1930. American writer and playwright, he is best known for the Pulitzer Prize awarded his play Our Town in 1938. His second novel, The Bridge of San Luis Rey won the Pulitzer Prize in 1928. The first part of this novel is based upon the Andria, a comedy of Terence who in turn based his work upon two Greek plays, now lost to us, by Menander. The Woman of Andros reflected Wilder's understanding of the classics. In the character of Chrysis the author created his archetype of of the virtue of hope. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.
Thornton Niven Wilder was an American playwright and novelist. He received three Pulitzer Prizes, one for his novel The Bridge of San Luis Rey and two for his plays Our Town and The Skin of Our Teeth, and a National Book Award for his novel The Eighth Day.
Set on a fictional Greek island around 200 BC, it contains themes that are very reminiscent of what's going on in parts of the world today regarding immigrants and differences in race, customs, etc. One can never go wrong reading Thornton Wilder. Certainly one of the most accomplished writers of the twentieth century.
A brief novella set on an out of the way Greek island about 300BC. It is based on a comedy by the Roman playwright Terence; although this isn’t a comedy (despite having some comedic elements). The topics are weighty ones; as one of the characters asks: “How does one live? What does one do first?” It is an examination of being an outsider, class, the nature of love and the very nature of human existence. The writing is beautifully descriptive; “The earth sighed as it turned in its course; the shadow of night crept gradually along the Mediterranean, and Asia was left in darkness. The great cliff that would one day be called Gibraltar held for a long time a gleam of red and orange” Wilder can say a great deal with an economy of words. Chrysis (a courtesan) arrives on the island of Brynos with her unconventional household ; including her sister Glycerium, an innocent who has seen little of the world. Chrysis is an outcast, partly because of her profession and partly because she is not Greek. She holds soirees that the young unmarried men of the island attend. Hostility from the women of the island and the older men is inevitable. Pamphilus, son of one of the leading citizens, is the centre of the tale. Chrysis falls in love with him. Her sister Glycerium is kept away from all this; she is still young. One day Glycerium is walking in the hills and meets Pamphilus (he does not know she is the sister of Chrysis). They fall in love and Glycerium becomes pregnant. The stage is now set for tragedy. What will Pamphilus do? Will he stand up to his family and stand by his love? How will Chrysis react? What will island society think? Pamphilus is a bit of a thinker (and male) and so doesn’t know what to do! It’s a good tale about the importance of grasping life’s opportunities. The last sentence lets it down a little and is unnecessary; but it can be read at a sitting and I would recommend it.
This is a short novel by Wilder which tells a beautiful story in Ancient Greece adapted by some fragments that were adapted from a previous Latin adaptation by Terrence of some original Greek stories which have unfortunately been lost. It is sort of a Romeo and Juliet kind of plot, but set on a Greek island and written in Wilder's languid, beautiful prose. Definitely worth the hour or two it takes to read. Wondering whether I will read The Ides of March which is in the same volume from the Modern Library.
Oh, to have lived on a Greek island two thousand years ago. Or with the Durrell's on Corfu in the 1930s. Or singing ABBA with Meryl Streep/Donna Sheridan in the 2000s. This one is set on Brynos (fictional) sometime BC, and tells of Chrysis, the Woman of Andros, her sister Glycerium, and the young man who catches the eye of both, thereby upending the traditional way of life on the island. It is a story of Life, capital L, and of Death, capital D, and what it is to exist in this world.
Along with Willa Cather, I have recently come to value Thornton Wilder as a writer of the historical non-epic, although this one was less lively and more contemplative than his more famous The Bridge of San Luis Rey. It reminded me of Evelyn Waugh's Helena. Anyone who raves about The Alchemist really should be reading this instead.
Today's word of the day is hetaira.
he·tae·ra /həˈtirə/ noun noun: hetaira 1. a courtesan or mistress, especially one in ancient Greece akin to the modern geisha.
از آن دسته کتابهایی بود که ارزش خواندن دارد، ناشناخته و یا کمتر شناختهشده است💕 بخشی از متن کتاب: «تاثیر حقیقی بر دیگری، نه از راهِ زبانآوریِ آنی یا از طریقِ گزینشِ واژگان درست و بهجا، بلکه از راهِ انباشتِ یک عمر افکارِ گردآمده در چشمها ناشی میشود.»
