‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin’ Review: Aesthetic Prose in WWII Greece

“Corelli’s Mandolin,” more commonly known as “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,” is a great tale of love, of life, of Greece, of war and of peace. It’s art: colorful in its style, and insightful and accurate in its content. It’s as heartwarming as it is heartbreaking. The novel by Louis de Bernières, which in 1995 received the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for best overall book, is as much a love story as it is political satire. The international bestseller was adapted into a movie in 2001.

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” features many vivid personalities of which Pelagia, Captain. Corelli, and Dr. Iannis are the main characters. Side characters of the book don’t just fulfill supporting roles, though. For example, the perspectives of Carlo Piero Guercio, a closeted gay Italian soldier, and Mandras, Pelagia’s fiancé, shed light on the endless hardship and brutality of the Greco-Italian war in mountainous Northern Greece. Meanwhile the character of Günther Weber, a German soldier, is the personification of an average perpetrator in the Wehrmacht. These and several other vibrant characters enrich the narrative.

Critics are divided on whether “Corelli” is a great work of poetic fiction or a dull bit of ballooned up writing. I think it’s the former, and I think a big part of the perception comes down to an ability and/or willingness to appreciate more aesthetic, less concise prose.

Summary: Greece, Love and Politics Around World War II

The book is divided up in three parts, which can broadly be summarized as pre-war, at-war and post-war. Only the middle section really features the title character (and his musical instrument). The pre-war parts of the book shouldn’t be considered as a simple intro. Though it fulfills all the criteria for an introduction to the characters, style, and environment, it’s an integral part of the story and I would advise readers not to skim over them. Rather enjoy the calm before the storm and let yourself dream of the fairy tale world that is Cephalonia (or Kefalonia), Greece at the time.

In simple writing terms, the Cephalonia-at-war-part would be the main part of the book. Here our characters get in trouble, seek solutions and struggle.

But unlike this description would suggest, the post-war era doesn’t bring relief and solutions to all the problems faced during wartime. Rather it’s much more life-like, and problems do continuously need solutions.

This last part, mostly because it is so unlike most other novels and so much like real life, is actually my favorite part. Life doesn’t follow a suspension curve, and struggles are most of the time not resolved in a happy-ever-after-fashion. Real life isn’t like that, and though “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” is clearly a work of art, it’s sometimes hauntingly realistic in its refusal to be written like a typical novel.

Few Books Like ‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin’

I find it hard to compare “Corelli’s Mandolin” to other books. I think it stands out in storytelling, style and narrative among other historical works of fiction. The magnitude of the story reminds me of Ken Follet, while the style could be seen as a mixture of English classics by Dickens or Wilde and Russians like Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. Comparisons that in some ways de Bernières might not live up to and in others surpass.

Personally, I hate love stories. “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” is the first love novel I thoroughly enjoyed. Though “Corelli’s Mandolin” is a love story, it’s also historical fiction, political satire, comedy and tragedy all at once.

Audience and Genre: A Book for Grecophiles and Fans of Beautiful Writing

Louis de Bernière’s “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” will appeal to a wide variety of readers. Still, I think people who have spent some time in Greece and are familiar with Greek peculiarities, customs, figures of speech, etc. will have an even better time reading it. The book is full of authentically Greek figures of speech, insults, customs and culture. It does a great job at portraying Greek mentality — sometimes as charmingly as possible and at times as brutally honest as possible. But don’t mistake these instances for false stereotypes. Greeks and people who know Greece will recognize them as true.

Perspective: Frequent Changes in That Add Color and Depth

“Corelli’s Mandolin” is not told from one coherent perspective. Rather the author uses different perspectives to highlight different aspects of the narrative. In the beginning these perspective shifts can be a little bit confusing, especially as the changes are not (always) marked, by a chapter headline for example.
So already the second chapter is told from Mussolini’s perspective, an angle that is not repeated later in the book. Then it switches to the writings of Carlo, his confession, which only much later in the story is read by the other characters. In this case the reader knows much more than the characters about Carlo. In other parts of the story it’s sometimes a clear third person telling of the events from the perspective of one of the characters. And then again it sometimes changes so that one chapter is told from two or even three perspectives at the same time.

