Customer Reviews

They Were Counted (UNESCO Collection of Representative Works: European)

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I am not someone much given to extravagant praise, but I have no hesitation in awarding five stars to 'They were counted', a novel of very high quality indeed. I had only ever read of Count Miklos Banffy as foreign minister of Hungary in the 1920s. I had no idea that he was also an extremely accomplished novelist. His pace is leisurely, to be sure, but his writing is so good that this is hardly a failing. The novel paints a splendid picture of aristocratic life in Hungary circa 1905, but it possesses much more than historical interest. Banffy writes about his characters with intelligence, perception, and sympathy. I was rather taken aback to see Laszlo Gyeroffy described in one review as 'a heartless sybarite'. On reflection, I suppose the cap does fit - but Banffy presents even Laszlo in such a way that one cannot help feeling for him. The author is especially sensitive in his handling of relations between the sexes. The tortured romance between Balint and Adrienne is superbly delineated. May I offer readers one word of advice? Like many other really big novels - 'The Forsyte Saga' and 'Doctor Zhivago' spring to mind - this book can seem rather daunting at the start. The problem is simply that there are so many characters that it is difficult to lodge them in the mind. Do not worry! Most of them do not need to be followed closely. I will not spoil anyone's enjoyment if I state now that the ones to keep your eye on are Balint abady, Laszlo Gyeroffy, Adrienne Uzdy, Klara Kollonich, Egon Wickwitz, and Fanny Beredy. Incidentally, I do think that the publisher might have included some guidance as to how to pronounce Hungarian names. True, it is not strictly necessary, but my curiosity was aroused, and to satisfy it even partially I had to resort to the pronunciation pages of 'Teach Yourself Hungarian' in the city library. I congratulate Patrick Thursfield on his fine English translation and thank Arcadia Books for enabling English readers to become acquainted with an author who deserves to be much better known than he is.

I couldn't put this book down - a huge and completely gripping novel set in the last years of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. A portrait of society worthy of Dickens, with the historical sweep of Tolstoy and the psychological insights of Dostoevsky. I can't wait for the next volumes.

I agree completely with the 3 readers who have already reviewed this trilogy -- it is really excellent. I would expand on 3 points already touched upon:
1. The trilogy is absolutely 1st rate in conveying the historic atmosphere of the time -- the slow, inexorable fall into war of the Austro-Hungarian empire in the 1st decade and a half of the 20th century. Historical events are interspersed into the personal action of the novel really well, as Balint's parliamentary duties require him to keep up with, and react to, the latest international developments.
2. I can't think of another book that does as well at the nuances of courtship and the general interactions of the sexes. Accidental touches, displays of skin, words or silences that mean much more than they seem -- all this is done extremely well. Perhaps the only exception is the perfection of the coupling of Balint and Adrienne every single time they meet -- though of course overall their relationship is very far from trouble-free.
3. It is true that the reader need not try to remember every character -- Banffy is very good at reminding us about just enough of the background when a secondary character makes a later appearance. But for those reading all 3 volumes, I might suggest adding to a previous reviewer's list the characters of Laszlo's mother and the men in her life. She, and to some extent they, have some importance in the 3rd volume.
By the way, if you're traveling to Hungary, the books in this trilogy make great travel companions -- and your Hungarian acquaintances will be pleased at your knowledge of this classic of their country.

Wow. Here's something special.

I must admit that I was quite reluctant at first to engage this weighty piece of literature, fearing a never-ending parade of balls, operas, theatre and foxhunts described in minute detail, in a long eulogy to the old days of the Hungarian aristocracy. I was surprised to find that this book is exactly that, but it's told with such sensitive human insight and philosophical density that the reader can't help but feel at least a bit sympathetic.

