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Corelli's Mandolin

Corelli's Mandolin

4.5 42
by Louis de Bernieres

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It is 1941, and Captain Antonio Corelli, a young Italian officer, is posted to the Greek Island of Cephallonia as part of the occupying forces. At first he is ostracized by the locals, but as a conscientious soldier, whose main aim is to have a peaceful war, he proves to be civilized, humorous and a consummate musician. But when the local doctor's daughter's letters


It is 1941, and Captain Antonio Corelli, a young Italian officer, is posted to the Greek Island of Cephallonia as part of the occupying forces. At first he is ostracized by the locals, but as a conscientious soldier, whose main aim is to have a peaceful war, he proves to be civilized, humorous and a consummate musician. But when the local doctor's daughter's letters to her fiance go unanswered, the working of a triangle seems inevitable. Can this fragile love survive this war of bestial savagery as the lines are drawn between invader and defender?

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
This dark yet dazzling tour de force invigorates the genre of antiwar comedies in the style of Hasek, Heller and Vonnegut. Bernieres sweeps across a 50 year history of a glorious Greek Island at peace and at war and simultaneously homes in on its panoply of major and minor characters and the Italians forced by Mussolini to invade them. The fusion of Greek and Christian mythologies in Cephalonia makes for rollicking scenes such as the Feast of St. Gerasimos, with its miracle cures and drunken stupors. The barbaric, paranoid absurdity of Mussolini and his ill-prepared, ill-led and unwilling army makes both for high comedy and blood curdling scenes of starvation, misery and death. The humanizing role of the arts, musical and medical, informs it all. Because Berniers's farce and fury erupt through a witty word play carefully tone shifts, listening to this novel is, in some ways, even better than reading it. Lang fearlessly carries listeners through swiftly changing currents of tenderness and horror, kindness and cruelty. With his fine array of Greek, Italian and British accents, he masterfully reveals the soaring emotional range across and within characters. Even the lengthy tirades of fascist dictators and communist dogmatists are rendered with passionate, painful and refreshing irony. Based on the 1994 Pantheon hardcover. (Jan.) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Set on the Greek island of Cephallonia, this splendid novel spans five decades beginning in the late 1930s just before the Axis forces occupy the island. Using myriad voices to chronicle the horrors of combat and the boredom of occupation, it is by turns funny, sad, and cruel. Corelli is an Italian army captain, a member of the first extraneous forces to occupy Cephallonia, and the lover of Pelagia Iannis. It is through Pelagia's voice that much of the story is revealed, but the chorus includes her father, various Greek villagers, Italian and Greek soldiers, and a goatherd. Besides showing considerable knowledge of historical events and of stringed instruments, the author reveals a keen ability to switch perspectives from young to old, monarchist to Communist, combat soldier to passive peasant, male to female. It doesn't matter that the plot becomes a bit sappy in the last 20 pages because most readers will have already guessed the conclusion and are reveling in the glitter of all that precedes it. Essential purchase for all fiction collections.-Olivia Opello, Onondaga Cty. P.L., Syracuse, N.Y.
From the Publisher
"Brims with all the grand topics of literature—love and death, heroism and skull-duggery, humor and pathos, not to mention art and religion. . . . A good old-fashioned novel." —Washington Post Book World

"An exuberant mixture of history and romance, written with a wit that is incandescent"—Los Angeles Times Book Review

"Stunning. . . . A high-spirited historical romance. . . . Remarkable." —The New York Times Book Review

Product Details

Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Publication date:
Edition description:
1st American ed

Read an Excerpt

Excerpt from Corelli's Mandolin

Dr. Iannis Commences his History and is Frustrated

Dr. Iannis had enjoyed a satisfactory day in which none of his patients had died or got any worse. He had attended a surprisingly easy calving, lanced one abscess, extracted a molar, dosed one lady of easy virtue with Salvarsan, performed an unpleasant but spectacularly fruitful enema, and had produced a miracle by a feat of medical prestidigitation.

