together nicely. I want to know what happens to these people in the next volume; to find out where their lives are taking them. I felt the same after finished They Were Counted. This book drew me yet deeper into the lives of these people.
This is truly a lost gem of a story and I look forward to continuing with the final book, They Were Divided. I'm surprised that this isn't a more well-known work. It's truly a gem.
September 12, 2020
Though listed as the second book in the Transylvanian Trilogy, They Were Found Wanting is simply a continuation of They Were Numbered and cannot be read as a standalone. We move ahead to 1911, on the eve of the Balkan Wars. The Parliament in Hungary continue be preoccupied with their own resentments against Austria, apparently oblivious to the fragility of their control over their own minorities, Romanians, Croats, Slovenes, and Slovaks, apparently unaware that once the Habsburg empire begins to disintigrate, the Kingdom of Hungary will inevitably suffer extreme losses as well. Count Balint Abady's affair with Countess Addy Uzdy also continues unresolved. I would have been frustrated at the slow pace of events, both political and personal, except for two wonderful episodes involving hares, a shoot at a palace in Slovakia and a marvellous hunt in Transylvania worth of comparison with Anthony Trollope at his best. Given the extreme anglophilia of the Hungarian aristocracy, it was most appropriate. How long can I resist devouring the final volume?
January 13, 2019
I must be the only reader who is equally or maybe even more fascinated by the political chapters as by the love stories and descriptions of aristocratic lifestyle in 1908 or thereabouts. The long period of brewing resentments and growing nationalistic sentiments which led to the First World War is described so well - and the love for Transylvania is so evident.
March 28, 2020
More of this immaculately written masterpiece, following on from Vol.1 "They Were Counted". Marking down slightly cos it did feel a bit "more of the same" and we've still got Vol.3 to go - maybe would be better to just rate the whole trilogy with one rating after I finish the whole thing...
June 23, 2019
The second book was much more political than the first and I was glad to learn about the reasons behind WWI. Especially Hungary's peculiar situation in the Monarchy, but above all the developments and the neglect of the minorities, like Transylvania or even fully established sates like Serbia - this all I guessed, but did not know the details. Monarchy was, obviously not the right state for anyone, except perhaps the Habsburgs. No, thank you.
Balint Abady is now a grown-up, not only in his political carrier, but also as a lover to the beautiful Adrienne. Or so he thinks. His plans did not worked out as he wished and at some time it looked liked there will never be a happy ending for him and his lady.
I am looking forward to read Part III.
Balint Abady is now a grown-up, not only in his political carrier, but also as a lover to the beautiful Adrienne. Or so he thinks. His plans did not worked out as he wished and at some time it looked liked there will never be a happy ending for him and his lady.
I am looking forward to read Part III.
October 18, 2018
The second book of this trilogy is even better than the first one. Not only is there more emotional depth, but the political setting and background (arms race, Bosnian crisis...) is broader, more international and thus more interesting.
Read
September 1, 2013More politics which also means more bathos and hideous hindsight. A truly brilliant look at a vanished era before WWI.
September 1, 2019
Reading this trilogy is a thorough-going affair, but it's worth the time and effort. I'm looking forward to seeing how all of these narrative threads are resolved in the third volume.
February 7, 2019
Pride and Precipices
or All's Not Fair in Love and War
or Laszlo, *Mate*
or All's Not Fair in Love and War
or Laszlo, *Mate*
December 18, 2022
I enjoyed the second book of the trilogy as much as the first.
April 17, 2024
Met uw welnemen.
May 18, 2023
"Te licht bevonden" is het tweede deel van de Transsylvanische trilogie, waarin de Hongaar Miklós Bánffy de oneindig geschakeerde wereld van Roemenië beschreef, toen het nog Transsylvanië heette en onderdeel was van het koninkrijk Hongarije en van de immense Oostenrijks- Hongaarse dubbelmonarchie. En ook de schitteringen en nakende ondergang van het koninkrijk Hongarije krijgt in deze trilogie alle aandacht. Ik vond dit tweede deel even intrigerend als het fraaie "Geteld, geteld", dat ik kort hiervoor las. Ook hier met dank aan het soepele Nederlands en het informatieve nawoord van vertaalster Rebekka Hermán Mostert. En het anekdotische en sfeervolle voorwoord van Jaap Scholten vind ik eveneens vermeldenswaard.