While the setting is omnipresent in the book, the characters make it world-class literature. The essential thesis here is that, ultimately, the complacency afforded a luxurious and enormously inward directed life can only end in demise. Too much luxury, too little concern for what lies "outside," too much comfortable insularity presents all-too-tempting opportunities for those less fortunate. Rome, Russia, the United States, Austria-Hungary... take your pick. If you forget that you're not alone, you're sure to be reminded in the end.

Banffy tells this story allegorically through the two protagonists; sons of the nobility and cousins to each other, who are both doomed despite their vastly differing personalities. How many questions these two men present! Civic pride and engagement is not enough. Is solipsism really an escape? Is being in a position of responsibility enough to control your immediate community, or even yourself? Is peace always transient?

Read this masterpiece and be prepared to deal with issues like this. Ask yourself, "Who's knocking on the door now?"

A novel of manners, it takes some time to gather traction. Give it that time and the story sneeks up on you. It should make you think about where you're headed.

This is the first part of Banffy's Transylvanian trilogy. I have read all three in quick succession and found all three to be equally good. One reviewer said it was hard to keep track of the many characters. I found they were all so vivid it was not hard to remeber them. And Banffy has a great way of reminding the reader of who each person is.
I had more difficulty following all the minute details of Hungarian political developmets of the era. They should be of great interest especially to Hungarians and all those keen on European history, but others may get lost here and there. In my opinion, skipping some of the details one deems less interesting does not take away from the overall enjoyment of the books. The trilogy has a lot to offer for everyone who likes classical literature.
I enjoyed Banffy's books as much as I did "The Buddenbrooks" and "Les Thibaults," "War and Peace" and other great European novels. One could also describe them as Hungarian "Gone with the Wind." Highly recommended.

This classic of Hungarian literature is a superb fictionalized depiction of early 20th century Hungary and Austria, told primarily through the lives of two cousins. The cousins, Count Balint Abady and Count Laszlo Gyeroffy, are caught up in the world of the demise of the Austro-Hungarian empire, the resulting political and social upheavals, and a frivolous and decadent aristocracy. The lives of the counts, including the choices they make, are used by the author to comment on human nature and how choices they make impact the lives of many others. The novel very authentically depicts the broad tapestry of Hungarian society, from the lives of peasants, merchants, political leaders to the members of the aristocracy during this important period of history. The author, Miklos Banffy, is a terrific storyteller. A very remarkable novel - very highly recommended.

This book is the first part of a trilogy that constitutes a grand Hungarian national epic, set amongst the aristocracy in pre-WWI Austria-Hungary, more particularly Hungary, even more particularly the Transylvanian contingent. Banffy was very obviously influenced by War and Peace in the composition of this opus. In fact, I've never read two books that so resemble each other in style as Tolstoy's epic and this first part of the trilogy; So much so that I have no compunction in averring that if the prospective reader loved War and Peace, she/he will love this book. If not, not. The main character, so to speak, is Hungary herself. But also Count Balint Abady bears no slight resemblance to our author, Count Miklos Banffy, and the book is highly autobiographical.

The narrative is filled with lovely descriptive passages such as the following:

"The unexpected beauty of the moonlight made Balint catch his breath as he might have had he been startled by a sudden cry of fear. Coming from the hothouse atmosphere of the ballroom, it was like emerging into a wonderland as unreal and full of magic as a fairy tale. The azure sky merged into the far horizon; distance and nearness did not exist. The terrace was all in dark mysterious shadow, limited only by the faint horizontal line of the balustrade where here and there a carved stone arabesque gleamed faintly."

Not having read the other two books as of yet, the only other "character" which seems of prime import to me so far is the love between Balint and Adrienne. Separately, the two characters are a bit wooden. But their delicately blossoming amour is the type of love that one simply doesn't read about in present day novels.

Of course, one knows what is going to happen to Hungary when the year 1914 dawns upon the country. But the book also gives a deeply layered political background to what is leading up to the firing of the bullet that fells the Archduke.