That structure now sounds very confusing to read and, as mentioned, in the beginning it is. But, as a reader, one gets used to this style of storytelling very quickly. The different perspectives serve to endear the reader to all characters alike, however appalling their actions might be at times.

There are two main villains in the book, and in one case we get extensive knowledge of his motives and experiences. We bear witness to his path to “the dark side.” In the other case, we get but a small glimpse into his psyche, but the motive for his actions nonetheless are clear and as appalling as it is even understandable.

In summary, I would say that while in the first few chapters the rapid changes can be quite confusing, the reader gets used to them very quickly. In the end they become an integral part of the storytelling.

Three Cs: Compelling, Clear, Concise

Editorial Note: We believe these three factors are important for evaluating general writing quality across every aspect of the book. Before you get into further analysis, here’s a quick breakdown to clarify how we’re using these words:

• Compelling: Does the author consistently write in a way that would make most readers emotionally invested in the book’s content?
• Clear: Are most sentences and parts of the book easy enough to read and understand?
• Concise: Are there sections or many sentences that could be cut? Does the book have pacing problems?

Compelling: Characters With Life

The characters of “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” are, even now after having finished the book, still dear to me. I’ve laughed, cried and grown with them during the time of reading the book. As it should be with a good book, they’ve become like friends to me. Most of them at least. But not because the side characters are shallow. Much more because they feel so real that — just like in real people — some you like, some you dislike.

And just like with real friendships, they also need time to develop. Yes, the story starts off slow, but then, at some point toward the end of the war, it really picks up pace. I think that’s a great strength of the book. When there’s not a lot happening in terms of action, the writing is slow, longer descriptions etc. Then, when the story picks up pace, a lot happens inside a few pages. To me it felt like life. When you’re young, a year is an eternity. When you get older, 10 pass in the blink of an eye.

Clear: High Re-Reading Value

De Bernières writes very clearly. Nonetheless, I chose to re-read many sections simply because it’s such a joy. The way Bernières writes isn’t always straightforward or concise. It’s always very enjoyable, though. He chooses his words precisely and with great competence, always following a goal and always achieving the exact effect he (presumably) aimed for. His sentences can be convoluted and long, but it always serves either to make a joke, to show an aspect of a character or to set the stage for the action.

I didn’t notice any major typos or other editing flaws, as well as no plot holes or badly explained decisions from the characters. The basic reading experience is thus very effortless. You’d understand next to everything on the first read-through, ye you might still often choose to re-read a section. There are a lot of small gems hidden somewhere in between the lines or inside a long sentence.

Concise: Not So Much — A Fair Point of Criticism?

A criticism that you regularly read online of “Corelli’s Mandolin” would be that the author doesn’t get to the point; that his sentences are way too long and too posh or fluffy. While I can see and understand that criticism, this fact for me is exactly one of the main strengths of the book. Bernières isn’t in a hurry to tell his story. He takes the time to enjoy the process of good writing and he always gives us, the readers, something to discover, smirk or laugh about. He makes funny quips, uses heavy irony or comes up with very imaginative ways to say very simple things.

Could it be shorter and more concise? Sure, absolutely! Would that make the book better? I’d say, quite the opposite, it would take a big chunk of life out of the text. It would take away a lot of the fun I had while reading it, always stumbling across the next funny few lines.

Character Development: A Daughter and Father Duo, and a Rich Supporting Cast

To delve into character development and to outline the paths the characters are taking would completely spoil the book. Apart from a few main plot points, the aging and changing of the characters is the whole story.

There are several main characters and semi-main characters in the story whose lives we follow throughout the book. As mentioned before, the two most important ones are Pelagia and Dr. Iannis, her father. Pelagia is a young beautiful woman who falls in love twice, once in a “teenage way” and once in a more grown up way. But falling in love, unlike many other love novels, isn’t her only job. She’s spirited and smart, resourceful and generally all round remarkable.