De trilogie speelt in de jaren tussen 1905 en 1914, de periode waarin de Oostenrijks- Hongaarse dubbelmonarchie volop bloeide maar ook in rap tempo zijn ondergang tegemoet ging. Want in WO I zou alles waar de Hongaarse aristocraat Bánffy zo van hield volkomen worden worden weggevaagd, en niemand zag die ramp aankomen. Bánffy schreef deze trilogie, deze imponerende lofzang en klaagzang over een verdwenen wereld, bovendien in de jaren dertig. Dus toen hij de tekenen zag van een nieuwe naderende wereldoorlog. De somberheid over dat alles is in "Te licht bevonden" nog sterker dan hij in "Geteld, geteld" al was. De enorm uitgesponnen beschrijvingen van loze en moreel failliete politieke verwikkelingen zijn nog schrijnender en karikaturaler, de zo felle glans en kleurenrijkdom van de verdwenen wereld van weleer staat nog sterker in het teken van onafwendbare ondergang, en de toon is vaak nog desolater en wanhopiger. Ook zijn er meer bijtend- satirische passages over Hongaarse politici, zoals: "De grote Barra opende zijn reusachtige mond, die bijna breder was dan zijn gezicht, misschien door alle woorden die hij in zijn leven gesproken had. Het leek alsof die mond zijn eigen leven leefde, daar halverwege tussen snor en onderkin". En naast de vele jubelende passages over natuurpracht die we in "Geteld, geteld" ook al zo vaak zagen, zijn er "Te licht bevonden" meer natuurobservaties vol duistere doem. Bijvoorbeeld: "Er was niets van het landschap te zien in de maanloze nacht. Alles was donker, stikdonker. Alleen de miljarden sterren stonden als stipjes aan de hemel. Onveranderlijke sterren, die sinds miljoenen jaren onaangedaan op de ellende van de mensheid neerkeken. Hun geheimzinnige schrifttekens werden echter door niemand gelezen, terwijl oude wijzen al lang geleden hadden gezegd dat het lot van mensen, volken en werelddelen daar was opgetekend". Een vrij stemmige mijmering, vol van onheilsbesef, van fatalisme (alleen al door die onaangedaanheid van de miljarden sterren), en van droefenis omdat niemand het onheil ziet aankomen. Juist dat onheilsbesef is op dit moment voor het eerst echt doorgedrongen tot Bálint Abády, de hoofdpersoon van deze trilogie. En dat besef wordt in "Te licht bevonden" almaar sterker en prangender, ook al is Bálint vaak vooral bezig met zijn even intense als hopeloze passie voor de mysterieuze, maar ook getrouwde Adrienne.
Die passie nu wordt ook in "Te licht bevonden" weer fraai en meeslepend op papier gezet. Ondanks alle omringende ellende en onheil. Zie bijvoorbeeld de volgende zinnen, waarin Adrienne en Bálint elkaar aantreffen in een dicht woud, vlak bij de oude boom die voor beiden het symbool is van hun clandestiene liefde: "Daar was hij, de reuzenbeuk, de grote oude grijsaard. Op nauwelijks twintig meter! Hij stond alleen, zijn duifgrijze stam leek een toren. De zijwaarts uitgestoken wortels waren omkleed met fluwelen mos. Tussen die boomwortels, tegen de stam geleund, stond een vrouw. Haar grijze jurk ging op in het grauw van de boomschors. Alleen haar gezicht lichtte op uit de schaduw, haar donkere haar tegen de achtergrond van het duifgrijs. Ze stond onbeweeglijk stil. Haar wijd geopende barnsteenkleurige ogen keken hem recht aan, met een blik alsof ze een visioen zag. Zij was, het Adrienne! Daar stond ze, met de boom versmolten, alsof ze op hem had gewacht!". Voor sommigen zal dit al te geëxalteerd zijn, en te sentimenteel, maar mij bevalt dit wel. Ik vind het namelijk wel mooi hoe Bálint geleidelijk aan de vormen van Adrienne ziet ontstaan uit een boom waarmee zij versmolten lijkt, en hoe hijzelf voor Adrienne zichtbaar wordt als in een visioen. Alsof zij elkaar alleen als boven de realiteit uitstijgende visioenen kunnen zien. Alsof het elkaar zien elke keer weer een soort ontdekking is van een in hogere sferen zwevend droombeeld dat zich maar langzaam onthult. Alsof hun passie te intens is om te kunnen worden gevat in duidelijke woorden, begrippen en beelden. Dat komt ook naar voren in diverse intense natuurervaringen van Bálint, waarin de natuur zich voor hem ontvouwt in taferelen vol van bovenaardse tover en schoonheid, en waarin hij juist in zijn ademloze vervoering daarover ook extra gevoelig wordt voor Adriennes zo mysterieuze en onbevattelijke schoonheid. En ook de aan alle woorden ontstijgende intensiteit van hun passie spreekt boekdelen: "Dorstige lippen vonden elkaar in een onstuimige kus, knellende armen als vaste schakels, zoekende handen als schrammende klauwen, meegesleurd door een storm van verlangen, het onderdrukte, verstomde verlangen, de oerkracht die als een aardbeving alles wegvaagt wat op zijn pad komt, een onuitsprekelijke kracht die verheft en al het andere verdrijft. Ze zeiden geen woord, maar ze noemden slechts stamelend elkaars naam, tussen de gretige rijkdom van hun kussen door, en vielen tuimelend neer op het zachte tapijt van bos en lommer, in elkaar verstrengeld en neergeworpen door hun hartstocht die als door een bliksemschicht was ontbrand...".