He chuckled to himself, for no doubt this miracle was already being touted as worthy of St Gerasimos himself. He had gone to old man Stamatis' house, having been summoned to deal with an earache, and had found himself gazing down into an aural orifice more dank, be-lichened, and stalagmitic even than the Dr.ogarati cave. He had set about cleaning the lichen away with the aid of a little cotton, soaked in alcohol, and wrapped about the end of a long matchstick. He was aware that old man Stamatis had been deaf in that ear since childhood, and that it had been a constant source of pain, but was nonetheless surprised when, deep in that hairy recess, the tip of his matchstick seemed to encounter something hard and unyielding; something, that is to say, which had no physiological or anatomical excuse for its presence. He took the old man over to the window, threw open the shutters, and an explosion of midday heat and light instantaneously threw the room into an effulgent dazzle, as though some importunate and unduly luminous angel had misguidedly picked that place for an epiphany. Old Stamatis' wife tutted; it was simply bad housekeeping to allow that much light into the house at such an hour. She was sure that it stirred up the dust; she could clearly see the motes rising up from the surfaces.

Dr. Iannis tilted the old man's head and peered into the ear. With his long matchstick he pressed aside the undergrowth of stiff grey hairs embellished with flakes of exfoliated scurf. There was something spherical within. He scraped its surface to remove the hard brown cankerous coating of wax, and beheld a pea. It was undoubtedly a pea; it was light green, its surface was slightly wrinkled, and there could not be any doubt in the matter. 'Have you ever stuck anything down your ear?' he demanded.

'Only my finger,' replied Stamatis.

'And how long have you been deaf in this ear?'

'Since as long as I can remember.'

Dr. Iannis found an absurd picture rising up before his imagination. It was Stamatis as a toddler, with the same gnarled face, the same stoop, the same overmeasure of aural hair, reaching up to the kitchen table and taking a Dr.ied pea from a wooden bowl. He stuck it into his mouth, found it too hard to bite, and crammed it into his ear. The doctor chuckled, 'You must have been a very annoying little boy.'

'He was a devil.'

'Be quiet, woman, you didn't even know me in those days.'

'I have your mother's word, God rest her soul,' replied the old woman, pursing her lips and folding her arms, 'and I have the word of your sisters.'

Dr. Iannis considered the problem. It was undoubtedly an obdurate and recalcitrant pea, and it was too tightly packed to lever it out. 'Do you have a fishhook, about the right size for a mullet, with a long shank? And do you have a light hammer?'

The couple looked at each other with the single thought that their doctor must have lost his mind. 'What does this have to do with my earache?' asked Stamatis suspiciously.

'You have an exorbitant auditory impediment,' replied the doctor, ever conscious of the necessity for maintaining a certain iatric mystique, and fully aware that 'a pea in the ear' was unlikely to earn him any kudos. 'I can remove it with a fishhook and a small hammer; it's the ideal way of overcoming un embarras de petit pois.' He spoke the French words in a mincingly Parisian accent, even though his irony was apparent only to himself.

A hook and a hammer were duly fetched, and the doctor carefully straightened the hook on the stone flags of the floor. He then summoned the old man and told him to lay his head on the sill in the light. Stamatis lay there rolling his eyes, and the old lady put her hands over hers, watching through her fingers. 'Hurry up, Doctor,' exclaimed Stamatis, 'this sill is hotter than hell.'

The doctor carefully inserted the straightened hook into the hirsute orifice and raised the hammer, only to be deflected from his course by a hoarse shriek very reminiscent of that of a raven. Perplexed and horrified, the old wife was wringing her hands and keening, 'O, o, o, you are going to Dr.ive a fishhook into his brain. Christ have mercy, all the saints and Mary protect us.'

This interjection gave the doctor pause; he reflected that if the pea was very hard, there was a good chance that the barb would not penetrate, but would Dr.ive the pea deeper into its recess. The Dr.um might even be broken. He straightened up and twirled his white moustache reflectively with one forefinger. 'Change of plan,' he announced. 'I have decided upon further thought that it would be better to fill his ear up with water and mollify the supererogatory occlusion. Kyria, you must keep this ear filled with warm water until I return this evening. Do not allow the patient to move, keep him lying on his side with his ear full. Is that understood?'

Dr. Iannis returned at six o'clock and hooked the softened pea successfully without the aid of a hammer, small or otherwise. He worked it out deftly enough, and presented it to the couple for their inspection. Encrusted with thick dark wax, rank and malodorous, it was recognisable to neither of them as anything leguminous. 'It's very papilionaceous, is it not?' enquired the doctor.

The old woman nodded with every semblance of having understood, which she had not, but with an expression of wonder alight in her eyes. Stamatis clapped his hand to the side of his head and exclaimed, 'It's cold in there. My God, it's loud. I mean everything is loud. My own voice is loud.'

'Your deafness is cured,' announced Dr. Iannis. 'A very satisfactory operation, I think.'