I would, briefly, like to take exception to the attitude expressed by one reviewer that the "lesson" to be learned here is that one had better keep up with the times or one - and one's country - will be levelled. For one thing, it's a bit of a tautology. But, more importantly, Banffy seems to me extremely ambiguous about this aspect of the book, of history. Yes, change is inevitable. But what a lovely world is on the verge of vanishing at the end of this first book, what delicate and tender relations between the sexes. As Count Abady pauses to observe at one point:

"The street lamps shed pools of light in the mists of evening, iridescent, shining, as if filtered through a web of tears."

One might say the same of the light this book sheds on a lost world, a lost Hungary.

Is 5 star correct, or fair? I'm not sure. But I know that I was extremely into this book, and that having finished it not five minutes ago, it feels right. So there we are. It may be a bad idea, however, to give this a perfect review for the same reason that it often is to do the same for the first volume of a fantasy series -- it's not the whole story.

Ever since I saw this [...] I had been dying to read Bánffy's Transylvanian Trilogy. I love me a big epic, and once I'd learned to really appreciate War and Peace I was even more interested in something like this. It was not until I held the book in my hands that I saw a quote about it being "[a] wonderful swash-buckling novel full of duels." This made me even more excited, so let me point out that that quote is absolutely a misnomer. There are a total of two challenges issued in this near 600 pages, and both of them lead to anticlimactic ends. That, however, was not really what I'd wanted from the book in the first place, so I'm not complaining.

They Were Counted is largely caught up with two things that Bánffy knew a great deal about: sex and politics. There is a whole hell of a lot more, but it boils down to essentially those two things, and the differences between them in perception and in reality (sex is healthy but people say it's terrible/politics are self-serving but people say it's for the greater good). Through these, and many other smaller points that pop up, Bánffy makes his book do what all good writing should do -- get to a great number of universal points that we can all recognize but do not expect to come across. I couldn't have less in common with Transylvanian nobility from the turn of the 20th century, but I was able to identify with nearly every character in this novel at some point or another.

Which brings me to an important point: one of the best things Bánffy does is really get into every single head that he can and show us why the person is that way. A domineering step-mother, a rake, a coquette: the sorts of characters that are usually there to be "bad" are all human beings, and no one is really "the bad guy" at all. (Well... except one guy, who I hope will get his in a later part of the trilogy.) This is especially strong in his writing of female characters, I think, who so often are only there to spur along the male leads, or if they are fully-fledged they must be saintly and pure. The only of Bánffy's characters who is "virginal" is, in fact, a mother, and only comes across that way due to horrible circumstances.

Bánffy's willingness to get into most people's heads is also useful in that he's showing us a window into a cultural moment that we, as English speakers, know almost nothing about. (His novel is considered a CLASSIC in Hungarian, but we only have the one translation, which is good, by the way, even if the copy-editing does not match it. Not by a long shot.) Transylvania is a fascinating place (all we think is Dracula, because we're idiots), and the lives of the Hungarian nobles there are both captivating and ridiculous at the same time. Bánffy makes no secret of his desire to show the ridiculous excesses and disconnectedness of his subjects, and so we often find ourselves entirely drawn into the dramas of these nobles -- only to be wrenched away from it by a glimmer of the hardships that the normal, mostly Romanian folks, are going through. It's masterfully done, and I cannot wait to see how it pays off by the end of the trilogy.

There is so much more to say, but I cannot begin to remember it all. They Were Counted is a beautiful book that sweeps one up into its settings and characters so totally that even I, who is usually so much about adventures, didn't even notice when long stretches would go by in which little actually happened. It never felt slow to me, and it never felt like the book was turning its wheels, it's only when I look back that I realize that, in total, there are no great big events throughout most of the novel. It certainly deserves to be a classic in our language just as much as it does in Hungarian (if not moreso, for the unfamiliar world it lets us view) and I would urge anyone with an eye for these old-fashioned sorts of novels (but with, in some places, a more modern sensibility, due to the times in which Banffy wrote) to give it a read.