De liefde tussen Adrienne en Bálint is hopeloos, omdat Adrienne getrouwd is en redenen heeft haar man - de satanische, en naar nu blijkt ook ronduit waanzinnige Uzdy- te vrezen. Maar juist die hopeloosheid lijkt de passie nog te versterken. Juist de onmogelijkheid lijkt het toch al vlammende verlangen nog verder aan te wakkeren. En dat verlangen culmineert in steeds intensere dromen over een zoon die uit hun liefde zou worden geboren. Dat is niet zomaar een gedroomde liefdesbaby, maar de vurig verhoopte inlossing van al hun verlangens en dromen. Wat misschien ook te maken heeft met het buitenechtelijke gehalte van hun passie: hun liefde is volgens de conventies verboden en onmogelijk, maar daarmee ontstijgt hun liefde naar hun gevoel ook de conventies, en exact dat voedt wellicht juist de idealiserende dromen over een uit hun liefde ontspruitende zoon. Voor Bálint personifieert die zoon ook nog eens een voortzetting van zijn eigen aristocratische geslacht, de garantie dat zijn adellijke familie met al zijn hogere idealen ook in de toekomst zal voortleven. Sterker nog, Bálint en Adrienne zien die zoon soms zelfs als het bijna ondenkbare nieuwe begin van een nieuwe mensheid: "[H]et kind dat uit hen tweeën geboren zou worden: hoe zou het eruitzien? Welke kenmerken zou het erven van hem, en welke trekken van haar? Ze fluisterde haar vragen in zijn oor, door ontelbare kussen onderbroken in het fluwelen duister van de kamer; ze bevonden zich in een feeërieke sprookjeswereld met in het midden een onwerkelijk werkelijk wezen, geboren uit dromen en verlangens, een kleine baby die een jongen werd, daarna een jonge man, en het volgende ogenblik weer een spartelende zuigeling, zijn blote lijfje een roze wonder... Ze hadden zelfs al een naam voor hem. Hij zou Adám gedoopt worden, als de eerste mens van een nieuwe mensheid, een volmaakte mensensoort die nog nooit had bestaan - net als Euphorion, in de Faust van Goethe". Het is natuurlijk wel wrang dat Adrienne en Bálint dit soort utopische en onwerkelijk- intense dromen hebben, en in een gedroomde "feeërieke sprookjeswereld" verwijlen terwijl de wereld onafwendbaar afstevent op de Eerste Wereldoorlog. De droom zal bovendien naar de smaak van veel lezers sowieso wat al te suikerzoet, sentimenteel en hooggestemd zijn. Maar ik vind een dergelijke onmogelijke hoop in zulke onmogelijke tijden juist ontroerend. Wellicht is dit zelfs troostrijk: een bewijs dat het ook in roerige en van doem vergeven tijden mogelijk is om zulke intense en idealiserende dromen te koesteren, en om zo vurig en vol idealen te hopen. En om dat zo vol snakkend verlangen te doen, tegen al het gezonde verstand in, met zo'n ademloze intensiteit. Al blijft het natuurlijk enorm tragisch dat deze zo ongeremd hoopvolle droom op niets lijkt uit te lopen........