Dr. Iannis, it seemed to me, sometimes represents the author as he’s writing the book. In the story Dr. Iannis is writing his “Personal history of Cephalonia” and the struggles he experiences in this pursuit seemed very much like the author sharing some of his own difficulties with the writing process. Dr. Iannis is a father to Pelagia and a father-figure to several other characters. Another reason why he seemed to me like the embodiment of the author: A father watching over, caring for and worrying about his family vs. a writer doing the same for his characters.

This much and so little said in a few lines about the characters in “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin.” Not many fiction books I have read have so endeared me to all the characters in the story. I really didn’t feel as if there’s any kind of tropes and worn out, template-like characters. Even the smallest side characters get interesting flaws and cute little habits or relationships.

I think the only time you could apply the “template-like criticism” to a character or two characters rather is for the Royalist and the Communist. These two really don’t have many too many characteristics.

At the same time, I would already excuse that shortcoming, as these two are clearly meant somewhat as place-holders for hundreds of thousands of Greeks in that time period. They’re not meant to be individuals. They’re meant to represent huge swaths of the Greek population during the war who had little to unify them, except their shared patriotism. In the face of foreign invaders, this common ground went a far enough way to make them friends until the end. In some cases, these friendships endured all the way through a civil war in which they were pitted against each other.

Story: A Shortest History of Greece — Or a Personal One

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” doesn’t just tell a fictional story of fictional people in a real village on a real Greek Island. It tells a very real story of Greece: Greece in the late ‘30s, Greece during the occupation, Greece during the civil war and Greece after. A little like Dr. Iannis’ “Personal history of Cephalonia,” “Corelli’s Mandolin” doesn’t list dates and occurrences, factually narrating events. There are no numbers for the amount of people deported, killed, starved during and after the occupation, but it offers quite the insight on what life must have been like. An insight not dictated by a personal narrator, but completely painted with brush strokes of a few individuals.

At the outbreak of war in Europe, Greece itself was under a somewhat fascist regime. Having had somewhat confusing adventures in democracy, and a failed invasion of Turkey, the country was in dire economical and societal circumstances. Metaxa, the fascist dictator, tried to align his country with the Axis powers, but was repeatedly rebuffed and turned closer to the British. Still, Greece was always trying to stay out of the war of the Great Powers.

In late 1940, in his infinite “wisdom,” Mussolini decided to disband most of the army and just a few weeks later sent them into the oncoming winter and the Greek mountain ranges of Epirus. The underprepared, understaffed, underequipped, undermotivated and unfed Italian troops were met by a highly motivated and skilled Greek army, fighting on their own mountainous territory. Unsurprisingly, after only a few months the Greeks were starting to take territory behind the Italian starting positions. A complete debacle.

In April 1941 the Germans invaded through Bulgaria and cut behind the defenders. By the end of the month, Greece had capitulated to the Germans. Greece got maybe the most favorable surrender conditions of all the occupied nations of Europe. Most POWs were allowed to return home soon after the armistice was signed.

Resistance to the occupation started from the beginning, but was weak and characterized mostly by infighting between the different resistance groups: the Communists and the Royalists and Fascists.

These events give the framework in which the story of Pelagia and her community unfolds. The island of Cephalonia is occupied by a joint force of Germans and Italians. While the Germans run their part of the island as a tight ship, the Italians are much more lax and mostly enjoy the sweet life far away from any front line. Here Pelagia meets Corelli and his Mandolin.

We see perspectives from most sides of the war and occupation, although the German one may feel “missing.” Which it really isn’t, as the harrowing experience of fighting in the freezing cold in the mountains of Epirus didn’t involve any Germans. The story unfolds very naturally and gives a great insight into life in war, life under occupation and life as a (somewhat involuntary) occupier.

Knowing a bit of history and having a little background information on the invasion(s) of Greece is certainly a benefit to reading the book. It gives more depth to the experiences of the actors, but it’s not required for enjoying the story.

Prose: Bernières Unmistakable Style

Arguably the greatest name associated with “magical realism” is Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who’s had a great influence on Bernières, while the latter spent his most formative reading years in Southern America. Bernières’ earlier works bear clear marks of these formative years. He writes magically real, as well about South America.

