The Maias

If Eça de Queirós had been English, Russian, or French he would be world famous and "The Maias" would be universally recognized as one of the greatest novels ever written. It's a stinging picture of Portugal in the 1870s, its still-wealthy aristocracy alternating between vapid love affairs and wittily despairing conversations about the impossibility of being anything or anyone in such a hopeless country. It's an affectionate but honest portrait of two friends, both of them gifted and both of them without the seriousness to live up to their gifts, and a portrait of Lisbon, a once great imperial capital by then in terminal decline. It's an intense and passionate love story, told with a frankness about physical love that breaks every stereotype there is about nineteenth century prudery. In 600 pages it gives us a whole world and a crowd of memorable people, all of them seen with both unsparing clarity and great love. Yet for all of its passion and sadness the book is written with a light touch; some of the early chapters are high comedy, and there can be few masterpieces of fiction that are as enjoyable to read. This cannot be recommended highly enough, and Margaret Jull Costa's brilliant translation, though a little heavy on the exclamation points, has been preferred by all the reviewers to the translation available from Penguin.