'I've had an operation,' said Stamatis complacently. 'I'm the only person I know who's had an operation. And now I can hear. It's a miracle, that's what it is. My head feels empty, it feels hollow, it feels as though my whole head has filled up with spring water, all cold and clear.'

'Well, is it empty, or is it full?' demanded the old lady. 'Talk some sense when the doctor has been kind enough to cure you.' She took Iannis' hand in both of her own and kissed it, and shortly afterwards he found himself walking home with a fat pullet under each arm, a shiny dark aubergine stuffed into each pocket of his jacket, and an ancient pea wrapped up in his handkerchief, to be added to his private medical museum.

It had been a good day for payments; he had also earned two very large and fine crayfish, a pot of whitebait, a basil plant, and an offer of sexual intercourse (to be redeemed at his convenience). He had resolved that he would not be taking up that particular offer, even if the Salvarsan were effective. He was left with a whole evening in which to write his history of Cephallonia, as long as Pelagia had remembered to purchase some more oil for the lamps.

'The New History of Cephallonia' was proving to be a problem; it seemed to be impossible to write it without the intrusion of his own feelings and prejudices. Objectivity seemed to be quite unattainable, and he felt that his false starts must have wasted more paper than was normally used on the island in the space of a year. The voice that emerged in his account was intractably his own; it was never historical. It lacked grandeur and impartiality. It was not Olympian.

He sat down and wrote: 'Cephallonia is a factory that breeds babies for export. There are more Cephallonians abroad or at sea than there are at home. There is no indigenous industry that keeps families together, there is not enough arable land, there is an insufficiency of fish in the ocean. Our men go abroad and return here to die, and so we are an island of chilDr.en, spinsters, priests, and the very old. The only good thing about it is that only the beautiful women find husbands amongst those men that are left, and so the pressure of natural selection has ensured that we have the most beautiful women in all of Greece, and perhaps in the whole region of the Mediterranean. The unhappy thing about this is that we have beautiful and spirited women married to the most grotesque and inappropriate husbands, who are good for nothing and never could be, and we have some sad and ugly women that nobody wants, who are born to be widows without ever having had a husband.'

The doctor refilled his pipe and read this through. He listened to Pelagia clattering outdoors in the yard, preparing to boil the crayfish. He read what he had written about beautiful women, and remembered his wife, as lovely as her daughter had become, and dead from tuberculosis despite everything he had been able to do. 'This island betrays its own people in the mere act of existing,' he wrote, and then he crumpled the sheet of paper and flung it into the corner of the room. This would never do; why could he not write like a writer of histories? Why could he not write without passion? Without anger? Without the sense of betrayal and oppression? He picked up the sheet, already bent at the corners, that he had written first. It was the title page: 'The New History of Cephallonia'. He crossed out the first two words and substituted 'A Personal'. Now he could forget about leaving out the loaded adjectives and the ancient historical grudges, now he could be vitriolic about the Romans, the Normans, the Venetians, the Turks, the British, and even the islanders themselves. He wrote:

'The half-forgotten island of Cephallonia rises improvidently and inadvisedly from the Ionian Sea; it is an island so immense in antiquity that the very rocks themselves exhale nostalgia and the red earth lies stupefied not only by the sun, but by the impossible weight of memory. The ships of Odysseus were built of Cephallonian pine, his bodyguards were Cephallonian giants, and some maintain that his palace was not in Ithaca but in Cephallonia.

'But even before that wily and itinerant king was favoured by Athene or set aDr.ift through the implacable malice of Poseidon, Mesolithic and Neolithic peoples were chipping knives from obsidian and casting nets for fish. The Mycenean Hellenes arrived, leaving behind the shards of their amphorae and their breastshaped tombs, bequeathing progeny who, long after the departure of Odysseus, would fight for Athens, be tyrannised by Sparta, and then defeat even the megalomaniac Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander, curiously known as "the Great" and a more preposterous megalomaniac still.