De meeslepende passie tussen Adrienne en Bálint was weer een feest om te lezen, ook in dit tweede deel. Veel liefdesscènes zijn weliswaar van een sentimentaliteit die normaal gesproken het glazuur van mijn tanden spontaan doet breken, en daar hou ik eigenlijk totaal niet van. Maar om de een of andere reden pakt de sentimentaliteit en geëxalteerdheid van Bánffy mij juist helemaal in. En bovendien heeft deze roman nog veel meer te bieden, net als "Geteld, geteld". Want ook in "Te licht bevonden" komen we weer veel verschillende personages tegen, die allemaal op heel onderhoudende en kleurrijke wijze voor het voetlicht worden gebracht. De kleding en de gedragingen van al die personages worden bijvoorbeeld tot in detail beschreven, ook als die personages er voor de plot weinig toe doen. Dat leidt soms wel af van het verhaal, maar het levert veel fraaie portretten op: zelfs corrupte advocaten of een waanzinnig en satanisch personage als Uzdy komen daardoor fraai tot leven, zelfs een totaal norse bijfiguur blijkt ineens over een ontroerend rijk gevoelsleven en muzikaal talent te beschikken, zelfs een ogenschijnlijk ondoorgrondelijke wereldreiziger in ruste blijkt ineens vol te zijn van bijna Oosterse levenswijsheid en van aanstekelijke berusting in het onvermijdelijke, zelfs een mislukte uitvinder van vliegmachines blijkt ineens een heel boeiende belichaming te zijn van de Hongaarse volksaard. En dan heb ik het nog niet eens over de spectaculaire ondergang en zelfvernietiging van enkele personages, en van hun soms bijna Dostojevskiaanse worstelingen met de eigen innerlijke gespletenheid. Ook fascinerend is bovendien de bevlogen beschrijving van enkele Hongaarse kosmopolitische geesten, die op wel heel inspirerende wijze in contrast staan met het benepen provincialisme in de toenmalige pers en politiek. Al die beschrijvingen bij elkaar leiden bovendien tot een opmerkelijk rijk, gevarieerd en caleidoscopisch beeld. Dat laatste is sowieso kenmerkend voor deze roman: ook natuurtaferelen, feesten, bals, diners, tuinen, kamers, schilderijen, paleizen en huizen worden in "Te licht bevonden" immers opmerkelijk minutieus beschreven, waardoor de roman nog caleidoscopischer wordt en nog rijker aan details. Juist dat caleidoscopische, gevarieerde en gedetailleerde gehalte onderstreept op meeslepende wijze de inzet van Bánffy: het in al zijn facetten schilderen en voelbaar maken van een inmiddels verdwenen wereld, in al zijn glorie en tragiek. En in het gedetailleerd schilderen van die inmiddels voorbije en altijd al gedoemde pracht is Bánffy naar mijn smaak echt weergaloos. Waardoor een tijdsbeeld ontstaat dat voor een historicus vast erg interessant is, en dat hedonistische lezers als mijzelf helemaal meesleept door zijn schoonheid.
Ook het tweede deel van deze Transsylvanische trilogie vond ik kortom weer helemaal prima. En ik wil graag nog meer vernemen over deze vergeten, wonderlijke en voor mij onbekende Transsylvanische wereld. Dus ga ik nu meteen verder met "Uiteengescheurd", het derde en afsluitende deel.
De trilogie speelt in de jaren tussen 1905 en 1914, de periode waarin de Oostenrijks- Hongaarse dubbelmonarchie volop bloeide maar ook in rap tempo zijn ondergang tegemoet ging. Want in WO I zou alles waar de Hongaarse aristocraat Bánffy zo van hield volkomen worden worden weggevaagd, en niemand zag die ramp aankomen. Bánffy schreef deze trilogie, deze imponerende lofzang en klaagzang over een verdwenen wereld, bovendien in de jaren dertig. Dus toen hij de tekenen zag van een nieuwe naderende wereldoorlog. De somberheid over dat alles is in "Te licht bevonden" nog sterker dan hij in "Geteld, geteld" al was. De enorm uitgesponnen beschrijvingen van loze en moreel failliete politieke verwikkelingen zijn nog schrijnender en karikaturaler, de zo felle glans en kleurenrijkdom van de verdwenen wereld van weleer staat nog sterker in het teken van onafwendbare ondergang, en de toon is vaak nog desolater en wanhopiger. Ook zijn er meer bijtend- satirische passages over Hongaarse politici, zoals: "De grote Barra opende zijn reusachtige mond, die bijna breder was dan zijn gezicht, misschien door alle woorden die hij in zijn leven gesproken had. Het leek alsof die mond zijn eigen leven leefde, daar halverwege tussen snor en onderkin". En naast de vele jubelende passages over natuurpracht die we in "Geteld, geteld" ook al zo vaak zagen, zijn er "Te licht bevonden" meer natuurobservaties vol duistere doem. Bijvoorbeeld: "Er was niets van het landschap te zien in de maanloze nacht. Alles was donker, stikdonker. Alleen de miljarden sterren stonden als stipjes aan de hemel. Onveranderlijke sterren, die sinds miljoenen jaren onaangedaan op de ellende van de mensheid neerkeken. Hun geheimzinnige schrifttekens werden echter door niemand gelezen, terwijl oude wijzen al lang geleden hadden gezegd dat het lot van mensen, volken en werelddelen daar was opgetekend". Een vrij stemmige mijmering, vol van onheilsbesef, van fatalisme (alleen al door die onaangedaanheid van de miljarden sterren), en van droefenis omdat niemand het onheil ziet aankomen. Juist dat onheilsbesef is op dit moment voor het eerst echt doorgedrongen tot Bálint Abády, de hoofdpersoon van deze trilogie. En dat besef wordt in "Te licht bevonden" almaar sterker en prangender, ook al is Bálint vaak vooral bezig met zijn even intense als hopeloze passie voor de mysterieuze, maar ook getrouwde Adrienne.
