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South Wind

3.76 of 5 stars 3.76 · rating details · 62 ratings · 14 reviews

"The south wind blows constantly during the spring and summer. Hardly less constantly in autumn. And in winter, often for weeks on end." Douglas' famed novel of Capri, loved and derided in equal measure for its plot or lack thereof, is back in a palatable edition. Bishop Heard returns from Africa, making a stopover on the island of Nepenthe (Capris.) While there, he encoun...more

Published (first published 1917)

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Jan 17, 2013 Sketchbook rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Gilbert & Sullivan on Capri where the little-known author lived. Volcanic eruptions, an earthquake, a funeral and a festival keep the multi-cast pondering sex, religion, life. Advisories: 'Get rid of conventional notions, if you value your health' and 'The secret of happiness is curiousity.' The denizens include a scholar who can't decide if a relic is the thigh bone of a saint or the
tibia of a cow; a Wildean lady who wanders into polite murder; a teenage poet who laments that he has nothing...more

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May 13, 2013 Andrew Schirmer rated it 5 of 5 stars Recommends it for: Nabokovians, eccentrics

Note: This is the longest review I've yet composed on Goodreads, but this is such an astounding work of genius, of learning and writer's craft, I feel it should be better-known. What follows is my small attempt to bring this about.

"... I glanced too, at the books; they were numerous, untidy, and miscellaneous. But one shelf was a little neater than the rest and here I noted the following sequence which for a moment seemed to form a vague musical phrase, oddly familiar: Hamlet, La Morte d'Arthur...more

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Sep 11, 2010 Mark Desrosiers rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction, overrated-drivel

According to the resident expert who pressed this into my hand, this was one of Vlad Nabokov's favorite novels, and I can see why: there are some snarky scholarship and annotation parodies involving "Saint Dodekanus" and the fictional island of Nepenthe (i.e. Capri) which clearly inspired Pale Fire. But, wow, has this novel dated terribly... the prose is wooden, the "humor" is droll and pretentious, and all the moral/political/religious (mostly religious) targets of Douglas's wit are, y'know, ci...more

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Jan 17, 2013 Seth Holler rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Before beginning: In a review of one of Douglas's later novels, Waugh wrote that in SOUTH WIND he had "achieved, with superb facility, the only great satirical novel of his generation." So let's just see what we've got.

A third of the way through: the chapters are organized casually, as is, occasionally, the narration ("Napoleon, or somebody, once remarked 'L'etat, c'est moi.'"). But the story has a definite shape; we meet various characters in conversation with others, then (eventually) get thei...more Before beginning: In a review of one of Douglas's later novels, Waugh wrote that in SOUTH WIND he had "achieved, with superb facility, the only great satirical novel of his generation." So let's just see what we've got.

A third of the way through: the chapters are organized casually, as is, occasionally, the narration ("Napoleon, or somebody, once remarked 'L'etat, c'est moi.'"). But the story has a definite shape; we meet various characters in conversation with others, then (eventually) get their backstories. Also: the pornographic cover on the Capuchin edition is so far entirely inappropriate. The humor is inconsistent.

Halfway: the worldly, morally suspect Jesuit is still the most entertaining speaker. The worldly atheist Mr Keith is a bore to everyone (readers, other characters) but the author. Denis the college graduate gets some nice under his breath one-liners. I expect great things from the Count, who is shaping into a reputable villain. The three disreputable villains (President of the club, corrupt judge, wealthy foreigner Mr Muhlen) have no purchase on the imagination, though I want more of their ally, the Vice President of the club. The protagonist (an Anglican bishop on leave) is dull, but don't forget Chesterton's defense of Nicholas Nickleby: he's just an excuse to meet everyone else. The women are all interesting, but underdeveloped. I figured out the identity of the naked lady on the cover.

Something more should be said of the narration: it's of uneven quality. The dominant note in the background chapters is whimsy, as in the matter of fact descriptions of the "Good Duke's" jovial cruelties. I'd call it irony, but it's not at all subtle. Here's one of the better examples: "Nobody, probably, has done more to foster pious feelings towards their island patron than the Good Duke Alfred, who, among other things, caused a stately marble frieze to be placed in the church.... The frieze indeed was admired so unreservedly, so recklessly, that the Good Duke felt it his duty to remove the sculptor's eyes and (on second thoughts) his hands as well, in order that no sovereign should possess works by so consummate a master of stonecraft. There the disciplinary measures ended. He did his best to console the gifted artist, who was fed, henceforth, on lobsters, decorated with the order of the Golden Vine, and would doubtless have been ennobled after death, had the Prince not predeceased the sculptor." (from Chp 3).