An introspective and terribly beautiful look at the human soul and what it means to be alive. Inspired by Terence, but laced throughout too with Plato and Homer and echoes of the Christ to come. I will be thinking about this one for a while.
The living too are dead and we can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasure; for our hearts are not strong enough to love every moment.
Then Chrysis, the serene, the happily dead, seeing the tear that stood in the eyes of Pamphilus, could go no further, and before them all she wept as one weeps who after an absence of folly and self-will returns to a well-loved place and an old loyalty. It was true, true beyond a doubt, tragically true, that the world of love and virtue and wisdom was the true world and her failure in it all the more overwhelming. But she was not alone; he too saw the long and failing war as she did.
I have known the worst that the world can do to me, and nevertheless I praise the world and all living. All that is, is well.
Triumph had passed from Greece and wisdom from Egypt, but with the coming on of night they seemed to regain their lost honors, and the land that was soon to be called Holy prepared in the dark its wonderful burden.
Story: 6 (Slow-moving and thoughtful) Characters: 6 (Distant and gloomy) Accuracy: 9 (Very similar to ancient works)
This is a distant and rather gloomy story based on a play by Terence (itself based on a play by Menander). It captures life on an isolated Greek island very well. The description of physical features is minimal, but you can still feel the barren and rocky landscape and scattered farmhouses with a small number of people wandering about. And the insular and clannish nature of the families living there with their marriage alliances and distrust of foreigners. It feels a lot like life on a modern Greek island except with pagan religious practices, slavery, and hetairai (essentially a cross between educated courtesans and high class prostitutes). It also captures the fascinating pessimism at the heart of Greek life. Life is essentially a collection of painful moments and satisfaction can only be had for brief intervals.
The flip side of this, of course, is that it is a very gloomy book with a very insular focus where not much happens. It’s essentially about life and death and how to bear them. There are some hopeful moments but they generally end in heartbreak. And yet you need to keep living anyway. The characters are quite distant, none of them really connecting with each other or able to reach out and seek strength though a group. And the co-lead, Pamphilus, is too indecisive to ever actually do anything. So we basically get some musings about life, death, and philosophy (not necessarily in that order) and a careful attempt to reproduce the mental landscape of the period tied in with a minimalist plot built around intergenerational aspirations and marriages.
I didn’t dislike the book, nor did it really speak to me. It’s quite short and not a difficult read. Anyone who enjoys Greek drama or wants to experience what life was like on an ancient Greek island may enjoy this book.
An excellent short novella set in ancient Greece. The opening few paragraphs are simply magnificent. Wilder starts by using beautiful descriptive prose to form a mental image of the entire Mediterranean Sea and slowly progresses down until it settles on two men sitting at a table. The book is well worth the read simply for this opening. The story then begins the tale of Chrysis from Andros who has a following of young men who gather to listen to her recite poetry. Among the young men is Pamphilis who later meets the younger sister of Chrysis, Glycerium, and so begins a forbidden love affair. This becomes the focus of the rest of the book. Wilder's writing is extraordinary.
I re-read this book to prep for a discussion on it, and I'm glad I did because it turns out I had forgotten a lot of it, even though it's less than 100 pages. Wilder's beautiful writing and style is all there, of course, and I appreciate his interest in the short novel, however on this read I found myself wishing certain areas of the book had been expanded. Maybe that can happen in future adaptations, and maybe Wilder just really wants to leave us wanting more. I also found myself relating the plot to Fiddler on the Roof with the father, Simo, as Tevye, and his son, Pamphilus, as one of the three daughters. Pamphilus doesn't want to marry the local girl and Simo is indulging this despite his wife and the girl's father pressuring him to force the match. But the titular woman of Andros, Chrysis, is the key character in all this, as she opens up Pamphilus and other young men on the island to a more philosophical and literary way of life. Having read all of Wilder's novels now, I think at this point in time I'm partial to the lighter contemporary ones, such as Heaven's my Destination and Theophilus North, though that will most likely change again, and so to know that The Woman of Andros' source material is a more comedic play, part of me wishes Wilder had used a lighter touch here as well instead of turning the adaptation into a tragedy. Still, there's a lot in here for a book so short, a lot of philosophical rumination and thoughtfulness.
