Customer Reviews

A Time of Gifts

5 star:		(23)
4 star:		(9)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

This book is an extreme rarity. It is one that I cannot imagine ANYONE NOT enjoying. Strapping young precocious Fermor, bounced out of school and knocking about London with some chums awaiting, in Fermor's case, with many misgivings, the military rigours of Sandyhurst, decides to chuck it all and go gadding about Europe during the interwar years toward Constantinople at the age of eighteen (He turns nineteen about halfway through.). The result, culled from memories and diaries that survived, and penned decades later, is a bouncing picaresque jaunt through the heartland of Europe, all seen (save for the occasional aside) through the coruscating eyes of youth, is one I simply can't imagine anyone wanting to miss, especially given that this is a world now lost to us almost completely. Interlarded herein are disquisitions on literature, architecture, and history, history, history (a witches' brew of real and apocryphal). Add to this delightfully unguided rather than misguided quest a cast of characters ranging from the homeless seeking shelter to the aristocrat in his schloss whom the author chances upon the way and you have a simply irresistible and sui-generis narrative. You have this book which, regardless of how many grey hairs age has snowed upon your head, will make you feel young and in love with the world again.----5 lofty, swirling stars.

You are certainly off the beaten path if you are reading this review. But trust me, you're in a good spot. It was an unintended and yet happy serendipity that I bought Fermor's "A Time of Gifts" at a used book shop at the far end of Crete, in Paleohora. It wasn't until later that I appreciated the coincidence. I thought my prep school education and university BA in ancient history and German grounded me pretty well in things European. After reading Fermor, I realize I "don't know jack". This is a great book. The writing is fine, the content superb. It is wonderful for all the adventures and carefree wanderings. Yet this story is poignant: not only for the glimpses of what is to come in WWII, but also because Fermor passes through a world that is gone forever. His journey would be impossible today. Read it and keep it. Happily, I came across the second book, "Between the Woods and the Water" in another used bookstore, the Green Apple in San Francisco.

A TIME OF GIFTS is Fermor's lively autobiographical account of his walking tour of 1930s Europe as a charming, precocious and astonishingly brilliant teenage dropout. It encompasses not only the rake's progress, but acute observations of persons and places of that now vanished time, and remarkably erudite discourses on art, architecture, literature, history, anthropology, ethnography, linguistics, geography, and theories of cultural influence, as well. A TIME OF GIFTS is as enthralling as it is difficult. If the reader is willing to cross-check Fermor's frequent unexplained references and allusions; to consult a good dictionary with disheartening regularity; to become accustomed to Fermor's complex English prose style that, at times, is akin to learning a new language; and to not become frustrated with his dizzying flights of descriptive fancy that leave the reader grasping at his coattails, one will thoroughly enjoy this book. In other words, A TIME OF GIFTS is not for lightweights: it is great art; and great art demands one's full attention. And if one gives it one's full attention, one will emerge on the other side giddy with accomplishment . . . that same elated feeling one might recall from college having completed challenging courses taught by demanding but rewarding professors, done well, and expanded one's intellectual horizons beyond imagining.

While A TIME OF GIFTS is about many things, a central theme remains constant: the kindness of strangers. That and that we are children inhabiting an earthly paradise called life who stand to reap the richest gifts from the most unlikely sources by merely playing nicely with others.

Fermor's account (first published in the U.K. in 1977 and published in the U.S. this past year) continues in a second volume entitled BETWEEN THE WOODS AND THE WATER (first published in the U.K. in 1986 and published in the U.S. this past year). A third and concluding volume, not yet published, is widely expected, although Fermor is now in his nineties.

`A Time of Gifts' is a delightful travelogue, even though the sites and sounds are long gone. Fermor paints a picture of the life every young man wants to lead - well-funded itinerant travel, nearly effortless sociability, and a seemingly endless nightlife. Together with its companion piece, `Between the Woods and the Water,' this historical post-card is required reading for anyone with the combined interests of travel, history, language, and social frivolity in pre-war Europe.

The narrative structure is an open letter to a friend. Every region receives a minor academic treatment that sets the tone for the young Fermor's adventures. Each adventure is a short glimpse into the man that was to become both a world-class writer and a guerrilla fighter who managed to both capture and trade poetry with a German General during World War II. Much like the man himself (equal parts scamp and scholar), the book mixes extraordinary academic details with what amounts to a lucid walk between drunken visits.

The depth of the author's knowledge of central European history, language, art, and architecture is almost depressing. While reading (and between trips to the dictionary), I found myself wondering whether or not the average American high school student would ever study a tenth of material Fermor picked up through personal reading. On the other hand, it is refreshing to see someone put so much historical and cultural context behind each of his encounters in foreign lands. Small wonder that he was accepted everywhere he went.