Finished: More of the same, though I was wrong about the Count. I rather like the millionaire prophylactic-manufacturer. The book is a strange mix of clear satire and half-serious irreverent disquisitions; sometimes funny, never approaching hilarious. If we reckon it sincere, the Bishop's spiritual journey is incredible from start to finish. That of Denis, being less ambitious, is believable. I can see the island of Nepenthe, and it is lovely.

If Waugh is right, I see no reason to read any satires written by Douglas's contemporaries.(less)

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Sep 07, 2012 Alex Sarll rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

A wonderful tale of life among the disreptutable expats on the Mediterranean island of Nepenthe (commonly believed to represent Capri, but possibly the ideal of which Capri is a reflection). There is a plot, of sorts, but the attraction is more in "a frolicsome perversity", in spending a few days on the beaches and taverns with these drunks and monomaniacs, hearing their grand schemes and thoughts on life, spying on the minutiae of their many sins - obliquely though they are often described. Man...more

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Mar 03, 2010 Mary rated it 3 of 5 stars

Because Time magazine once equated this novel with Candide and with The Odyssey, I found it, read 15 chapters, then read the first and last paragraphs of the remaining 35 chapters. I then read and admired Candide and am enjoying The Odyssey. All three do involve adventure in exotic locales far from home, where the weather affects (controls?) people, but I don't see this one on the top shelf with the other two. Interesting try, though, for an English travel writer in 1917. His life started in 186...more

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Aug 15, 2012 Lobstergirl rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Recommended to Lobstergirl by: Panos Tserpes

Shelves: own, fiction

This is a really odd book. I think the fact that it was published in 1917 redeems it somewhat; it seems ahead of its time, and if it had been released after 1955 I probably would have hated it. It would have seemed more like Kingsley Amis or David Lodge than Evelyn Waugh. It is resolutely comical and transgressively clever, rather than nakedly reprobative. The author, Norman Douglas, was mainly a travel writer, and apparently a bit of a pederast, occasionally fleeing scandal and the authorities....more This is a really odd book. I think the fact that it was published in 1917 redeems it somewhat; it seems ahead of its time, and if it had been released after 1955 I probably would have hated it. It would have seemed more like Kingsley Amis or David Lodge than Evelyn Waugh. It is resolutely comical and transgressively clever, rather than nakedly reprobative. The author, Norman Douglas, was mainly a travel writer, and apparently a bit of a pederast, occasionally fleeing scandal and the authorities.

There isn't much plot. Our protagonist, Anglican bishop Thomas Heard, is on his way back from his diocese in Africa to England and stops on the island of Nepenthe (based on Capri, where the author lived for a time) to visit his cousin, a newly married woman with a young baby and a husband off in the colonies somewhere. Bishop Heard meets a variety of mostly expatriate Brits, attends parties, has conversations, goes on walks, calls on his cousin, attends a funeral, and finally witnesses a murder. The novel is strongly anti-clerical; the local priests are just as sybaritic or corrupt as everyone else, and ultimately Heard, tantalized and overcome by Nepenthe's lifestyle and the sirocco (the south wind of the title), decides he can't possibly return to the Church.

Wildean epigrams sometimes pepper the narrative ("Her life since the marrying period had been a breathless succession of love affairs, each more eternal than the last"). Or Douglas regales the reader with absurdity, as in this description of Saint Eulalia, patroness of Nepenthean sailors:

She refused to partake of food save once in every five weeks; she remained immovable 'like a statue' for months on end; she wore under her rough clothing iron spikes which were found, after death, to have entered deeply into her flesh. She was never known to use a drop of water for purposes of ablution or to change her underwear more than once a year, and then only at the order of her confessor who was obliged to be in daily contact with her. The heat of her body was such that it could not be touched by human hands. During her frequent trances she spoke accurately in sixty-nine different languages; there was no hair whatever on her head, which was 'spotless as an egg'. She put baskets of sea urchins into her bed and, as a penance for what she called 'her many sins', forced herself to catch the legions of vermin that infested her brown blanket, count them, separate the males from the females, set them free once more, and begin over again. She died at the age of fourteen years and two months. Her corpse forthwith became roseate in colour, exhaled a delicious odour of violets for twenty weeks, and performed countless miracles. On dissection, a portrait of Saint James of Compostella was discovered embedded in her liver.(less)

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May 04, 2013 Karen Maskarinec rated it 3 of 5 stars

Intriguing....what actually happened? Or was it intented to be like real life in that way, that one is never quite sure about anyone else?