Die passie nu wordt ook in "Te licht bevonden" weer fraai en meeslepend op papier gezet. Ondanks alle omringende ellende en onheil. Zie bijvoorbeeld de volgende zinnen, waarin Adrienne en Bálint elkaar aantreffen in een dicht woud, vlak bij de oude boom die voor beiden het symbool is van hun clandestiene liefde: "Daar was hij, de reuzenbeuk, de grote oude grijsaard. Op nauwelijks twintig meter! Hij stond alleen, zijn duifgrijze stam leek een toren. De zijwaarts uitgestoken wortels waren omkleed met fluwelen mos. Tussen die boomwortels, tegen de stam geleund, stond een vrouw. Haar grijze jurk ging op in het grauw van de boomschors. Alleen haar gezicht lichtte op uit de schaduw, haar donkere haar tegen de achtergrond van het duifgrijs. Ze stond onbeweeglijk stil. Haar wijd geopende barnsteenkleurige ogen keken hem recht aan, met een blik alsof ze een visioen zag. Zij was, het Adrienne! Daar stond ze, met de boom versmolten, alsof ze op hem had gewacht!". Voor sommigen zal dit al te geëxalteerd zijn, en te sentimenteel, maar mij bevalt dit wel. Ik vind het namelijk wel mooi hoe Bálint geleidelijk aan de vormen van Adrienne ziet ontstaan uit een boom waarmee zij versmolten lijkt, en hoe hijzelf voor Adrienne zichtbaar wordt als in een visioen. Alsof zij elkaar alleen als boven de realiteit uitstijgende visioenen kunnen zien. Alsof het elkaar zien elke keer weer een soort ontdekking is van een in hogere sferen zwevend droombeeld dat zich maar langzaam onthult. Alsof hun passie te intens is om te kunnen worden gevat in duidelijke woorden, begrippen en beelden. Dat komt ook naar voren in diverse intense natuurervaringen van Bálint, waarin de natuur zich voor hem ontvouwt in taferelen vol van bovenaardse tover en schoonheid, en waarin hij juist in zijn ademloze vervoering daarover ook extra gevoelig wordt voor Adriennes zo mysterieuze en onbevattelijke schoonheid. En ook de aan alle woorden ontstijgende intensiteit van hun passie spreekt boekdelen: "Dorstige lippen vonden elkaar in een onstuimige kus, knellende armen als vaste schakels, zoekende handen als schrammende klauwen, meegesleurd door een storm van verlangen, het onderdrukte, verstomde verlangen, de oerkracht die als een aardbeving alles wegvaagt wat op zijn pad komt, een onuitsprekelijke kracht die verheft en al het andere verdrijft. Ze zeiden geen woord, maar ze noemden slechts stamelend elkaars naam, tussen de gretige rijkdom van hun kussen door, en vielen tuimelend neer op het zachte tapijt van bos en lommer, in elkaar verstrengeld en neergeworpen door hun hartstocht die als door een bliksemschicht was ontbrand...".
De liefde tussen Adrienne en Bálint is hopeloos, omdat Adrienne getrouwd is en redenen heeft haar man - de satanische, en naar nu blijkt ook ronduit waanzinnige Uzdy- te vrezen. Maar juist die hopeloosheid lijkt de passie nog te versterken. Juist de onmogelijkheid lijkt het toch al vlammende verlangen nog verder aan te wakkeren. En dat verlangen culmineert in steeds intensere dromen over een zoon die uit hun liefde zou worden geboren. Dat is niet zomaar een gedroomde liefdesbaby, maar de vurig verhoopte inlossing van al hun verlangens en dromen. Wat misschien ook te maken heeft met het buitenechtelijke gehalte van hun passie: hun liefde is volgens de conventies verboden en onmogelijk, maar daarmee ontstijgt hun liefde naar hun gevoel ook de conventies, en exact dat voedt wellicht juist de idealiserende dromen over een uit hun liefde ontspruitende zoon. Voor Bálint personifieert die zoon ook nog eens een voortzetting van zijn eigen aristocratische geslacht, de garantie dat zijn adellijke familie met al zijn hogere idealen ook in de toekomst zal voortleven. Sterker nog, Bálint en Adrienne zien die zoon soms zelfs als het bijna ondenkbare nieuwe begin van een nieuwe mensheid: "[H]et kind dat uit hen tweeën geboren zou worden: hoe zou het eruitzien? Welke kenmerken zou het erven van hem, en welke trekken van haar? Ze fluisterde haar vragen in zijn oor, door ontelbare kussen onderbroken in het fluwelen duister van de kamer; ze bevonden zich in een feeërieke sprookjeswereld met in het midden een onwerkelijk werkelijk wezen, geboren uit dromen en verlangens, een kleine baby die een jongen werd, daarna een jonge man, en het volgende ogenblik weer een spartelende zuigeling, zijn blote lijfje een roze wonder... Ze hadden zelfs al een naam voor hem. Hij zou Adám gedoopt worden, als de eerste mens van een nieuwe mensheid, een volmaakte mensensoort die nog nooit had bestaan - net als Euphorion, in de Faust van Goethe". Het is natuurlijk wel wrang dat Adrienne en Bálint dit soort utopische en onwerkelijk- intense dromen hebben, en in een gedroomde "feeërieke sprookjeswereld" verwijlen terwijl de wereld onafwendbaar afstevent op de Eerste Wereldoorlog. De droom zal bovendien naar de smaak van veel lezers sowieso wat al te suikerzoet, sentimenteel en hooggestemd zijn. Maar ik vind een dergelijke onmogelijke hoop in zulke onmogelijke tijden juist ontroerend. Wellicht is dit zelfs troostrijk: een bewijs dat het ook in roerige en van doem vergeven tijden mogelijk is om zulke intense en idealiserende dromen te koesteren, en om zo vurig en vol idealen te hopen. En om dat zo vol snakkend verlangen te doen, tegen al het gezonde verstand in, met zo'n ademloze intensiteit. Al blijft het natuurlijk enorm tragisch dat deze zo ongeremd hoopvolle droom op niets lijkt uit te lopen........
