free download here - Michael Llewellyn-Smith
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Epilogue<br />
‘Seventy years old, seventy goddam years, and you know why?<br />
Listen to me, son, you know what my father says to me? He says to<br />
me, don’t go with whores, and he was goddam right, the sonovabitch.<br />
That’s why I look fifty today, because I don’t go with bad women. You<br />
listen to me, son, you find a clean woman and settle down. . . .’<br />
And so on and on. It would be unfair to write about Crete without<br />
mentioning such things. And it is not surprising that t<strong>here</strong> are times of<br />
boredom on an island whose people are content to sit around all day.<br />
Of course, these times can be minimized.<br />
If one must ‘sum up’ Crete, then one must find out what she has<br />
meant to the Cretans and the Greeks. That is what this book has been<br />
about. I wrote in 1960 of the village Asi Gonia: ‘Her simple message<br />
rang in my ears as we came down to Canea and civilization:<br />
The courage of man is great wealth;<br />
Eat, drink and enjoy this deceitful world.’<br />
It is time to see what this message has meant to modern Cretan writers<br />
and how they have treated of it in their work.<br />
T<strong>here</strong> have been three distinguished Cretan novelists: John Kondylakis,<br />
Nikos Kazantzakis and Pendelis Prevelakis. All were preoccupied<br />
by Crete. Kondylakis was born in 1861, and t<strong>here</strong>fore grew up in<br />
Turkish Crete, in the village of Viannos in the east. At the age of sixteen<br />
he broke off his studies at the Gymnasium in Athens in order to<br />
return to Crete and fight the Turks. After the revolt he worked as a<br />
clerk in Canea and read prodigiously, then went back to Athens to try<br />
journalism. Apart from a period spent teaching in Crete – which<br />
inspired one of his best works, When I was a Teacher – he lived and wrote<br />
in Athens. He returned to Crete only at the very end of his life. The<br />
trip was a bitter disappointment. The island was changed. The excitement<br />
and colour which was associated with his youth, was gone. He<br />
died in hospital in Heraklion in 1920.<br />
Kondylakis lived in exciting times for Greece and Crete, and was<br />
fortunate in the time of his death, for the Smyrna disaster two years later<br />
was a horrific shock to men of his generation. His work was a perpetual<br />
dialogue with Crete. In his journalism he wrote directly of the Cretan<br />
issue, and his stories are set in Crete. Patouchas, the most famous, is<br />
about an awkward Cretan lad growing up and falling in love and finding<br />
himself (Patouchas means Big-Feet); and apart from all else, it is a<br />
wonderful picture of life in a Cretan village in the last century, far more<br />
accurate than Kazantzakis’s picture, not only because Kondylakis<br />
knew Turkish Crete at first hand better than Kazantzakis did, but<br />
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