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Between the Woods and the Water: On Foot to…
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Between the Woods and the Water: On Foot to Constantinople from the Hook of Holland - The Middle Danube to the Iron Gate (urspr publ 1986; utgåvan 2004)

av Patrick Leigh Fermor

MedlemmarRecensionerPopularitetGenomsnittligt betygOmnämnanden
1,4812912,206 (4.3)133
The acclaimed travel writer's youthful journey - as an 18-year-old - across 1930s Europe by foot began in A Time of Gifts, which covered the author's exacting journey from the Lowlands as far as Hungary. Picking up from the very spot on a bridge across the Danube where his readers last saw him, we travel on with him across the great Hungarian Plain on horseback, and over the Romanian border to Transylvania. The trip was an exploration of a continent which was already showing signs of the holocaust which was to come. Although frequently praised for his lyrical writing, Fermor's account also provides a coherent understanding of the dramatic events then unfolding in Middle Europe. But the delight remains in travelling with him in his picaresque journey past remote castles, mountain villages, monasteries and towering ranges.… (mer)
Medlem:viviennespastimes
Titel:Between the Woods and the Water: On Foot to Constantinople from the Hook of Holland - The Middle Danube to the Iron Gate
Författare:Patrick Leigh Fermor
Info:John Murray (2004), Paperback, 256 pages
Samlingar:Ditt bibliotek
Betyg:*****
Taggar:non-fiction, travel

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Between the Woods and the Water av Patrick Leigh Fermor (Author) (1986)

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» Se även 133 omnämnanden

engelska (28)  italienska (1)  Alla språk (29)
Visa 1-5 av 29 (nästa | visa alla)
When I was a student at University (longer ago than I’d like to think...) I decided to become a member of the Folio Society. My first order included a handsome set of fairytale collections, a few history and fiction titles, and the Society’s edition of Patrick Leigh Fermor’s [b:A Time of Gifts|4899673|A Time of Gifts|Patrick Leigh Fermor|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1223017864s/4899673.jpg|2636997]. I was no fan of travel writing. Nor had I ever heard of Leigh Fermor. But this was one of the more affordable books in the catalogue, one that didn’t unduly stretch my restricted budget.

The volume remained unopened on my shelves until, one fine day, driven by boredom and a vague curiosity, I immersed myself in its pages. It blew me away.

In 1933, aged “18 and three-quarters” Leigh Fermor set off on a daunting but enthralling voyage - a journey on foot across mainland Europe, from the Hook of Holland to Constantinople. This exploit had a whiff of the Grand Old Tour about it, tinged with a gung-ho “Boys’ Own” sense of adventure. However, Leigh Fermor’s three-volume account of these travels (starting with “A Time of Gifts”) is anything but “boyish”. It is rich in evocative descriptions of sights, smells and sounds, which manage so admirably to capture a sense of place that one is quick to forgive the author’s occasional penchant for over-ripe metaphors. The text is sprinkled with erudite asides, giving insights into the history and culture of the countries which welcomed the young hiker.

There is another element which makes the book so poignant. Leigh Fermor wrote it decades after the events described. In the meantime, the Second World War – and middle age – had intervened, digging furrows in maps and complexion. Not surprisingly, the text is saturated with a feeling of nostalgia and loss. It often reads like an elegy to freedom and youth, and to a different way of life which had disappeared forever. The wide-eyed wonder of the teenage protagonist gives way to the more knowing narrative voice of the author’s older and wiser self.

“A Time of Gifts” describes the first leg of Leigh Fermor’s journey and leaves us with the traveller on a bridge crossing the Danube between Slovakia and Hungary. It is not just a great book – it is a special and memorable one, certainly a landmark in its genre.

