A review by karieh13
Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel
4.0
Yann Martel accomplishes something amazing in “Beatrice and Virgil”. He takes extremely unlikely characters and meshes them with one of humankind’s darkest hours…and delivers a story unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I say experienced instead of read because like the main character, Henry, I was drawn into and lulled by this new world. Henry, a writer, has stopped writing. He’s living his life doing other things, and not the work for which most of the world defines him.
“Creative block is no laughing matter, or only to those sodden spirits who’ve never even tried to make their personal mark. It’s not just a particular endeavor, a job, that is negated, it’s your whole being. It’s the dying of a small god within you, a part you thought might have immortality.”
And then Henry is given a play about characters named Beatrice and Virgil, and with that play, his life is forever changed.
Somehow, even from the beginning of the book, Martel’s words both interested and soothed me. His writing style is rather matter-of-fact, but in a way that allows additional layers of meaning to become part of the narrative…almost without the reader noticing. Well, without noticing until later. Until it’s too late…
“The reader’s disbelief begins to lift, like a stage curtain. Now the story can unfold more easily. There’s nothing like the unimaginable to make people believe.”
I can’t explain why I was so taken by the world inhabited by Beatrice and Virgil…and neither could Henry. While there was certainly something “off” about it, the sheer strangeness was part of its charm.
“The taxidermist shook his head without saying a word. Henry stood and waited, marveling at the animals. He was happy to be back. This was a room full of adjectives, like a Victorian novel.”
(And yes, I am trying to describe the book while giving very few details. I would hate to spoil it for someone.)
There are so many passages I marked within this book. Passages that contain thoughts or actions or events that are so raw that they feel like a punch to the gut. Passages of such carefully crafted words that the description of a single action conveys dozens of emotions. But I just can’t lift the curtain on this book. It caught me by surprise to such an extent that I hope it will catch others.
And the end…the end. I was never expecting that. I turned the final pages slowly, reading the words but not wanting to. I realize I’m probably coming across as overdramatic, but the end of this book was so different from any expectation that I had when I first picked it up, that’s the only way I can describe it.
I will never forget this book. This book that uses such an unlikely way to remind us of things that should never be forgotten. This book that uses such unexpected characters to remind us of the fragility of what makes us human, of the value of our lives. This fictional story that brings forth unarguable truths about life – both the beauty and the pain of it.
“A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real.”
I say experienced instead of read because like the main character, Henry, I was drawn into and lulled by this new world. Henry, a writer, has stopped writing. He’s living his life doing other things, and not the work for which most of the world defines him.
“Creative block is no laughing matter, or only to those sodden spirits who’ve never even tried to make their personal mark. It’s not just a particular endeavor, a job, that is negated, it’s your whole being. It’s the dying of a small god within you, a part you thought might have immortality.”
And then Henry is given a play about characters named Beatrice and Virgil, and with that play, his life is forever changed.
Somehow, even from the beginning of the book, Martel’s words both interested and soothed me. His writing style is rather matter-of-fact, but in a way that allows additional layers of meaning to become part of the narrative…almost without the reader noticing. Well, without noticing until later. Until it’s too late…
“The reader’s disbelief begins to lift, like a stage curtain. Now the story can unfold more easily. There’s nothing like the unimaginable to make people believe.”
I can’t explain why I was so taken by the world inhabited by Beatrice and Virgil…and neither could Henry. While there was certainly something “off” about it, the sheer strangeness was part of its charm.
“The taxidermist shook his head without saying a word. Henry stood and waited, marveling at the animals. He was happy to be back. This was a room full of adjectives, like a Victorian novel.”
(And yes, I am trying to describe the book while giving very few details. I would hate to spoil it for someone.)
There are so many passages I marked within this book. Passages that contain thoughts or actions or events that are so raw that they feel like a punch to the gut. Passages of such carefully crafted words that the description of a single action conveys dozens of emotions. But I just can’t lift the curtain on this book. It caught me by surprise to such an extent that I hope it will catch others.
And the end…the end. I was never expecting that. I turned the final pages slowly, reading the words but not wanting to. I realize I’m probably coming across as overdramatic, but the end of this book was so different from any expectation that I had when I first picked it up, that’s the only way I can describe it.
I will never forget this book. This book that uses such an unlikely way to remind us of things that should never be forgotten. This book that uses such unexpected characters to remind us of the fragility of what makes us human, of the value of our lives. This fictional story that brings forth unarguable truths about life – both the beauty and the pain of it.
“A work of art works because it is true, not because it is real.”