De meeslepende passie tussen Adrienne en Bálint was weer een feest om te lezen, ook in dit tweede deel. Veel liefdesscènes zijn weliswaar van een sentimentaliteit die normaal gesproken het glazuur van mijn tanden spontaan doet breken, en daar hou ik eigenlijk totaal niet van. Maar om de een of andere reden pakt de sentimentaliteit en geëxalteerdheid van Bánffy mij juist helemaal in. En bovendien heeft deze roman nog veel meer te bieden, net als "Geteld, geteld". Want ook in "Te licht bevonden" komen we weer veel verschillende personages tegen, die allemaal op heel onderhoudende en kleurrijke wijze voor het voetlicht worden gebracht. De kleding en de gedragingen van al die personages worden bijvoorbeeld tot in detail beschreven, ook als die personages er voor de plot weinig toe doen. Dat leidt soms wel af van het verhaal, maar het levert veel fraaie portretten op: zelfs corrupte advocaten of een waanzinnig en satanisch personage als Uzdy komen daardoor fraai tot leven, zelfs een totaal norse bijfiguur blijkt ineens over een ontroerend rijk gevoelsleven en muzikaal talent te beschikken, zelfs een ogenschijnlijk ondoorgrondelijke wereldreiziger in ruste blijkt ineens vol te zijn van bijna Oosterse levenswijsheid en van aanstekelijke berusting in het onvermijdelijke, zelfs een mislukte uitvinder van vliegmachines blijkt ineens een heel boeiende belichaming te zijn van de Hongaarse volksaard. En dan heb ik het nog niet eens over de spectaculaire ondergang en zelfvernietiging van enkele personages, en van hun soms bijna Dostojevskiaanse worstelingen met de eigen innerlijke gespletenheid. Ook fascinerend is bovendien de bevlogen beschrijving van enkele Hongaarse kosmopolitische geesten, die op wel heel inspirerende wijze in contrast staan met het benepen provincialisme in de toenmalige pers en politiek. Al die beschrijvingen bij elkaar leiden bovendien tot een opmerkelijk rijk, gevarieerd en caleidoscopisch beeld. Dat laatste is sowieso kenmerkend voor deze roman: ook natuurtaferelen, feesten, bals, diners, tuinen, kamers, schilderijen, paleizen en huizen worden in "Te licht bevonden" immers opmerkelijk minutieus beschreven, waardoor de roman nog caleidoscopischer wordt en nog rijker aan details. Juist dat caleidoscopische, gevarieerde en gedetailleerde gehalte onderstreept op meeslepende wijze de inzet van Bánffy: het in al zijn facetten schilderen en voelbaar maken van een inmiddels verdwenen wereld, in al zijn glorie en tragiek. En in het gedetailleerd schilderen van die inmiddels voorbije en altijd al gedoemde pracht is Bánffy naar mijn smaak echt weergaloos. Waardoor een tijdsbeeld ontstaat dat voor een historicus vast erg interessant is, en dat hedonistische lezers als mijzelf helemaal meesleept door zijn schoonheid.
Ook het tweede deel van deze Transsylvanische trilogie vond ik kortom weer helemaal prima. En ik wil graag nog meer vernemen over deze vergeten, wonderlijke en voor mij onbekende Transsylvanische wereld. Dus ga ik nu meteen verder met "Uiteengescheurd", het derde en afsluitende deel.
February 24, 2020
4.5 found starz for this lavishly written chronicle of an eventful and tragic age> the dying Belle Epoque and the prelude to the First World War.
We encounter here some of the same incredible roster of characters that populated the first volume of the Transylvanian Trilogy, and a couple of notable additions. MB may have known his politics, but the intricacy of inner details, the finesse of the psychological characterization, the complexity of even minor characters, these are the marks of a master writer.