I checked out an LOA book of Thornton Wilder stories from the library this weekend and now I’ve read three novellas in three days because they are simply in front of me.
I’m a Thornton Wilder fan (see below), so as I browsed a used bookstore recently this book jumped out at me. It is a spare, bittersweet story set on a Greek island sometime before Christianity. The Woman of the title, who is not native to the island and something of an outcast is really a prostitute although her profession is referred to only in the obliquest of ways. It turns out she is also well-read, perceptive and generous, and, we might infer, by modern standards generally superior to the other more socially conventional women who live and marry there. She offers entertainments to the young men of the island in the form of what might have been called at one time a salon. She also has a sister she is very protective of. Strangely, she thinks of herself as dead inside.
There is a bit of a plot, but I think Wilder is more interested in investigating the attitudes of the different characters than in a what-happens-next fiction. His style is especially refined in this book, which reads somewhat like a fable: the third-person narrator (recognizable from other works of this author) seems to speak from a place somewhere between here and the heavens:
Simo’s slightly cynical superiority over the rest of the world reposed on the fact that he had gone through life without ever having been surprised as unjust, untruthful, or ungenerous.
And one feels this narrator could tell us much more, but is circumspect and scrupulous. Has there ever been a more gossamer description of a seduction as the following?
It was not at this meeting, nor at their next, but at the third, beneath the dwarfed olive-trees, that those caresses that seemed to be for courage, for pity and for admiration, were turned by Nature to her own uses.
Wilder’s thematic concerns are nothing if not consistent throughout his work. Here is a remarkable passage:
His father passed through the court unseeing, for on that day his mind had been full of care. Suddenly the hero saw that the living too are dead and that we can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasure; for our hearts are not strong enough to love every moment.
I’m sure most readers will recognize a loud echo from Our Town, but that play was eight years in the future.
This focused story is more limited than the more expansive ones in other novels I’ve read by Wilder. And in fact I’m not sure I fully see the connection between the construction of this book and its themes, but I still enjoyed living in this world and reading Wilder’s prose.
Gratuitous notes:
1. The volume I found may be a first edition, (although not the first printing). The pages are of an unusually heavy stock, and are textured with a noticeable grid presumably from the plates or screens or however paper is made. The printing was, I am sure, from metal type - that’s hardly news for a book from 1930 but it strikes me how seldom I encounter anything like this now. There is almost as much white space on the page as type. The physical nature of the book was a significant part of the pleasure of reading it, and somehow appropriate for a story set in a distant age.
2. Both The Bridge of San Luis Rey and The Ides of March are 5*+ books for me. The former has 24K reviews on this site and the latter under 1000. (Andros has 84.) That means, especially for people who have read this far here, there are many who still have Ides to look forward to. I can’t recommend it enough. Andros is optional.
Loses some steam towards the end, but overall lovely. It's pretty much an ode to being introspective and vacillating, and I guess that's what I needed to read today.
Curiously, the character in this novel who keeps coming back to me the most barely appears in the narrative. In ancient Roman comedy, one of the many stock characters was the Leno, a slave dealer. In this novel, the Leno appears near the climax to purchase several individuals who are deeply in debt. He really isn’t described enough to even be called a character. He is merely incidental, a part of life. And yet that is what makes him so memorable. That and the fact that one of the few things Wilder tells use about him is that he is smiling.
Ever since I first encountered Thornton Wilder’s novels in high school, his work has been significant to me due its lyrical beauty and lack of preoccupation with sexuality. Both aspects, while striking major chords with me, tend to bring Wilder critical scorn and the indifference of those readers who accuse him of not dealing with “real life,” a phrase which really means “my life.” In a review of Wilder’s The Bridge of San Luis Rey, I suggested that not focusing on sexuality might enable an author to zero in more sharply on other themes. This novel of Wilder’s, his third, is a perfect example of that. The themes covered in The Woman of Andros are startlingly numerous for a work that does not even reach two hundred pages. However, they do unite in a somewhat intangible way. Before delving into that, I think it crucial to establish something that astonished me as I finished reading. The Woman of Andros is a Christian novel.
