I've never come across a travel narrative quite like Patrick Leigh Fermor's A Time of Gifts. It's an amazing book and an amazing reading experience and one that is hard to describe. I love nonfiction but I can only read it slowly, and this is a book you will want to read slowly in order to savor it, so packed is it of all sorts of knowledge and wonder. In 1933, when he was only eighteen, Patrick Leigh Fermor set off from his home in England after being expelled for a flirtation with a local girl to travel on foot from the hook of Holland to Constantinople.
Now I know people have done all sorts of adventurous things, and in all sorts of conditions, but there was something especially magical and romantic about Leigh Fermor's adventures, which are not completed in this volume by the way. He begins in Holland, moves through Germany and down (or is it up?) the Rhine, to Austria, a short foray into Slovakia and then on to Hungary, and there we leave him, eager to hear more of his adventures. They will continue in Between the Woods and Water (which I greatly look forward to reading), though they don't quite end there. I've heard the final volume, which completes his journey is still to come and I wonder if it will actually ever arrive as Leigh Fermor is now 95.
During his travels Leigh Fermor kept journals, one of which was stolen, though A Time of Gifts wasn't actually written until he was in his 60s, so the narrative was based on his writings and memories and later life experiences. Perhaps what gives the book such a unique flavor is the sense of immediacy with which Leigh Fermor writes, yet it is also influenced by historical events he lived through. At the beginning of WWII he joined the Irish Guards, but his skills with language meant his wartime work and adventures would take him to Albania and Greece. His anecdotes may be firmly set in the Old World of Europe filled with "princes and peasants", but his experiences and knowledge are informed by a life very fully lived--four decades worth. In her introduction Jan Morris writes "Leigh Fermor is not only remembering himself, he is looking at himself, too, as in one of those Cubist paintings in which we see profile and front face at the same time."
When he set off Leigh Fermor had planned on roughing it and he literally did live hand to mouth at times. Eventually his meagre funds were supplemented by occasional checks from home. Mostly, though he got by thanks to the kindness of strangers who would happily take him into their home for a night or let him bed down in their barn. Somehow being a student, as noted on his passport, meant an easy entrée into various places and meant not only a free bed for the night but also dinner--one time he even slept in a small town prison cell. Often one letter of introduction would lead to another friend and place to stay--as humble as a sofa or as grand as a schloss. He was a happy-go-lucky sort of traveler, quite content with whoever he might meet--blue blooded aristocracy or someone barely getting by.
Leigh Fermor was not only a scholar but an artist, too, in terms of his prose style and craftsmanship. The book has a bit of everything--travel narrative, history, art, literature, religion, politics and philosophical meditation. To be honest there were times his references flew above my head, and I could only enjoy the way he tells his story but it never lessened the pleasure I had in reading this book. What is so amazing is that his formal education ended early, before he set off on his adventures, yet he writes in such a sophisticated and erudite manner. This is someone who has lived and experienced life to the very fullest taking every opportunity to take whatever knowledge is on offer.
I've been slowly trying to collect his other books and look forward to reading not only his other travel narratives but his fiction as well, which I am very curious about. A Time of Gifts is highly recommended.