But more of this, I guess we shall learn in the next volume. Those cliffhangers!!! Although first published during the 1930s, this book is more contemporary than I would have thought.
We encounter here some of the same incredible roster of characters that populated the first volume of the Transylvanian Trilogy, and a couple of notable additions. MB may have known his politics, but the intricacy of inner details, the finesse of the psychological characterization, the complexity of even minor characters, these are the marks of a master writer.
But more of this, I guess we shall learn in the next volume. Those cliffhangers!!! Although first published during the 1930s, this book is more contemporary than I would have thought.
October 9, 2018
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?
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?
March 16, 2012
Book two of Banffy's Transylvanian trilogy continues the page turning 19-th C story of pre-WWI life of Count Balint and his loves and losses. Describing these books isn't easy because on many levels - they are completely similar to Tolstoy or slightly-less dense Stendhal but there's much more than that to appreciate in Banffy's skilled writing. Readers of Turgenev will easily enjoy Banffy's elaborate description of the hunts led by heart or hound. A colorful palette of regional description that at times works as travel-fiction brings a beautiful light to the setting. The characters are richly drawn, complex, flawed and somehow always addictively engaging. The character studies work much like those in fellow Hungarian Bela Tarr's Outsiders: desultory oddities who you can't stop watching because they will certainly reward the attention of the discerning and patient. Tarr's Adras (played to perfection by Andras Szabo) is the post-communist Laszlo Gyeroffy - playing the most achingly beautiful music for an ever-less significant crowd of unworthy tipplers while death harmonizes in the background as in the famous Arnold Bocklin self-portrait. Love, war, death and insanity all unfold in a stunning display of detail that somehow never bogs down. Gently hovering over the detail is the guiding vision of a writer that knows life is best lived when writing. Balint only feels alive when he's feeling in love - and that feeling often occurs outside the presence of his bride to never be. His actually interactions often end in frustration. When he's free to guide his thoughts the blissful peace of nature - he's most alive. There's something of Stifter's reverence of the indifferent and beautiful will of nature here as well as a long hunt scene ends when the hare dies of its own will - giving beauty to those attentive enough to receive their lesson. There is humor, wisdom, a touching reverence of nature and life itself that is displayed with a clear and intelligent prose that should make this work better known. Onto part three....but not before stocking up on some Bull's Blood (red wine) from the Hungarian deli
June 17, 2015
The second book in the Transylvanian Trilogy opens with hard-boiled political intrigue. There are deliberations, and secret pacts, and customs contracts and- Ok, maybe this isn't my idea of an exciting lead-in to a novel, but the fact that Banffy gets me to sit through it at all speaks volume to his storytelling ability. In fact, I credit him with awakening my interest in politics- even if it's as of yet quite modest. And even though I can barely keep up with all the machinations that the author is laying bare, it makes me appreciate the complex and volatile situation brewing in the Empire, and makes the shadow of the coming war loom even darker.
In the second chapter we quickly move on to a lively scene depicting the Hungarian custom of the serenade. And there the story starts to shine for me, and doesn't stop until the I close the very last page. Once again I'm transported to this beautiful vanished world filled with almost faery-like characters, for how strange, dashing and oblivious some of their actions and motives are. And yet I know them, feel them, grieve for them. Banffy makes me believe in their naive dreams and desperate hopes, in their doomed love and dejected self-destruction...
When I start to wax lyrical like this, it's a good sign that this series is doing my head in. I finished this book while on a trip to England, and couldn't bring myself to write about it for at least a month afterwards. Even as I turned the pages, eager to find out what happened next, it was with apprehension, and a growing tightness in my chest. Because none of this can end well- it's written between every line. And because of that, I almost don't want to reach the end...
Content-wise, the second book is not quite as thrilling or dramatic as the first, but I give it five stars nonetheless.
In the second chapter we quickly move on to a lively scene depicting the Hungarian custom of the serenade. And there the story starts to shine for me, and doesn't stop until the I close the very last page. Once again I'm transported to this beautiful vanished world filled with almost faery-like characters, for how strange, dashing and oblivious some of their actions and motives are. And yet I know them, feel them, grieve for them. Banffy makes me believe in their naive dreams and desperate hopes, in their doomed love and dejected self-destruction...
When I start to wax lyrical like this, it's a good sign that this series is doing my head in. I finished this book while on a trip to England, and couldn't bring myself to write about it for at least a month afterwards. Even as I turned the pages, eager to find out what happened next, it was with apprehension, and a growing tightness in my chest. Because none of this can end well- it's written between every line. And because of that, I almost don't want to reach the end...
Content-wise, the second book is not quite as thrilling or dramatic as the first, but I give it five stars nonetheless.