By this, I do not mean that Wilder has any proselytizing agenda here. He is also rather pointedly uninterested in slandering any other religious beliefs and there is certainly no sectarianism to be found; the Christianity present is quite broad. In fact, apart from two brief statements that establish the novel as taking place shortly before Christ’s birth, there are not even any references to the Christian religion. Yet The Woman of Andros is Christian, through and through. Building on a comedy by the Roman dramatist Terence (who had derived his plot from a now lost play by the Greek writer Menander), Wilder uses a quiet, simple story to dramatize the transcendent impact of Christian doctrine on human relations. The fact that not one of the characters is a Christian makes Wilder’s ultimate message sophisticated but deeply problematic.
The Woman of Andros takes place on the fictional Greek island of Brynos. Pamphilus, son of the well off merchant Simo, has fallen under the spell of the Andrian courtesan Chrysis, much to the dismay of his father. Chrysis has become popular with many of the island’s young men. In addition to her professional activities, Chrysis beguiles the youth of Brynos with philosophical discourses and recitations from classical poetry and drama. She also supports several friends who have fallen on hard times, many of whom live with her. These individuals, broke, sick, physically disabled, mentally ill, are seen as useless by the islanders. All of Chrysis’s unconventional behavior scandalizes the respectable people of Brynos. As Pamphilus becomes closer to Chrysis and her circle, he finds himself falling in love with her younger sister Glycerium, further upsetting Simo.
Again, there is a great deal going on in this little book. In trying to come up with a thematic summary, the best I can do is discuss the commodification of human beings. Throughout The Woman of Andros, I got the distinct feeling that Wilder was offering us a choice. Option one: we can insist on viewing each other as having a value above and beyond the functional/monetary. If we do this, we must at least attempt to respect the intrinsic dignity of every person. Option two: we can accept that, in our brutal world, we are ultimately only worthwhile as long as we can provide something heavy on the scales. If we can’t do that, we might as well become goods ourselves. That’s where the Leno comes in. He is not a villain. He simply cannot conceive of any man or woman having value beyond their usefulness. He chose option two. Anyone who picks option two, while they may not be a Leno themselves, ultimately accepts the Leno’s business as legitimate.
Of course, going with option one is anything but easy. If we try not to dismiss others when they become troublesome, we have to deal with their failures, their immaturity, their nonsense, their ingratitude. And they have to deal with ours. In the novel, Chrysis’s dependents, while privately adoring her, are outwardly ungrateful. None of Wilder’s characters who choose option one gain any obvious joy or peace from it. In fact, their previously settled worlds are thrown into confusion and heartbreak. However, none seem to regret it. Wilder tries to tell us that, for all its clarity, life with option two lacks the magic and illumination of love. It also robs anyone who picks it of the moral right to claim protection when they themselves (or someone they care for) ends up as merchandise on the Leno’s ship.
I am with Wilder on all of this. My problem arises with his fusing option one with Christianity. Perhaps “Christianity” should be swapped out for “religion.” One of Wilder’s most moving characterizations in this novel is a young priest of Apollo. This man devotes himself to a life of compassion and mercy and, while silently relied on by the islanders, is thought of as something of an oddball. Wilder was obviously no fanatic. He sees anyone, even pagans, as capable of the inner glow of option one. Yet Wilder’s novel gently but firmly implies that the child born in Bethlehem offers humanity the best hope of maintaining a life free from commodification. I cannot follow him there. While the priest of Apollo shows Wilder’s faith to be nuanced, The Woman of Andros still contains the notion that the cruel ancient world needed to be redeemed by the healing power of Christ. Aside from its misunderstanding of pre-Christian culture and religion, this view ignores the fact that the coming of Christianity hardly ushered in an era of peace and love. Even the softer idea offered by Wilder’s characterization of the priest of Apollo, that humanity needs some form of religious belief to helpfully codify option one, doesn’t work for me. I have known many sincere people of various religious beliefs. While plenty follow option one, quite a few follow option two. They seem to justify this by pointing to their mere belief as proof of their decency. Thus believing, they are free to mock people in pain, laugh at the misfortunes of others, relish their material success, and dismiss the pleas of those whom life has placed beneath them. It has always seemed to me that they worship a remarkably indulgent deity.
