Esther's Inheritance

ESTHER'S INHERITANCE is the fourth of Marai's novels to be translated into English and it further builds the case for Marai as a superb writer of fiction, perhaps even one of the 20th Century's very best. Yet to me there is something unsatisfactory about ESTHER'S INHERITANCE. The fine reviews by Krebsman and Mary Whipple provide a good overview of the plot. What I want to comment on, or ask, concerns the meaning or point of the novel. Surely the following passage, at the very outset of the novel (page 2), is significant in this regard: "The first time I felt death might be salvation was when I knew that death was resolution and peace. Life alone is struggle and humiliation. And what a struggle it was! Who ordered it, and why was it impossible to avoid? I did all I could to escape it. But my foe pursued me. Now I know he could do nothing about it: we are bound to our enemies, nor can they escape us." The narrator Esther wrote those words three years after the fateful day that is the subject of the rest of the novel, the day on which Lajos, who almost ruined the lives of Esther and her brother and the rest of her circle twenty-plus years before, re-enters their lives and renews his cynical and destructive toying with Esther. Marai has Esther call Lajos a scoundrel (as translated), but Lajos is even worse: he is a villain, so cavalierly amoral and selfish that he takes on the garb of evil, maybe even the devil incarnate. The mystery is why Esther, who seems to be almost the paragon of level-headedness, submits once again to the transparently false lies and empty promises of Lajos. She seems to explain her decision by agreeing that "there is a kind of invisible order in life and * * * what one has begun one has also to end", echoing Lajos's words, "The law of life is that what is once begun has to be finished." But that is nonsense or, at best, a shabby endorsement of fatalism. And so the novel ends up being exasperatingly unsatisfactory, at least to me. Perhaps ESTHER'S INHERITANCE is best thought of as a novel of ideas, though, unless I am missing something, not very compelling ones. On the other hand, it is beautifully written, with much of the same ambiance as "Embers." And although it does not begin to measure up to "Embers" (one of the ten best novels I have read over the past few years), ESTHER'S INHERITANCE is certainly worth reading.

Full of the kind of dramatic tension and intimacy usually associated with great stage plays, Hungarian author Sandor Marai's newest novel to be translated into English plumbs the depths of a love thwarted and then revisited years later. Twenty-three years before the book opens, sensible Esther, now in her mid-forties, shared a once-in-a-lifetime passion with Lajos, a man who bewitched everyone who came into contact with him, a man so full of energy--and lies--that life became a dangerous, exciting adventure for everyone. As persuasive as he was charming, he lived the good life, often "borrowing" valuable items and money from friends. Now, much later, Esther has decided to record every detail of her relationship with Lajos as part of the family history. Moving back and forth in time, Esther creates a vivid picture of Lajos and the magical, mysterious hold he has exerted on everyone, concentrating on his hold over her and her ability to resist (or not resist) his versions of the "truth." When he proposed to the vulnerable Esther, then twenty-two, she recognized him for the charming scoundrel he really was, but she also looked forward to a future with him. What she did not expect was that within weeks he would marry her younger sister Vilma and leave town, maybe forever. Twenty years have passed since they left. Vilma has died, and now Lajos has returned to the village, seeking Esther. Their dramatic confrontation and shared memories are the crux of the novel. As Esther recalls events three years after Lajos's visit, the reader gradually sees that Esther is not a reliable narrator--nor is Lajos--and as details emerge regarding Lajos's marriage to Vilma, the tension within Esther (and the reader) becomes almost palpable. Lajos, we discover, has been even more devious than anyone has suspected, but as he begins to draw the reader into his orbit, the reader discovers that he may be the one person who comes closest to real self-knowledge. The heart-stopping conclusion leaves the reader in awe of Marai's ability to use dramatic irony to its fullest effect. A master craftsman who compresses his novels so that every word, image, and detail adds to the atmosphere and suspense, Marai has only recently received the world-wide acclaim he deserves. A highly regarded writer in Hungary in the 1930s, he was forced out of the country in 1948, when his opposition to the Communist takeover made him an enemy of the government. Many of his books were believed lost forever, and none were available in English. In 2000, eleven years after Marai's death, Embers, long thought lost, was found in Italy, translated, and published. Esther's Inheritance, originally written in 1938, is the third novel to be translated and reissued since then. With universal themes and characters who reflect universal human failings, Marai's novels offer a fresh look at the age-old struggle to make sense of a confusing and conflicted world. n Mary Whipple Casanova in Bolzano

A great short novel by Hungarian novelist Sandor Marai (1900-1989). Written in 1939, the novel is about Eszter, the main character and narrator, a single woman in her mid 40s, who fears the impending return of Lajos, a former lover and con man, who left her for her sister twenty years ago leaving her almost bankrupt. With help from her friends, she has reconstructed her life, but she fears that Lajos, who manipulates her at at will, is back to finish his job. As it happens, her worst fears will come to reality. The book is great, and Lajos is a great picture of a swindler. I would have expected the novel to explain a bit more why Eszter is so passive to Lajos' tricks, but despite this, this novel is an impressive work by Marai.

As an admirer of Sandor Marai's EMBERS, I was really looking forward to the publication in English of ESTHER'S INHERITANCE. It's a brief book--only 148 large-type pages, but it's powerful. It's also quite unpleasant. That's not necessarily a bad thing. KING LEAR is unpleasant, too. And KING LEAR is one of two works I would compare it to. The other is the Leonard Cohen song, "One of Us Cannot Be Wrong," which sings of masochistic love. Obviously Esther is not a tragic hero in the Aristotelian sense, but, like Lear, she is undone by her own character and I would call her story tragic. I'm not giving anything away. Marai lets the reader know early on what's going to happen. The suspense comes from the way that it happens. ESTHER'S INHERITANCE has much in common with EMBERS in that both stories concern the arrival after many years of a person who was significant in the protagonist's past. Esther once loved a man named Lajos, who was a scoundrel. All the characters know that he is a scoundrel, yet they have all done his bidding despite knowing full well that they were going to be swindled. And they are all excited by the news that Lajos is going to pay a visit after an absence of twenty years. Like EMBERS, there is a Chekhovian sadness that permeates the book and is difficult to shake after the novel is finished. Marai was the 20th Century's great-unsung writer who is only now being discovered. I don't think ESTHER'S INHERITANCE is as good as EMBERS, but it is nonetheless worth reading, even though the translation is awkward in several places. If you're looking for an upbeat experience, this is not the book for you. But it is nonetheless a work of art. EMBERS was successfully adapted to the stage in England with Jeremy Irons in the leading role. I think ESTHER'S INHERITANCE is far more theatrical and I would not be surprised if it too were soon seen on the stage. Actors looking for scenes to perform in acting class will find this book a gold mine. I can only imagine what Geraldine Page at age 45 could have done with the title role. Four stars.