February 15, 2011
"Beneath their feet the dust of the forest floor rose as they walked, and to Adrienne it was as if they floated weightless over clouds of heavenly vapour, returning unharmed from the gates of Hell, ready no to defy the whole wide world." (p 76)
This second volume of The Transylvanian Trilogy is an historical novel with romance at its core. As Patrick Leigh Fermor, the famous travel writer, said: "Banffy is a born story-teller." But the story is merely the starting point for Banffy's extended romance of family, class and political relationships which mirrors the on-going upheaval in Hungarian society as it existed before the Great War. Banffy's novel compares favorably with epics like War and Peace and great family tales like The Forsyte Saga. I appreciated the breadth of his literary and cultural references, for this is a story about a class that is as familiar with Chopin and Goethe as they are with the boudoir. The contrast of the power and beauty of nature, descriptions of the lands and forests surrounding the magnificent castles, punctuated with scenes of hunting and brilliant bazaars, thrilled me as a reader. Banffy is able to build suspense within the political realm where scenes range from the legislature to councils of war while maintaining the intriguing intimacies of the lead characters, Balint Abady and Laszlo Gyeroffy. The trilogy is one of the least well-known novels of Eastern Europe at the end era limned by Barbara Tuchman with the title of her history, "The Proud Tower".
This second volume of The Transylvanian Trilogy is an historical novel with romance at its core. As Patrick Leigh Fermor, the famous travel writer, said: "Banffy is a born story-teller." But the story is merely the starting point for Banffy's extended romance of family, class and political relationships which mirrors the on-going upheaval in Hungarian society as it existed before the Great War. Banffy's novel compares favorably with epics like War and Peace and great family tales like The Forsyte Saga. I appreciated the breadth of his literary and cultural references, for this is a story about a class that is as familiar with Chopin and Goethe as they are with the boudoir. The contrast of the power and beauty of nature, descriptions of the lands and forests surrounding the magnificent castles, punctuated with scenes of hunting and brilliant bazaars, thrilled me as a reader. Banffy is able to build suspense within the political realm where scenes range from the legislature to councils of war while maintaining the intriguing intimacies of the lead characters, Balint Abady and Laszlo Gyeroffy. The trilogy is one of the least well-known novels of Eastern Europe at the end era limned by Barbara Tuchman with the title of her history, "The Proud Tower".
February 23, 2019
Book number 2 of the Transylvanian Trilogy (or the Hungarian trilogy - as I call it to my friends!) has been conquered. This one took me a little while to complete, but I did truly want to enjoy it...so not attempting to rush through it. I wrote a pretty decent summary of this trilogy when I talked about book 1, so shan't repeat that. But this book(as I guess middle books of trilogies are wont to do?) got even more depressing...and the characters are not exactly in the best of places. Will things get better? I'm slightly worried that they may not, especially as the Great War looms even closer now. There was definitely a lot more focus on the European political atmosphere in this book...oh so tragic with hindsight. Oh so blind were oh so many. I am hoping that the characters somehow get to a better place in the third book though. We shall see? Balint, Adrienne, Laszlo...surely things can't get much worse. But I could most definitely be wrong. After I closed this book on a wonderfully emotional note, I wrote in my little notebook (for I knew I wouldn't log this for a few days, so wanted to jot my thoughts down while they were hot) the following: "What a wistful, melancholy end. Beautiful. Yet oh so sad." And there you go. Book 3 awaits. I may not read it for a bit though - want to savour this trilogy. I can only read a book for the first time once.
September 20, 2021
Some more grand balls, some more politics, some more family drama and kissing cousins, some more sexist musings on the role of women, some more cringy metaphors for sex, some more descriptions of rolling hills under the lilac mist - which I assume to mean "pale purple" rather than "all of this books happens in the two weeks when lilac bushes are in bloom". And more (or more noticeable?) moments when the narrator slips into "little did they know this would eventually lead to [historical event x years in the future from the moment of narration]"-isms. They kind of are good books, though, and I'm saying this despite myself.
May 14, 2016
The second part of the Transylvanian trilogy by Miklós Bánffy. The continuing story of the lives of the two Transylvanian cousins from They Were Counted, this novel parallels the lives of the counts Bálint Abády and László Gyeröffy to the political fate of their country. Packed full of the same detail and colour as the previous volume. I cannot wait to start the final volume.
June 10, 2018
The second novel of this trilogy is just as an enjoyable read as the first part. Banffy is a brilliant narrator and the story not only brings you a wonderful tale of life in Hungary at the beginning of last century but also a clear insight in the demise of the Austrian-Hungarian empire and the European troubles that lead to the first world war.
December 23, 2019
Still enjoying this trilogy and looking forward to the final volume. Unfortunately, it's going to have to wait a bit as I read Grossman's Stalingrad which the library will not let me renew.
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