The one regret I have is the sparse treatment of Holland. Perhaps it is because this was the first stop, but the author does not seem to get his feet wet until he crosses into Germany. Perhaps it is because the country is too small. Perhaps it is too similar to the author's home country. At any rate, it feels a shame to neglect the one place that managed to nurture both the Dutch Masters and the Tulip Craze.

All in all, this was one of the most rewarding books I have read in years. I would recommend it to anyone.

A phenomenally rich and evocative journey through pre-WWII Europe. This is one the most memorable books I've ever read. Paddy writes with vivid attention to detail and from an astounding learned perspective on people, places and possibilities in the history he lived through. (first part of a trilogy - the last installment of which is eagerly awaited!!)

This book should be in any traveller's library. Wonderful writing and a joy to read again and again. Why are the books descibing this epic journey out of print? It's a crime.

The travel book, if you will, to end all travel books. Opening this book to read became a delicious escape to old Europe. On foot, no less, via inns, alehouses, farmhouses, schlosses, castles. Meeting peasants, barons, burgemeisters, Nazis. An education in history, architecture and literature. Unctious descriptions of sight, sound, smell and landscape. Guiding you is a brilliant, erudite mind and a gloriously articulate writer.
The English language has never sounded so beautiful. Makes you want to don a "rucksack", pack it with some precious books and a journal, and start walking.

Patrick Fermor was booted from school in Britain as a teen. His curiosity, hunger for experience, and immense energy were ill-matched to the almost monastic academic setting. Some time later, in 1933 and 1934, those same energies prompted him to walk across central Europe, eventually to reach Constantinople. This account of that long walk, put to paper years later from memory and from diaries, is one of the clearest, most poignant glimpses into what remained of Old Europe before Naziism, Communism, and the global economy erased it from the cultural map. It is also one of the great coming-of-age memoirs, a "sort of investiture with the toga virilis", in Fermor's words, literate, ecstatic, radiant with fresh and creative observation. The force of Fermor's energy, courage, and intelligence pulses in every line, whether he is describing a beautiful Hungarian gypsy girl or the influence of the Italic counter-reformation on Bohemian vernacular architecture. To the young wanderer, beauty is to be found everywhere, and no beauty is so sublime that it can't be described, puzzled over, marveled at, and taken to heart. My experience in reading this book is that my native hesitancy and trepidation feel suddenly inconsequential. Again in Fermor's words: "My journay had taken on a new dimension and all prospects glowed."

There is no good reason that this text has escaped the college required-reading lists. In the short time since I discovered it and read it, it has become central in my thinking about European history, about modern literature, and about my own youth. It has also rekindled in me a desire to see the world. In other words, it has startled my drowsy youthfulness into full wakefulness and full willingness to see beauty.

This book is a superbly written account of part of the author's journey across Europe in the 1930's. Its subtitle, "On foot to Constantinople: From the hook of Holland to the middle Danube" tells the scope of this volume. There is one other book in this series, "Between the woods and the water". A third volume to complete the series is still being worked on by the author, Patrick Leigh Fermor, who is in his 90's.

Fermor is a famous author of travel books and memoirs. He spent years travelling and working on languages. His exploits in WWII include spiriting a ranking German general from enemy held territory. He has written books on his travels in Greece and the Carribean. This book is his masterpiece. His second book isn't quite as good as this one.

The author wrote this account years after the journey, made as a teenager, based on his diaries and recollections. Writing this so many years after the events allows the author to edit and comment on past events.

By walking and taking his time, the author has time to absorb local history and culture before moving on. He rarely has to stay in public lodging since some local family usually takes him in. Travelling alone allows the author better access to the people and places he visits.

The book will often digress into interestings asides about history, linguistics, culture and the like. Especially interesting is the German portion of his travels through a country that is just beginning to understand what the election of Hitler and the Nazi's really means.

The book is paced perfectly and Fermor's descriptions are perfect. You will feel a perfect sense of time and place upon finishing this pastoral, elegiac work.

If I were to tell a friend who has never read travel literature what was the single best travel book I know, it would be this book. Highly recommended.

Patrick Leigh Fermor's work is a joy to read. I brought it with me this past summer when I was living/traveling in the former Yugoslavia and I have as many fond memories of reading that book on long bus rides as some of the places I experienced. I ended up giving it away to a friend I had met as a present and I miss it dearly now and plan on purchasing it again when I have the funds. His description of the beer hall in Munich is my favorite part.
Having read numerous works of Kaplan and Rebecca West, I feel that Fermor is the best in the league, at least with this series. Speaking of which, I read them out of order so it is not entirely necessary to read Time of Gifts first. I am keeping my fingers crossed that Fermor finishes the third book before he passes, though I cannot find any news of it. Does anyone know?

I highly recommend this work.