Books About Greece: Zorba the Greek

There's a reason Zorba the Greek is the most famous Modern Greek book around.

Nikos Kazantzakis is a genius. The characters are so vivid, so fully alive and more than anything else, so Greek.

I guess I've been in a philosophical mood lately. The last two books I've read (both of which I couldn't put down) were Zorba the Greek and Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses. Although you probably wouldn't think of reading the two as a pair, I think they both grapple with similar issues.

Zorba is narrated by an educated, well-traveled, scholarly young man from Crete. He's studied philosophy and religion but he realizes that he hasn't ever actually done the gritty, dirty work of actually living. He's only just studied how to live. Luckily, he meets Zorba, a grizzled old Greek who seems to be life incarnate. The two head to Crete to open up a lignite mine, becoming fast friends and sharing life philosophies.  Eventually our narrator begins to question his Buddhist intellectual detachment when faced with Zorba's full-throated love of physical, tangible life.

Rushdie's The Satanic Verses is about two Indian men, who've led completely different lives. One has tried his hardest to assimilate into a "white" British identity while the other is a Bollywood film star. After an explosion on a plane, the two men are both transformed, one seemingly into an angel and the other into a devil. At first, their roles seem obvious, but it soon becomes harder to tell exactly who is the hero and who is the villain. 

The Satanic Verses is about a whole host of issues but the main theme I took away was the difficulty in defining precisely what is "good" and what is "evil." Like Zorba, it's entirely absorbing as a story (I think it might be one of my new favorite books) but it also forces the reader to think about some very weighty spiritual and philosophical issues. Ultimately, both books are asking "What is the right way to lead a life?" and "What is a life worth living?"

I could say much more, but I think I'll let you read the books for yourself and form your own opinions. In the meantime, here are some of my favorite quotes from Zorba:

"The sea, autumn mildness, islands bathed in light, fine rain spreading a diaphanous veil over the immortal nakedness of Greece. Happy is the man, I thought, who, before dying, has the good fortune to sail the Aegean Sea.

Many are the joys of this world- women, fruit, ideas. But to cleave that sea in the gentle autumnal season, murmuring the name of each islet, is to my mind the joy most apt to transport the heart of man into paradise. Nowhere else can one pass so easily and serenely from reality to dream. The frontiers dwindle, and from the masts of the most ancient ships spring branches and fruits. It is as if here in Greece necessity is the mother of miracles."

* * *

"'You don't want any trouble!' Zorba exclaimed in stupefaction. 'And pray, what do you want, then?'

I did not answer.

'Life is trouble,' Zorba continued. 'Death, no. To live- do you know what that means? To undo your belt and look for trouble!'

I still said nothing. I knew Zorba was right, I knew it, but I did not dare. My life had got on the wrong track, and my contact with men became now a mere soliloquy. I had fallen so low that, if I had to choose between falling in love with a woman and reading a book about love, I should have chosen the book."

* * *

"I could hear the sea murmuring, I closed my eyes again and I was deeply happy. My body was light and contented, like an animal after the hunt, when it has caught and eaten its prey and is lying in the sun, licking its lips. My mind, a body too in its way, was resting, contented. It seemed to have found a marvellously simple answer to the vital, complicated problems which tormented it.

All of the joy of the previous night flowed back from the innermost depths of my being, spread out into fresh courses and abundantly watered the earth of which I was made. As I lay, with my eyes closed, I seemed to hear my being bursting its shell and growing larger. That night, for the first time, I felt clearly that the soul is flesh as well, perhaps more volatile, more diaphanous, perhaps freer, but flesh all the same. And the flesh is soul, somewhat turgid perhaps, somewhat exhausted by its long journeys, and bowed under the burden it has inherited."

* * *

"I looked at him and was very happy. I felt these minutes on that deserted shore to be simple but rich in deep human value. And our meal every evening was like the stews that sailors make when they land on some deserted beach- with fish, oysters, onions and plenty of pepper; they are more tasty than any other dish and have no equal for nourishing a man's spirit. There, at the edge of the world, we were like two shipwrecked men."