While the last section may hint at my private beliefs, I can say that I am also intimately acquainted with many secular-minded people, several of whom are politically left-wing. Some of these people have a passionate disdain for religion and frequently proclaim their sympathy for the downtrodden. Yet many of these same people, when faced with tests of compassion and mercy among their own families and friends, are content to sneer and demand to know what that person can offer them. Still, many secularists I know do the exact opposite and follow option one through thick and thin.
As someone who agrees with Wilder that option one is essential to attaining full humanity, I am confused and frightened by this novel and how it squares (and doesn’t square) with what I’ve seen of the world. Can option one be turned into a convenient system for all to follow? If there is no clear set of rules to, will option one always be elusive while option two stands stark and clear? Wilder seems to anticipate this with Chrysis’s prayer, eventually adopted by Pamphilus: “I praise all living, the bright and the dark.” Of course, this statement, like option one, leaves more questions than answers and insists on being its own reward. For many, this will always be impossible. Fair enough, I suppose. Just as long as those devotees of option two remember that the grinning Leno is never too far from shore.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Thornton Wilder's plays may have greater staying power in popular culture but his fiction has aged well, too. "Woman of Andros," his third book, surfaces ideas he'd go on to explore so unforgettably later in "Our Town" years later but this novella is a unique and affecting work in its own right too: a bittersweetly philosophical tale recounting impact of one hetaira, a highly cultured upper class woman existing outside the normal strictures of Ancient Greek society. Here, the woman in question Chrysis runs a literary salon, feared by the local female townsfolk, disregarded by the male elders, but embraced by the young men. Indeed, Chrysis acts as the island's female Socrates, teaching through quick-witted parables and the sharing of classics by Euripides, Sophocles, etc. by memory. What is the meaning of life? And can we celebrate it even when it causes pain? Wilder portrays a culture in which some tradition is habit, some useful despite seeming archaic. His gift at embedding scenes like a young girl's spiritual awakening through an earache or a son's falling asleep during his father's advice aren't overly worried about driving the narrative but they do help create a larger world.
This jewelbox novella brings me so much joy. It can be devoured over the course of a luxurious evening like a tasting dinner from a five-star chef. The prose begs to be read and reread so as to savor all the nuance and let your mind wonder what spice or subtle flavors have combined in a new way to give such pleasure. You can linger on the opening passage alone for twenty minutes. In such a short work Wilder asks all the eternal questions: How shall I live? How shall I love? How shall I meet my death? All the topics that he comes back around to in his brilliant play Our Town.
Wilder was an expert on classic Greek and Roman works and retells an old tale of Terrence here. It's a simple book in some respects, a reflection on coping with unrequited love and loss while pondering how and why life goes on. It's told with clear affection and understanding for Greek life in the times before Christ, and it makes that different culture accessible in a lyrical fashion.
The opening description of the Mediterranean was a delight, the language like poetry in prose!
Was a very quick read. Maybe it was my state of mind while reading it, but I was underwhelmed despite the possibly interesting love story. It seemed to linger on and on about trivial things, offering more profound thoughts only on occasion. It certainly was tranquil, but so much so that it bordered on boring. In terms of similar love stories, I'm reminded of The Sound of Waves, which I enjoyed immensely more. Anyways
This was a rather short novel and really, nothing much happened. But it's neither the story nor the character that made me give this a 4 star rating. It's the beautiful writing and the occasional spills of wisdom spoken mostly by the Chrysis, which are then reflected in actions and stances taken by the other characters.
Tengo que decir que pude leerlo hasta el final, aunque varias veces tuve que releer algunos pasajes para volver a encantarme. Solo no es mi estilo de lectura pero vale la pena leerlo .