In his fourth novel, the one we are discussing here, “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,” he’s dropped this style in all but a few instances. There’s the scene with the non-venomous snakes and maybe a few scenes including goats where his fascination with “magical realism” still shines through. But, all in all, “Corelli” is much more on the realistic side of story-telling rather than on the magical side.

If the impression for the reader should arise that Louis de Bernières still employs “the brick face” describing the magical, I would put that down to too little experience and knowledge of Greece. What many central and northern Europeans consider “magical” or “unrealistic” is quite the opposite on many Greek islands. If, for example, the descriptions of the water and air of Cephalonia seem over the top to some readers, these readers have clearly never for themselves had the privilege to experience the in fact stunning air and water of Cephalonia.

Bernières writing in “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” does walk several tight-ropes. It bridges gaps in between the realism of a historical novel, the romanticism of poetry of old, and the imagination of a love novel. His lengthy descriptions could be boring to people who don’t enjoy aesthetic prose, his excursions into the mind of seemingly unimportant characters could be disregarded by people who read for the plot and not the writing, and the struggles with writing Dr. Iannis’ experiences could seem unhinged by people who don’t know the struggles of writing.

All in all, de Bernières’ style is unmistakably his own; it’s imaginative, it’s descriptive, it’s novel and it’s entertaining. People who would read the book just for having read it and just wanting to know about the plot might as well watch the movie (this is not an endorsement for the movie, but we’ll get to that). Reading “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” requires the ability to enjoy writing just for the sake of it.

Dialogue: Natural and Useful

The dialogue in “Corelli” always seemed to further both the narrative and the understanding of characters. The different people speaking all have a distinct voice, which is apparent by manners of speaking and words chosen. The dialogues all seem to come very naturally and feel neither forced nor out of place.

Setting: The Kaphenion — A Case Study on the Experience of a Place That Excludes the Reader

I’ve already described the setting of war-time and -torn Greece, I’ve mentioned the descriptions of the astounding beauty of Cephalonia, and I’ve touched upon the peculiarities of life in this small village. These elements all might tie perfectly together in the place of the Kaphenion. Often mistranslated as a tavern or bar, a Kaphenion is less of a dedicated place for coffee than for men. Still today Kaphenia are a hallmark of any Greek neighborhood or village. Today, but just as much in the old days, they are a kind of café, sometimes with a veranda, more often without one, where mostly men meet to drink. Unlike the “café” name suggests, the drinks are usually liquor, typically ouzo during the day and raki at night. Still today, smoking is mostly allowed indoors, and the furniture consists of nothing more than chairs and tables. Decor is scarce, barring some local peculiarities. In fishing towns you’d find nets and such accessories, for example.

The Kaphenion in “Corelli” isn’t described very much, except for the existence of it, a radio inside, and the prohibition of women within its walls. While that vagueness could make it seem like an ominous place, for readers who know a bit of Greece, it needs no further descriptions.

It is here, where the big questions of global importance are discussed until exhaustion, it’s here where local politics are decided and it’s here the traditionally patriarchal village society has its political, cultural and societal center.

Because we follow the story mostly through the eyes of Pelagia — an undoubtedly unusual woman for her time, but nonetheless still subject to at least some ancient traditions and customs — we never really get to see the inside of the Kaphenion. We get to know of it every time Dr. Iannis leaves in the morning for his smoke and coffee. But we don’t really get to participate in the seemingly almost sacred tradition of discussion in it. We hear of what goes on inside. We find out all the other women of the village know just as well what goes on inside, but don’t get to participate.

While some narrative actions take place inside it, we only hear of it later. Which might make it an unimportant place to cover in this review, but I think that this exclusion we experience makes the reader even more part of the village society. We get to experience the societal structures, we feel the outraged eyes of the men upon us when Pelagia does enter this one time, and we feel the importance of this place exactly because we are excluded from it.

It’s the last piece, the last place in the story’s setup that makes it so realistic and makes us experience the story first hand. Even though, or rather exactly because, we don’t get to take part in it.