Years passed before I rejoined Leigh Fermor on his journey which, in “Between the Woods and the Water” winds its way through Hungary, Transylvania and into Romania. But I must admit that after the initial elation at meeting an old friend again, I started to feel disappointed. The same youthful excitement leaps from the pages, the chapters are still illuminated by the erudition of its author. However, there were some things which bothered me. The narrative momentum is often held up by digressions into the political history of the area which, as the writer himself repeatedly admits, is complex and convoluted. Moreover, despite Leigh Fermor’s open-minded enthusiasm,he sometimes gives the impression that he has not shaken off a degree of class prejudice. Long stretches of the trek are spent in castles of aristocratic friends, fondly recalled during the rougher parts of the journey. And whilst peasants and shepherds are sympathetically described (especially if they are rustic beauties not averse to close encounters in haystacks), Gypsies almost invariably come across as dirty, scheming and dangerous.

Despite my reservations, as the last pages of the book approached, I found it increasingly difficult to put it away. Evidently, the magic of Leigh Fermor’s incredible journey has not yet worn off and I hope to rekindle it soon by reading [b:The Broken Road: From the Iron Gates to Mount Athos|16240481|The Broken Road From the Iron Gates to Mount Athos|Patrick Leigh Fermor|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1364857799s/16240481.jpg|22245955], the trilogy’s posthumously published conclusion.

Ave atque vale, Paddy! ( )
1 rösta JosephCamilleri | Feb 21, 2023 |
The. Second book in Fermor's walk from London to Istanbul. Fermor is one part carefree adventurer, one part poet and one part historian. He paints rich portraits of places and people and gently moves you along with him. Keep a dictionary handy since he uses the full expanse of the English language. Some of his descriptions are poetry disguised as prose. He writes about a time between the wars that is long gone. ( )
1 rösta kropferama | Jan 1, 2023 |
travel memoir, written decades after the event (1934), recounting a solitary walk across central/eastern Europe - redolent with pre-war period detail. Lyrical in places and remarkable for the detail recalled, only some rather tedious disquisitions on history or abstruse ethnographic subject matter spoil the effect. ( )
  DramMan | Oct 28, 2022 |
When I was a student at University (longer ago than I’d like to think...) I decided to become a member of the Folio Society. My first order included a handsome set of fairytale collections, a few history and fiction titles, and the Society’s edition of Patrick Leigh Fermor’s [b:A Time of Gifts|4899673|A Time of Gifts|Patrick Leigh Fermor|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1223017864s/4899673.jpg|2636997]. I was no fan of travel writing. Nor had I ever heard of Leigh Fermor. But this was one of the more affordable books in the catalogue, one that didn’t unduly stretch my restricted budget.

The volume remained unopened on my shelves until, one fine day, driven by boredom and a vague curiosity, I immersed myself in its pages. It blew me away.

In 1933, aged “18 and three-quarters” Leigh Fermor set off on a daunting but enthralling voyage - a journey on foot across mainland Europe, from the Hook of Holland to Constantinople. This exploit had a whiff of the Grand Old Tour about it, tinged with a gung-ho “Boys’ Own” sense of adventure. However, Leigh Fermor’s three-volume account of these travels (starting with “A Time of Gifts”) is anything but “boyish”. It is rich in evocative descriptions of sights, smells and sounds, which manage so admirably to capture a sense of place that one is quick to forgive the author’s occasional penchant for over-ripe metaphors. The text is sprinkled with erudite asides, giving insights into the history and culture of the countries which welcomed the young hiker.

There is another element which makes the book so poignant. Leigh Fermor wrote it decades after the events described. In the meantime, the Second World War – and middle age – had intervened, digging furrows in maps and complexion. Not surprisingly, the text is saturated with a feeling of nostalgia and loss. It often reads like an elegy to freedom and youth, and to a different way of life which had disappeared forever. The wide-eyed wonder of the teenage protagonist gives way to the more knowing narrative voice of the author’s older and wiser self.

“A Time of Gifts” describes the first leg of Leigh Fermor’s journey and leaves us with the traveller on a bridge crossing the Danube between Slovakia and Hungary. It is not just a great book – it is a special and memorable one, certainly a landmark in its genre.