'It was an island filled with gods. On the summit of Mt Aenos there was a shrine to Zeus, and another upon the tiny islet of Thios. Demeter was worshipped for making the island the breadbasket of Ionia, as was Poseidon, the god who had raped her whilst disguised as a stallion, leaving her to give birth to a black horse and a mystical daughter whose name was lost when the Eleusinian mysteries were suppressed by the Christians. Here was Apollo, slayer of the Python, guardian of the navel of the earth, beautiful, youthful, wise, just, strong, hyperbolically bisexual, and the only god to have had a temple made for him by bees out of wax and feathers. Here Dionysus was worshipped also, the god of wine, pleasure, civilisation, and vegetation, father by Aphrodite of a little boy attached to the most gargantuan penis that ever encumbered man or god. Artemis had her worshippers here, too, the many-breasted virgin huntress, a goddess of such radically feminist convictions that she had Actaeon torn to pieces by dogs for accidentally seeing her naked, and had her paramour Orion stung to death by scorpions for touching her fortuitously. She was such a fastidious stickler for etiquette and summary chastisement that entire dynasties could be disposed of for one word out of place or an oblation five minutes late. There were temples to Athene, too, the perpetual virgin who (with great forbearance, compared to Artemis) blinded Tiresias for seeing her naked, was formidably gifted in those crafts which are indispensable to economic and domestic life, and who was the patron of oxen, horses, and olives.

'In their choice of gods the people of the island displayed the immense and intransigent common sense that has been the secret of their survival throughout the centuries; it is obvious that the king of the deities should be worshipped, obvious that a seafaring people should placate the god of the sea, obvious that vintners should honour Dionisios (it is still the most common name on the island), obvious that Demeter should be honoured for keeping the island self-sufficient, obvious that Athene should be worshipped for her gifts of wisdom and skill in the tasks of daily life, just as it also fell to her to oversee innumerable military emergencies. Nor should it be wondered at that Artemis should have had her cult, for this was the equivalent of an infallible insurance policy; she was a troublesome gadfly whose mischief should in preference have been made to occur elsewhere.

'The choice of Apollo as a Cephallonian cult is both the most and the least mysterious. It is the most inexplicable to those who have never been to the island, and the most inevitable to those who know it, for Apollo is a god associated with the power of light. Strangers who land here are blinded for two days.

'It is a light that seems unmediated either by the air or by the stratosphere. It is completely virgin, it produces overwhelming clarity of focus, it has heroic strength and brilliance. It exposes colours in their original prelapsarian state, as though straight from the imagination of God in His youngest days, when He still believed that all was good. The dark green of the pines is unfathomably and retreatingly deep, the ocean viewed from the top of a cliff is platonic in its presentation of azure and turquoise, emerald, viridian, and lapis lazuli. The eye of a goat is a living semi-precious stone half way between amber and arylide, and the crickets are the fluorescent green of the youngest shoots of grass in the original Eden. Once the eyes have adjusted to the extreme vestal chastity of this light, the light of any other place is miserable and dank by comparison; it is nothing more than something to see by, a disappointment, a blemish. Even the seawater of Cephallonia is easier to see through than the air of any other place; a man may float in the water watching the distant sea bed, and clearly see lugubrious rays that for some reason are always accompanied by diminutive flatfish.'...

What People are Saying About This

Joseph Heller
"A wonderful, hyponic novel of fabulous scope and tremendous, iridescent charm."
Richard Russo
"Behind every page of 'Corelli's Mandolin' we sense its author's intelligence, wit, heart, imagination, and wisdom. This is a great book."

Meet the Author

Louis de Bernieres' novels include The War of Don Emmanuel's Nether Parts (Commonwealth Writers Prize, Best First Book Eurasia Region, 1991), Senor Vivo and the Coca Lord (Commonwealth Writers Prize, Best Book Eurasia Region, 1992), and The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman. The author, who lives in London, was selected as one of the twenty Best of Young British Novelists 1993.