Rhetoric: The Writing Process, and Author’s Thoughts on the Relationship Between Occupiers and the Occupied

I’ve said that I think Dr. Iannis’ writing reflects de Bernières writing (process). I think it does another thing quite well, too: It gives us an insight on his politics. It offers less than the whole setup of the story and the human emotions and the human experiences in the face of catastrophe. Less, but more explicitly.

Dr. Iannis writes in his “Personal history of Cephalonia” quite a lot about different occupations of the island, different overlords and the relationship of the islanders to their many oppressors. What becomes apparent here is the experiences de Bernières has made as a member of the people who did most of the oppressing in the past and the experiences he had living in countries that were historically oppressed. He has a certain lighthearted cynicism about it. A kind of mentality that can often be found among Greeks, and, or so I presume, maybe in some Southern American countries as well. He knows of the horrors the various occupations have produced, he knows of the injustices that were committed against the islanders, but he also sees other facets. He notes the deep hate the inhabitants of Cephalonia have against the Turks, although so much of their culture comes from Ottoman times. He talks of the veneration they have for the Brits, although so much ill came from them, and he talks of the closeness that is felt on the island toward Venetians, which is forgotten under the Italian occupation and then remembered under German rule.

While this could seem biased or stereotyped in this retelling here, in his writing Bernières exhibits a great deal of tolerance for ambiguity and a clear understanding of nuance. The writings of Dr. Iannis are the space where these political opinions are most clearly expressed, but the whole story, in its telling of real human stories, is a clear expression of de Bernières’ political beliefs and viewpoints. They don’t disturb the story. Rather they are one thread, one weave that ties it together.

Cultural and Political Significance: An Anti-War Novel With Other Messages

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” is an anti-war book. And this message is driven home strongly. More so it’s a book about humanity. While its setting is a historical one and the book wasn’t written “recently,” its message is extremely important in the current political situation. Also, it’s certainly not the first anti-war book and also wouldn’t rank very highly in that category, but since it’s not only an anti-war book, that fact is not a drawback.

Critiquing the Critics: Many People Dislike ‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,’ and I See Why (I Just Disagree)

“Tedious drivel,” “inventive, emotionally sweeping,” “I don’t think the book’s all that bad, but I don’t think it’s worthy of the adulation it receives.” The critiques are divided, to say the least. “Never then have I been so appalled as I began to warm to the story and the characters even despite myself.”

Some, like me, have nothing but praise for the book, the setting, the story, the characters. Others find it incredibly boring, badly written, tedious and not getting to any point at all.

Although I’ve said that this book will mostly appeal to people who appreciate aesthetic prose, know a little about Greece and so on, I can absolutely see where the negative reviewers are coming from. What I think is witty and well thought out, what I think is fun and enjoyable reading, others are bored with and criticize. It’s a platitude to say it’s down to personal taste, and I will attempt to narrow it down further.

The divide among the critics is de Bernière’s style of writing, his drawn out description, his witty (or pretentious) remarks, the frequent changes in perspective. The ones enjoying the book are enamoured with his particular style, the ones bored with him are annoyed and think he’s pretending to reinvent the wheel. While I can see where these critics are coming from, the ones that don’t love his descriptive style, I don’t understand the critics who say his characters are dull. They might very well be based on stereotypes and personality templates, but they interact with each other vividly, their individuality is poignant (most, and each one has a rich backstory and well-explained motivations. I really don’t see anything wrong with the character development and their liveliness.

Now, onto one of the most common — and I think ridiculous — criticisms of “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin”: We don’t get to meet the name-giving character until a few hundred pages into the book. The book isn’t called “Captain Corelli, and the great Mandolin,” it isn’t part of a seven-book epic about a special wizard, Herman Hesse doesn’t mention the two wolves in “Steppenwolf” until somewhere toward the end of the book, “Anna Karenina” has so many characters that you lose track of them inside of the first ten pages, and arguably the most important character in “Faust,” Mephisto, isn’t even mentioned in the title. Are any of these books any less valuable to readers, because the correspondence between title and name-giving character is somehow off? No, of course they aren’t. So calling the whole first part of the book “longest prologue ever”, just because Corelli isn’t in it, is not only hugely unfair, to me it shows a wholly inapt approach to reading in general. Enough of the rant for now though, you’ll get enough of that once we get into the movie adaptation.

