Embers [Paperback]

As full of dramatic tension as anything written by Poe, this masterpiece of character development idealizes the personal values of a lost world, and celebrates the rewards and obligations of friendship. Henrik, a former Austro-Hungarian general and member of the aristocracy, is approaching the end of his life, having lived 75 years according to the "male virtues: silence, solitude, and the inviolability of one's word." He is awaiting a visit from Konrad, his former best friend, a man he has not seen or heard from in 41 years and 43 days, a man he believes betrayed him and upon whom he has yearned for revenge for more than half his life.

The simple narrative framework allows Henrik to tell the story through his own meditations and his one-sided conversation with Konrad after his arrival. Touching first on the lives and marriages of Henrik's parents, his wife's parents, and then Konrad's parents, Henrik slides obliquely and seductively into the story of his friendship with Konrad, his courtship of Krisztina, and the first four years of his own marriage. As tiny details emerge and build upon one another, the dramatic irony grows. Henrik's vision of himself, his motivations, and his actions appear in sharp relief against the conclusions being drawn by the reader. Henrik is, above all, an aristocrat, imprisoned by a value system he also embraces.

As the parallel dilemmas he imposes on his wife and Konrad emerge ironically from Henrik's narrative, the reader is simultaneously fascinated and frustrated by Henrik's view of his own dilemma and his desire for Truth. A heart-stopping climax and Konrad's dramatic reply to his interrogation, along with numerous breath-taking descriptions of nature, leave the reader awed by Marai's talent and grateful that this very clever and sensitive study of character and values has been reclaimed for posterity. Mary Whipple

Whilst I am always sceptical of a book that has received so much publicity, I bought it on the strength of its reviews. I was not disappointed and found it a compelling read. Its only weakness is perhaps in its translation. While it is clearly a book with its main strength in its literary imagery, the two words 'as if' crop up so many times as to be irritating.

On reflection, the immensely enthusiastic reviews state 'a conversation' between two ageing friends that had not seen each other for forty-one years. There was little conversation between the two men. The narrative was almost entirely Henrik's. Whilst this is a very clever achievement, I kept wanting Konrad to at least say something to give his character more dimension.

To conclude, although I have my criticisms, there are few (perhaps no) writers of today that can write such prose of such quality

Beautifully written, atmospheric, especially at the beginning but disappointing ultimately. I've read quite a few reviews and agree with criticisms, such as, why was his relationship with Nini not developed further? I found her a fascinating character and expected to hear more about her? Why were Konrad's and Krisztina's characters not developed more fully? The general is a pompous old bore who browbeats everyone into doing what he wants, including somehow getting his long estranged friend to come to dinner and listen to his conclusions on why he had left all those years ago and his philosophizing about an event which really should pale in comparison with other events in his life (he survived wars! without killing anyone also he admits which is unbelievable and can only be attributed to his rank I suppose). His wife is now over thirty years dead and he has had every opportunity to move on but instead chooses to dwell in bitterness and obsess over the past. This I suppose is a result of the strict code by which life was lived under the culture of the Austro-Hungarian empire where propriety and 'honour' mattered more than the well being of the individual. But Konrad's motivation for returning is weak. Is it some kind of honour thing? He wants to look his former friend in the eye before he dies? allow him to slap his face? literally? metaphorically? this is unclear but perhaps within the framework of the culture at the time is taken for granted as understood by the reader. does the wrong that Konrad and Krisztina committed against him allow him the moral authority to monopolize their interaction? is he permitted to 'try' his former friend in this way? what happened to the statute of limitations on these things. I just found it so unlikely that Konrad would permit this. I can only attribute it to the honour code among soldiers or his own feelings of guilt at the betrayal of his friend. or maybe it was all just a fantasy of the Generals. But I suspect I am judging it outside the cultural/political framework in which it was written. Still, for beauty, atmosphere, detail and the raising of universal themes about life such as dualities between nature/civlization, instinct/reason, male/female, life/death it is definitely worth reading.