Goodbye to the Greek Island: The Garden of the Gods

The Garden of the Gods by Gerald Durrell

Penguin Books

Pp. 198

This is the third and final instalment in Gerald Durrell’s stories about his years in Corfu with the family, begun in My Family and Other Animals and continued in Birds, Beasts and Relatives. The tone has been set by the previous two, and this continues with more idyllic scene-setting and animal anecdotes.

These are halcyon days as the children have outstanding freedom in their unaccompanied travels: Gerry potters about in his boat; Margo swans off to the mainland; Leslie wanders the countryside with guns; Larry invites complete strangers to come and stay at their villa.

Gerald Durrell has a highly evocative way of writing that makes the countryside sound divine, and there are Homeric epithets in his descriptions of the sea. When he writes of the approaching seasons, his naturalist’s eye combines with his rustic poeticism and, as always, his main preoccupation is zoological. “For me, spring was one of the best times, for all the animal life of the island was astir and the air full of hope.”

He is keen to amass more creatures for his ever-growing menagerie, but he knows that certain members the family (particularly Larry), do not like his animal collection so he tries to get Mother and Margo on side, and they often feel sorry for abandoned animals. One of the peasants, wanting to get rid of unwanted puppies, buries them alive, by which fact Mother is understandably outraged. She exclaims, “These peasants! I can’t understand how they can be so cruel.”

The Greeks are examined almost as another species, which can be uncomfortably racist to a modern reader. Margo has many affairs of the heart, but always with Greeks rather than English boys (friends of Larry’s), saying of the local peasant boys, “They’re so handsome and so sweet. They all sing so well. They have such nice manners. They play the guitar. Give me one of them instead of an Englishman any day.” On the subject of changing attitudes with time, the family are remarkably accepting of potential paedophilia, commenting of a guest, Colonel Velvit, “Since his retirement his one interest in life was the local Scout troop and, while there were those unkind enough to say that his interest in Scouts was not entirely altruistic, he worked hard and had certainly never yet been caught.”

Mother accepts all the guests and offers outstanding hospitality, even to horrible or boring people, warning Margo, “We’ve never done anything nasty to anyone that’s stayed with us – I mean, except as a joke or by accident – and we’re not going to start.” One visitor friend of Larry’s believes he can levitate and keeps trying, invariably falling through the trellis

Gerry embellishes stories for comic effect, and sees them through a boy’s eyes, but some of the details are harrowing, such as when a Turk visits them (at Margo’s invitation) with three wives, aiming to make Margo his fourth.

They live in a weird limbo land without news of the outside world because, “we did not have the dubious benefits of a wireless and so, for the most part, lived in a state of blissful ignorance.” Part of this lack of ‘outside interference’ means they have to rely upon themselves for entertainment, and they do so with spectacular results. Gerry’s descriptions of the food, drink and company at these events are exquisite, and his depictions of a bygone era are sumptuous and appealing. He paints pictures with words that inspired a generation to travel and take an interest in nature. Some of the attitudes are outdated, but if he instils a sense of conservationism, they can be excused as the results of age. It’s tough to farewell these tales of childhood on an island paradise.

Idyllic Island Life: My Family and Other Animals

My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell

Penguin Books

Pp.308

A generation of readers was introduced to this marvellous family and the island of Corfu through the school curriculum. It is ingrained in the childhood of many and to return to it as an adult is refreshing and fascinating. The recent TV series starring Keeley Hawes as Mother has fuelled a new interest and it is actually quite hard to separate the books from their screen interpretations, as they have been done so sensitively and affectionately. The opening sentence sets forth to manage our expectations;

“This is the story of a five-year sojourn that I and my family made on the Greek island of Corfu. It was originally intended to be a mildly nostalgic account of the natural history of the island, but I made a grave mistake by introducing my family into the book in the first few pages. Having got themselves on paper, they then proceeded to establish themselves and invite various friends to share the chapters. It was only with the greatest difficulty, and considerable cunning, that I managed to retain a few pages here and there which I could devote exclusively to animals.”

The memoir is narrated by Gerry, the youngest of four children. The other members of the family are Larry, the eldest, and also known as famous published author, Lawrence Durrell, Leslie, who seems to like shooting things, and Margo, who wants nothing more than to get a tan. They are guided, after a fashion, by Mother, to whom the book is dedicated. It was either a bold or a foolhardy move to decamp to a Greek island in the 1930s (the TV series suggest alcoholism and impecuniousness were involved), but with hindsight, Gerry’s affection for his mother and her management of the menagerie is clear.