Book Aesthetic: Simplistic Cover Art

There are only a few versions of the book’s cover and, all are designed along the same lines. It’s a light or dark blue background on which there’s a mandolin drawn and several other figures. Another version has a more “leafy” design.
Overall the cover art is subtle and also nothing special. The cover does its job as it’s simple but appealing. Certainly not a great looker for any book shelf. But, then again, a book isn’t about its cover.

‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin’: Book vs. Movie

As a starter and fair warning of my bias, I’d like to say that I am most certainly not a fan of Nicolas Cage. Another bias you should be aware of is that I am always skeptical of movie adaptations of books.

I’d love to report that the movie showed me how completely wrong I am with all my presumptions and that it’s a great piece of entertainment living up to the high standards the book set. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, I can’t.

The movie was a complete disappointment. Or rather not, because I didn’t expect much from the beginning, but it was still a pretty poor experience. It leaves out several important and enjoyable storylines, and it absolutely did not do justice to the great characters and narrative in the book.

Most viewers and critics agree with me. The film received a 50% audience approval score on Rotten Tomatoes from more than 25K ratings and a 5.9 out of 10 on IMDb. Oddly, the Amazon Prime version has a much higher score, perhaps because it is easier to appreciate when you’re watching from home instead of going to a theater.

I think the only positive thing you could say about the movie is that it produced images and still shots that the restaurants on Cephalonia could print on their menus and hang on their walls.

Reviewer’s Personal Opinion: A Part of My Life

My copy of the book has a note in it from the first time I finished it:

“I have never laughed and cried so much at a good book. Now that I close it, I lose a good friend on a day a good friend left. But I gain so many friendly memories from these words that, even though I cry, I am not sad.”

These words were written under the impression the end of the book left with me, and the many great memories I had from times when I was reading it. For months I recommended it to all my friends and gave it as a Christmas present to my girlfriend.

This book had a huge impact on me. It took me a long time to read the first time, but not because I couldn’t have just gobbled it up in a few weeks (like I did the second time around). Rather, because there were so many sections of it that I wanted to mull over. Especially the part where Dr. Iannis talks about love and how a good relationship is like two trees that intertwine over time and that have to grow common roots, so as to keep it alive when “being in love” and being mad with each other fades after some time.

There were many other sections that stuck with me. Many criticize the ending for being unimaginative. I think it’s a great portrayal of actual life, not a romantic or literary perception.

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” will forever hold a special space in my heart and on my bookshelf. It’s given me so much, and I still learn so much just by thinking of things de Bernières said.

Honestly, I was surprised when I read the multitude of bad reviews of the book. But writing one myself, I can see where the disappointed are coming from. It shows that not only knowledge and/or preferences are important, but that a certain outlook and perception of life and reality is common to the fans of this book.
I wanted to review this book because I think it has important lessons for our time. Surely there are other more pressing, necessary, and radically political books out there that need to be read right now. This one, however, offers an important general lesson in humanity. Its love story, its tales of hardship, its portrayal of a certain normality can serve as a reminder of what we are heading at and what needs to be prevented right now.

‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin Review’: Worth Trying, Even If You Agree With the Critical Reviews

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” is a great book. I don’t think I need to repeat again what it’s a great tale of, but it is.
Summing up this review I’d say, the second time around, I can understand the critics of the book and why some people don’t like it. I’d still say that anybody interested in reading the book should absolutely go for it, because chances are that you might like it a lot.
I’ve said everything there is to say, and I can wholeheartedly recommend the book to anybody (and I will continue doing that)!

Buying and Rental Options

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” is the original title of the novel. It was released in the U.S. as “Corelli’s Mandolin.” As far as we can tell, there aren’t any significant differences between the two versions.

E-Commerce Text and Audio Purchases

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