Books: O Conde d'Abranhos e A Catástrofe, Eça de Queirós

I've got terribly behind on my book posts, so this is the first of a few catch-ups. Since I wrote last time about Eça's A Cidade e as Serras, I've read three more Eça volumes, and part of another.

The first was O Mandarim, a tiny novella. Unfortunately I forgot to photograph it before leaving for Brazil, so the post will have to wait (you can either believe it's because I like doing things properly, or because it's a convenient excuse for delaying writing the post...).

The second was this, O Conde d'Abranhos e A Catástrofe. It is in fact two works, which seem to be conventionally published together in one volume. The first is quite substantial, and the second only a few pages long. Both are examples of Eça's work at its most political. O Conde d'Abranhos tells the story of - you guessed it - the Count of Abranhos. For most of the story he isn't a Count at all, rather Alípio, a young man climbing the greasy pole of Portuguese politics. As so often in Eça, we have a hilariously slanted account from the narrator, who criticises or praises certain characters and their actions entirely depending on their relationship with the Count. Sometimes the satire drips from the page; at other times it's more subtle. There's never any doubt, though; Eça does not approve of this section of society. Although most of the story revolves around politics - involving intrigues such as Alípio changing party and denouncing former colleagues - there are some compelling episodes of a more personal nature, such as his courting of his wife, in which he demonstrates the same astuteness (or cold-hearted calculation) that dominates his career. The novel gives a very interesting insight into the political climate at the time, being written in 1878 - although not published until 1925. And, inevitably, reading it gives one a sense of politics, and politicians, not having changed much deep down, during many decades and across countries.

A Catástrofe (yes, that's The Catastrophe for any anglophones) gives a brief picture of life in an imagined 19th century Portugal after an invasion by an unnamed foreign power. Eça bemoans the lack of preparation which allowed the Portuguese forces to be overcome quickly, with the associated loss of national pride, although he also portrays the people's resolve to reclaim their independence. The clear implication is that the (real) government needs to act to prepare Portugal better for future threats.

This wasn't my favourite Eça book so far, but I enjoyed getting a feel for the more political side of his work. The beautiful written style and cleverly portrayed characters mean it's always a pleasure to read Eça. I recommend this volume if you really want to go deeper than the most famous novels, or if you're into political satire.