The family are loud and boisterous, with confidence that would be arrogance if it weren’t so kindly transcribed. Mother is aware that Gerry desperately needs an education; he explains that as a child his English and maths are woeful and the only words he can spell correctly are biological ones. He captures his dealings with his family with a child’s interest, providing light humour and insight. The direct style mixes the monumental with the banal. The family move house a few times (including the first great shift) and each time Larry suggests it; mother rejects it: “We are not moving to another villa, I’ve made up my mind about that”. The next chapter then begins with the move: “The new villa was enormous”. 

They have parties where the animals terrorise the guests (there are scorpions in matchboxes and snakes in the bath) and The Durrells think nothing is untoward. The family seem to get ‘caught up’ in the island rituals rather more by accident than design, while Gerry visits the islanders, who all think the English are odd, but refer to him (apparently affectionately) as “the little lord”. There is a lot of stereotypical sexist peasant behaviour that is considered acceptable, and his views are vaguely racist.

Gerry is interested in little other than animals, and there are lots in the book, as suggested by the title, but not as many as I had remembered. There are far more insects, and plenty of anthropomorphising. He gets a little carried away with describing the seasons in a manner that is not strictly scientific, adding to the overall whimsy. He can be forgiven, however, for the book itself has a wonderfully soporific effect. When he writes of languid afternoon swims, sunny siestas on the veranda and afternoon teas that leave the guests pleasantly replete, it is with precision and nostalgia. Who wouldn’t want to be there? 

The author evokes a wonderful feeling of a time and place, which could never be replicated. Because this is the memory of a child, it may never even have existed, but, whether returning to this book or encountering it for the first time, the reader feels the comfort of coming home.

Fishing for Compliments

The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher

(Bantam Press)

Pp. 251

This book was published shortly before Carrie Fisher died, which gives much of it added poignancy. It is mainly about her experience filming Star Wars; her youth and her inability to deal with unanticipated fame; her affair with Harrison Ford; her reaction to the conventions; and her irritation at being expected to still look the same now as she did then. The book is not particularly well-written, but it is honest and candid – the inclusion of her diaries and poetry written during the filming of Star Wars is a brave move – and ultimately very readable.

No one was prepared for the reception that Star Wars would receive. Her life was changed forever by the film refused to remain on screen. She was defined by one character with whom she has a love/hate relationship. “I had never been Princess Leia before and now I would be her forever. I would never not be Princess Leia. I had no idea how profoundly true that was and how long forever was.”

She writes with attempted nonchalance and sangfroid and is candid about her own drug addiction. Her style is deliberately self-effacing and jocular in tone, and although she presents her thoughts as raw and elemental, she has clearly polished the words into something she imagines is witty. There are a few insights into the behind-the-scenes goings-on during filming (such as the fact that due to her grimacing each time she fired the laser gun, she had to take shooting lessons from the man who prepared Robert De Niro for his role in Taxi Driver), but film geeks will probably know all of these already.

Her renowned advocacy for gender equality is evident and she had crippling anxiety about her looks, relating that she got the part in Star Wars on the proviso that she would lose ten pounds. But she also confesses she enjoyed the one-sided nature of the film, and to loving the male attention that came from being “the only girl in an all-boy fantasy.”

The main thing to emerge from this book, however, is her affair with Harrison Ford. She mockingly refers to their relationship as ‘Carrison’ and, although it comprises over half of the book, she pretends to dismiss it; forty years afterwards, she still tries to downplay it, which conversely gives it excessive importance. Obviously, this is one-sided account, but Harrison Ford doesn’t present very favourably. He seems like a predator from the first time he takes her home drunk from a cast and crew party. She was young and naïve, and he was careless of her sensitivities and her desperate neediness. She fixated on him like a smitten teenager.

He doesn’t talk to her, make her happy or feel good about herself, and he exacerbates her insecurities and anxiety. It seems that he is cold towards her, but perhaps that is just his nature? She records in her diary, “I act like someone in a bomb shelter trying to raise everyone’s spirits.” While it is brave to include the diaries and gauche poems, they are excruciatingly painful to read. Every teenage girl has written self-indulgent nonsense like this, but not always about Harrison Ford. One could argue that she knew the situation – he was married – but she tries to manipulate the reader into feeling sympathy for her.

She concludes with her feelings towards the fans at Star Wars conventions, and it is clear that she is not comfortable with the entire charade. It’s fair to say that Carrie Fisher’s relationship with Princess Leia and Star Wars in general, is both complex and unresolved, which is distressing as it will now forever remain that way.