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Our Assessment:
B+ : stylish take on a slice of 1910 Bucharest See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Rakes of the Old Court, set in Bucharest, Romania, around 1910, is a portrait of place, times, and lifestyles -- all conveyed as much, or more so, in the style of the writing as in what is being described.
It is a fin de siècle canvas of a place and slice of society with Parisian aspirations but aware too that it sits at the fringes of Europe, its cosmopolitan decadence saturated by the continental -- a still-pre-war Europe -- but also tinged by the very local.
They were talking about you today, before you came, they said you were working on a novel of manners, set in Bucharest, and I could barely keep from laughing. I mean, really: you and Bucharest manners. Maybe Chinese manners, as far as that goes, because you might as well be Chinese. How are you supposed to know manners, when you don't know anybody ? Aside from us, I mean, maybe if you wrote about Paşa, me Panta -- with anyone else you won't know what you're doing ... ah, yes, maybe my friend Poponel. Now if you visited some homes, met some families, that would change things, you'd see how much you'd have to write about, what characters !The narrator does expand his horizons some over the course of his account, notably in the final chapter, but Rakes of the Old Court remains far from a typical Bildungsroman -- as indeed Caragiale seems only limitedly interested in charting his narrator's growth, devoting much of the space to the stories of the more fully-formed others in the group. It's a rather loose-knit group the narrator is part of, pulled in different directions even as they repeatedly circle back to each other; they're very different characters with different backgrounds -- though all seem to enjoy a rather laid-back, easy-going lifestyle. Typically, too, they're only loosely rooted in and connected to the present-day, as much of the novel is also a lament for a lost past -- personal and general. So, for example, they happily escape the present in their imaginations: Then a new journey began, no less beguiling, a journey into centuries past. We would find ourselves in a century dear to us, and in all senses nostalgic: the eighteenth.As translator Sean Cotter notes in his Preface: "The book offers atmosphere, but few events", and indeed the novel is more one of episodes and scenes than one offering a full-fledged story-arc. So also, as the narrator notes of the group's get-togethers: But the real pleasure came in our idle conversation, the palaver that embraced only the beautiful: travel, the arts, letters, history -- history especially -- gliding through the calm of academic heightsThe novel is a motley canvas, but one rich in detail and color. If many bits feel stray, there are also longer pieces, actual stories such as in the chapter 'Confessions', which is largely one of the other character's accounts, revealing an unexpected personal history (and identity), a life of great excess, a great fall -- and then a return to previously privileged positions thanks to an inheritance (which turns out to be something rather more and different than a mere stroke of luck). So also, the final chapter has the narrator immersed in the Arnoteanus' household, with its three very different daughters: Their house was a combination of way station and an inn, a brothel, a gambling house, and a madhouse, was wide open any time to anyone, the meeting place of all the cursed and inquinate of our time: professional gamblers and provocateurs, drifters, stumblers and the fallen, the broken and the broke, ravaged by the taste for a life without work and above power, willing to sate their desire by any meansThe narrator here moves in an even more condensed and extreme form of the world he otherwise knows -- though he can handle it only for a time, eventually leaving it behind him. In the narrator's description of listening to one man's story, Caragiale seems to suggest his own ambitions and approach: The narration undulated languidly, braiding a rich garland of notable literary blossoms from all peoples. Master of the craft of painting with words, he effortlessly found means to express, in a tongue whose familiarity he claimed to have lost, even the most slippery and uncertain forms of being, of time, of distance, such that the illusion was always complete. As though bespelled, I undertook long imaginary journeys with him, journeys such as no dream ever provided ... the man spoke. Before my eyes unrolled charming throngs of tangible visions.There is attention to descriptive detail in the novel -- how much there is already just in a simple gesture, as when one girl holds out: "her tiny, gloved hand palm up, so I could kiss the bare skin above her wrist" -- but above all Caragiale luxuriates in language. Much is high-flown, but he also (via translator Cotter) does the baser and basic very well: Eh, what can you say, with everything and everything, with all her faults, a badmouther, a bedjumper, a bankbreaker, a blabbermouth, and a flake, who says and does everything upside-down and backwards and above all dangerously, ready to get you in trouble, still Mima had her fun sideTranslating all of Caragiale's great range is, of course a great challenge, and Cotter's discussion of his approach, in his Preface and the notes to the text, offers welcome insight into some of what he does here. Cotter notes his: "translation follows a tradition of reperformances", and gives a variety of examples of choices and approaches to specific issues. So, for example, in a note to the 'Confessions'-chapter he explains: In this chapter, Mateiu creates a contrast with other parts of the novel by including many Greek terms in Pantazi's account of his family. Some of these exist in English, though they are rare enough to require notes here. In my translation, I have also opted for words with Greek etymologies ("petrified", "catastrophe") where they were available.This kind of helpful supporting material gives English-language readers a better sense of the effect of the original, though clearly it's not possible to capture the full range of Caragiale's style-play. The slim novel can, in translation, not easily live up to its exalted reputation in Romanian, but Cotter's flights of language shine sufficiently to give some sense of its appeal. The strong characters -- beyond the central quartet, too, in figures such as "the storied Sultana Negoianu", or the youngest of the Arnoteanu daughters, Ilinca -- and the succinctly phrased dark turns of some of the episodes easily make quite an impression too. If at times the whole has a nebulous feel, the specifics tend to be razor sharp. Rakes of the Old Court is a stylish -- in very distinct fashion -- late-decadent work, and it is certainly good to have it now available in an English translation that captures much of what is essential to the original. - M.A.Orthofer, 25 August 2021 - Return to top of the page - Rakes of the Old Court:
- Return to top of the page - Romanian author Mateiu Caragiale lived 1885 to 1936. - Return to top of the page -
© 2021-2022 the complete review
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