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Nov 17, 2009 Shane rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

A romp. A quick read like an earlier Waugh.

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Jan 08, 2012 Earl rated it 5 of 5 stars

great classic

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Aug 11, 2011 Albert rated it 4 of 5 stars

Great language and characterization throughout. Would be a classic if the author had gone beyond the skeletal plot...but it picks up a bit in the second half. In parts it feels like a (much lesser) version of The Canterbury Tales...everyone reciting tales and monologues without interaction or development, but this isn't out of place given the fictional island context. [return][return]This was my first eBook for the nook...a great reading experience! Also can't beat the price (FREE!) at manybooks...more

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Oct 14, 2012 Elizabeth rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Fantastic

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Jul 17, 2012 Rozzer marked it as to-read

Shelves: online-f, fiction

Available at: http://archive.org/stream/southwind00...

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Feb 10, 2011 Sheri Horton rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

A beautifully written book about nothing. Think of it as a classical Seinfeld.

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Shelves: general-fiction

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May 06, 2013 Dr.excelsior rated it 4 of 5 stars

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About Norman Douglas

Norman Douglas was born in Thüringen, Austria (his surname was registered at birth as Douglass). His mother was Vanda von Poellnitz. His father was John Sholto Douglas (1845-1874), manager of a cotton mill, who died when Norman was about six. Norman was brought up mainly at Tilquhillie, Deeside, his paternal home. He was educated at Uppingham School England, and then at a grammar school in Karlsru...more Norman Douglas was born in Thüringen, Austria (his surname was registered at birth as Douglass). His mother was Vanda von Poellnitz. His father was John Sholto Douglas (1845-1874), manager of a cotton mill, who died when Norman was about six. Norman was brought up mainly at Tilquhillie, Deeside, his paternal home. He was educated at Uppingham School England, and then at a grammar school in Karlsruhe. Norman's paternal grandfather was the 14th Laird of Tilquhillie. Norman's maternal great-grandfather was General James Ochoncar Forbes (1765-1843), 17th Lord Forbes.

He started in the diplomatic service in 1894 but was placed on leave in unclear circumstances (probably relating to sexual scandal). In 1897 he bought a villa in Naples. The next year he married Elizabeth Louisa Theobaldina FitzGibbon, a cousin (their mothers were sisters, daughters of Baron Ernst von Poellnitz). They had two children, but divorced in 1903 on grounds of Elizabeth's infidelity. Norman's first book publication, (Unprofessional Tales (1901)) was written under the pseudonym Normyx, in collaboration with Elizabeth.

He moved to Capri, spending time there and in London, and became a more committed writer. Nepenthe, the fictional island setting of South Wind, is Capri in light disguise. In 1912-1914 he worked for The English Review. He met D. H. Lawrence through this connection. This led to a feud, after Lawrence in 1922 in Aaron's Rod based a character on Douglas. In late 1916 he jumped bail in London on a charge of indecent assault on a sixteen year old boy, and effectively then lived in exile. He himself wrote of this in self-exculpation: 'Norman Douglas of Capri, and of Naples and Florence, was formerly of England, which he fled during the war to avoid persecution for kissing a boy and giving him some cakes and a shilling'. (The boy in fact complained to the police).

During Douglas's years in Florence, he was associated with the publisher and bookseller Pino Orioli, who published in Italy in his Lungarno series a number of Douglas's books and also works by other English authors, many of which (such as the first edition of Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover), would have been prosecuted for obscenity if published in London. Douglas probably had a major hand in writing Orioli's autobiography, Memoirs of a Bookseller.

Further scandals led to Douglas leaving Italy for the south of France in 1937. During World War II Douglas left France, and on a circuitous journey to London, where he lived from 1942 to 1946, he published the first edition of his Almanac in a tiny edition in Lisbon. He returned to Capri, where his circle of acquaintances included the writer Graham Greene and the food writer Elizabeth David. He died in Capri, apparently deliberately overdosing himself on drugs after a long illness.

His last known words to those near him were - "Get these fucking nuns away from me."(less)

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