The
High Mountains of Portugal –
a book group must-read
Yann Martel’s latest work recalls a number of the topics
explored in his more famous first work, The
Life of Pi: grief, the nature
of God, journey as metaphor. The
magical realism of the first book is even more prevalent here, contributing to
both the ambiguity and the marvelousness of the novel. But, I use the term “novel”
loosely. The High Mountains of Portugal is really three novellas that span
the 20th century and which are connected, in part by the titular
setting and through several motifs that must be considered in all their
repetition to begin to excavate the meaning.
Part 1, entitled “Homeless,” begins in Lisbon in
1904. Stricken by grief from the
death of his lover and 5 year-old son, Tomas, an employee of the museum of
antiquities, leaves town in search of a strange icon that is mentioned in the
journal of a 17th century priest. The journey to the high mountains of Portugal (which are
actually neither) where he believes the artifact to be located, is alternately
tedious and humorous. My book
group agreed on this last point, with several people (including me) confessing
to wanting to give up on the book at this point, persevering only because it
was the book group’s selection.
The second section, “Homeward,” leaps forward to one
night in 1939 to the office of Dr. Lozora, a pathologist, who receives two
visitors over the course of the evening.
The first, his wife, delivers a lengthy, albeit somewhat interesting and
occasionally humorous monologue on her analysis of the Gospels, offers her
comparison of Christ’s death to an Agatha Christie mystery (noting his name
hidden in hers) and poses questions about the role of stories - “Why would
Jesus speak in parables? Why would
he both tell stories and let himself be presented through stories? Why would Truth use the tools of
fictions?” (152). A second visitor is a woman who brings
her dead husband in a suitcase, requesting that the doctor autopsy him to
discover “how he lived.” This
woman and her husband are from a village in the high mountains and, it turns
out, crossed paths with Tomas years earlier in a tragic way. The autopsy reveals many surprises.
The third part, “Home,” is the payoff for sticking with
the book. Set in modern times, it
features Peter, a Canadian senator of Portuguese origins, who becomes adrift
when his wife dies. Sent by the
Party whip to Oklahoma as the Canadian delegate, he visits a chimpanzee reserve
where he connects with an ape named Odo.
Peter impulsively decides to buy the chimp, give up his position, sell
his house and – you guessed it – journey to the high mountains of his ancestral
home. It is in this final part of
the triptych that the various motifs begin to crystallize and, in the final
pages, Martel creates a surprising and wonderful scene that left me thinking, “This
is a wonderful book.”
The reason I say this is a must-read for a book club is
that there is much to discuss and puzzle through here. The book is clearly about grief and how
one copes with the loss of loved ones.
An excerpt from the priest’s journal poses a key question: “What does
suffering do to a man? Does it
open him up? Does he understand
more as a result of his suffering?” (104). Such suffering also leads to crises of faith. Can comfort and salvation be found in a
God who allows such suffering? The
characters in each of the three sections seek an answer in each of three
different places. The titles of the
three sections also parallel characters’ and the readers’ journey towards
answers. The cliché suggests that
home is where the heart is; Martel expands on this, offering that home is where
one finds peace, a peace that comes of a spiritual connection to who we are at
the core.
If you are in a book group, add this one to your
queue. You won’t be disappointed.
