'The High Mountains of Portugal' by Yann Martel
'The High Mountains of Portugal' - 3* - A weird, laborious, puzzle.
Yann Martel is the author of my favourite book of all time (‘The Life of Pi’), so I picked up ‘The High Mountains of Portugal’ with high expectations. Was I disappointed…?
In a way, yes.
‘The High Mountains of Portugal’ does contain a taste of Martel’s earlier work (there are the recognisable themes of spirituality, the magical and abstract), but it did not hit as hard as ‘The Life of Pi’. This is perhaps in part because the narrative was split between three different characters; you did not spend enough time with each to truly feel for them. However, it also felt as if Martel was making things incomprehensible (and just plain weird), to try force some depth into an otherwise bland plot.
And as for the plot…?
This book is about the process of grieving and how we cope. All three stories take the perspective of a widower and are linked by their relationship with The High Mountains of Portugal; a place which becomes symbolic for climbing the peaks and troughs of despair.
This is not a book to enjoy. I spent the majority of it powering through, feeling the weight of the pages to see how much time I had left before I would be set free to enjoy something else. The first section (Homeless) was painful. I demolished it in two days out of sheer desperation for it to end. The other two sections were more engaging in terms of plot, but still not riveting. Finishing it, I still feel as if I am missing something major. There is so much symbolism and allegory, that it will need a thorough re-reading before I can fully understand what Martel is grasping at.
In that way, Martel delivers: Despite spending all three hundred pages with an eye on the clock, I have reached the end with a sudden urge to go back to the beginning. Just like the body of Rafael in the second chapter, this book is an open cadaver. Cut at the heel and you find vomit. Dig deeper and deeper and you will find music, gold and, at the heart of the book, the mother and the son- the humanity.
To conclude:
If you want something to read for plot and enjoyment, this is not for you. If you want something to study fiercely then Yann Martel delivers.
To describe in three words? Weird, laborious, puzzle.
Yann Martel is the author of my favourite book of all time (‘The Life of Pi’), so I picked up ‘The High Mountains of Portugal’ with high expectations. Was I disappointed…?
In a way, yes.
‘The High Mountains of Portugal’ does contain a taste of Martel’s earlier work (there are the recognisable themes of spirituality, the magical and abstract), but it did not hit as hard as ‘The Life of Pi’. This is perhaps in part because the narrative was split between three different characters; you did not spend enough time with each to truly feel for them. However, it also felt as if Martel was making things incomprehensible (and just plain weird), to try force some depth into an otherwise bland plot.
And as for the plot…?
This book is about the process of grieving and how we cope. All three stories take the perspective of a widower and are linked by their relationship with The High Mountains of Portugal; a place which becomes symbolic for climbing the peaks and troughs of despair.
This is not a book to enjoy. I spent the majority of it powering through, feeling the weight of the pages to see how much time I had left before I would be set free to enjoy something else. The first section (Homeless) was painful. I demolished it in two days out of sheer desperation for it to end. The other two sections were more engaging in terms of plot, but still not riveting. Finishing it, I still feel as if I am missing something major. There is so much symbolism and allegory, that it will need a thorough re-reading before I can fully understand what Martel is grasping at.
In that way, Martel delivers: Despite spending all three hundred pages with an eye on the clock, I have reached the end with a sudden urge to go back to the beginning. Just like the body of Rafael in the second chapter, this book is an open cadaver. Cut at the heel and you find vomit. Dig deeper and deeper and you will find music, gold and, at the heart of the book, the mother and the son- the humanity.
To conclude:
If you want something to read for plot and enjoyment, this is not for you. If you want something to study fiercely then Yann Martel delivers.
To describe in three words? Weird, laborious, puzzle.
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