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Corelli's Mandolin (2 Cassettes) 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 41 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This remarkable book brilliantly captures both the horrors and idiocy of the Second World War without leaving the confines of the small Greek island of Cephalonia. De Bernieres obviously loves his characters, and consequently so does the reader. The book swings from rich humor to abject misery effectively, and the love story between Pelagia, a Greek woman, and Antonio, an officer of the Italian army that is occupying the island, is real and touching. Their love is an antidote to the barbarity closing in around them. The secondary characters also come to life, and Mussolini¿s monologues, interspersed among the chapters, are a brilliant commentary on megalomania. The descriptions of life in the village on Cephalonia are both funny and moving, the battle scenes are horrifying, and the indecision of the Italian army's brass is so stupefying it still makes you angry sixty years later. I was surprised that the book went beyond the war years right up to the `90s, a touch I had mixed feelings about. But overall I thought the book a modern classic. Too bad the movie wasn¿t up to the standards of the book; if you¿ve seen the movie don¿t be put off ¿ this is a touching book you will enjoy.
Maerajean More than 1 year ago
I like the idea and even most of the characters for this story (though a few of them are caricatures), but the author was very long-winded. While it's good for the author to be intimately familiar with all the details and back story for the events and characters of his story, the reader doesn't need or want to know all of it. With Corelli's Mandolin, the author could have cut out a lot to give the story more impact.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The vocabulary can be quite crazy and strange which is challenging but also funny. This book is very funny and although, like many books, there are slow parts it is definately entertaining and at times hilarious! I'm sure if you read it you will find yourself chuckling. I definately recommend this book - it is a very fun read.
Guest More than 1 year ago
DeBernieres did a masterful job with this book, honing his skills on earlier Latin novels. His portrayals of the Greek characters are fresh and alive. Occasionally his passages are so gripping that I've practically memorized them, and I return to read them again and again. This is a stellar job of weaving a generational story with a little known part of the world and its tumultuous history. A fine book, attested to by its phenomenal success in Britain.
Guest More than 1 year ago
When my boyfriend recommended this book to me, I had high expectations. I found the first part of the book rather disappointing, a little slow at the beginning. It however, certainly picked up and made up for the slow start and by the end of the novel, I culd not put it down. I will certainly revisit this book in the future.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book requires a dictionary. Got about 1/4 through it and decided to hang it up
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
silverfox67 More than 1 year ago
Remarkably comprehensive and moving story of the lives of Greek islanders on Cephallonia told with a combination of comedy and tragedy. Well defined characters led by a doctor and his daughter who experience the simple joys of a simple life until World War II and the invasion and occupation of the island by Axis forces changes their lives. The introduction of Italian occupation forces has an unexpected effect on the island due to the arrival of Captain Antonio Corelli and the Aqui Division he commands. This is a story that, while starting slowly, builds to events of great sorrow and uplifting decency and romance. The author tells the tale in an educational but light-hearted manner in which the history of Cephallonia and that of Greece is made interesting if somewhat and occasionally confusing. The character development is well defined which gives the story a familiarity that comes from relating to the different people in unique circumstances. A wonderful read!
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Guest More than 1 year ago
Beautifully written, heartbreaking and humorous with a backdrop of history, Louis de Bernieres truly captivates the reader in this epic tale.
Guest More than 1 year ago
If you desire advanced diction and elevated syntax, discover this novel. Pure in story yet broad in scope, this is one of the best-sounding books I have read. Occasionally garrulous in the historical subplots, its overall lyrical quality is hypnotic. I use it for several writing lessons with my IB students, and I suggest teachers of AP and IB to consider it for style analysis!
Guest More than 1 year ago
In Captain Corelli's Mandolin the genres romance, tragedy, history and comedy have been intricitaely woven into a magical- realism novel. The result is an enchanting, heartbreaking piece of art that I have read twice to ensure to assimilate the detail, the passion in the life of the characters, piecing the historical and emotional jigsaw together. Never have i indulged in such a captivating novel. How deBerniere has sketched such vibrant characters and breathed life into them. The structure is brilliant, the moods of the chapters fluctuate to act as breaches in the novel, such as comic relief between episodes in anguish, war and loss. One would assume that such fluctuations would have a perturbing effect on the flow of the novel, such an assumption is completely incorrect. So profoundly have the elements been sewn and consolidated, there is no distruption in the flow of the novel, just brief rests for the emotions erupting inside of us to cool, and then start anew. I am adament that I will not watch the film as I wouldn't want to fracture the enchanting world that DeBernieres has painted with words.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This was an amazing book that was written with a clarity few other authors achieve. The characters were multidimensional and fickle, whilst still being consistent in their humanity. Set against a magical background that is Cephallonia, this is a tale both of tragedy and overpowering love. Corelli himself is a poet-king, loved by his men, adored by Pelagia and in love with life itself. His wit, his shameless comedy, his flair for the outrageous, make the backdrop of war all the more bleak and desolate. What a fantastic read! Trust me ... this is one not to miss!
Guest More than 1 year ago
The visuals created of the people and the island make the book worth reading. Good story set in a beautiful locale.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This is one of the best books I've read in a long time. The characters were beautifully drawn and the juxtaposition of positive human attributes of love, music, compassion and natural beauty to the barbarity of war was breathtakingly done. I couldn't put it down.At the end I was enraged by the brutalities that occurred and amazed again by the power of music and love. No one has, however, mentioned the similarities of this story to the Italian film, Mediterraneo.I wonder if de Bernieres took anything from this wonderful movie?