Years passed before I rejoined Leigh Fermor on his journey which, in “Between the Woods and the Water” winds its way through Hungary, Transylvania and into Romania. But I must admit that after the initial elation at meeting an old friend again, I started to feel disappointed. The same youthful excitement leaps from the pages, the chapters are still illuminated by the erudition of its author. However, there were some things which bothered me. The narrative momentum is often held up by digressions into the political history of the area which, as the writer himself repeatedly admits, is complex and convoluted. Moreover, despite Leigh Fermor’s open-minded enthusiasm,he sometimes gives the impression that he has not shaken off a degree of class prejudice. Long stretches of the trek are spent in castles of aristocratic friends, fondly recalled during the rougher parts of the journey. And whilst peasants and shepherds are sympathetically described (especially if they are rustic beauties not averse to close encounters in haystacks), Gypsies almost invariably come across as dirty, scheming and dangerous.

Despite my reservations, as the last pages of the book approached, I found it increasingly difficult to put it away. Evidently, the magic of Leigh Fermor’s incredible journey has not yet worn off and I hope to rekindle it soon by reading [b:The Broken Road: From the Iron Gates to Mount Athos|16240481|The Broken Road From the Iron Gates to Mount Athos|Patrick Leigh Fermor|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1364857799s/16240481.jpg|22245955], the trilogy’s posthumously published conclusion.

Ave atque vale, Paddy! ( )
1 rösta JosephCamilleri | Jan 1, 2022 |
Although there are many beautifully evoked landscapes, as in [A Time of Gifts], as well a the highly memorable Island of the Turks,
the emphasis on the homes, architecture, books, and intricacies in the lives of the semi-rich doesn't measure up to peasants and sleeping in haystacks.

Redundant political history bordered on boring...

...and refusal to acknowledge the horror of Hitler felt contrived or incomprehensible...
...also hard to tell how he actually felt about "gypsies" and Jewish people. ( )
  m.belljackson | Nov 13, 2021 |
Visa 1-5 av 29 (nästa | visa alla)
Unhurried and receptive, endlessly curious and with, as Philip Toynbee has said, ''a rapturous historical imagination,'' Mr. Leigh Fermor, who is in his 70's, was, and remains, an ideal witness to what is now a vanished world.
tillagd av John_Vaughan | ändraNY Times, Graeme Gibson (Jul 15, 1987)
 

» Lägg till fler författare (3 möjliga)

Författarens namnRollTyp av författareVerk?Status
Fermor, Patrick LeighFörfattareprimär författarealla utgåvorbekräftat
Allié, ManfredÖversättaremedförfattarevissa utgåvorbekräftat
Kempf-Allié, GabrieleÖversättaremedförfattarevissa utgåvorbekräftat
Morris, JanInledningmedförfattarevissa utgåvorbekräftat
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Völker verrauschen,

Namen verklingen

Finstre Vergessenheit

Breitet die dunkelnachtenden Schwingen

Über ganzen Geschlechtern aus

Schiller

from Die Braut von Messina
Ours is a great wild country:

If you climb to our castle's top,

I don't see where your eye can stop;

For when you've passed the corn-field country,

Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,

And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,

And cattle-tract to open-chase,

And open-chase to the very base

Of the mountain, where, at a funeral pace,

Round about, solemn and slow,

One by one, row by row,

Up and up the pine trees go,

So, like black priests up, and so

Down the other side again

To another greater, wilder country.

Robert Browing

from The Flight of the Duchess
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Perhaps I had made too long a halt on the bridge.
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Wikipedia på engelska (2)

The acclaimed travel writer's youthful journey - as an 18-year-old - across 1930s Europe by foot began in A Time of Gifts, which covered the author's exacting journey from the Lowlands as far as Hungary. Picking up from the very spot on a bridge across the Danube where his readers last saw him, we travel on with him across the great Hungarian Plain on horseback, and over the Romanian border to Transylvania. The trip was an exploration of a continent which was already showing signs of the holocaust which was to come. Although frequently praised for his lyrical writing, Fermor's account also provides a coherent understanding of the dramatic events then unfolding in Middle Europe. But the delight remains in travelling with him in his picaresque journey past remote castles, mountain villages, monasteries and towering ranges.

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