Christ Stopped at Eboli

Are you one of those people who routinely puts a book in your bag before leaving home? Okay, so we are in the minority, a few more may leave one in the car, or pack one only when they know they will be away from home for more than a night or so. When I say book I recognise that today this may include electronic forms, but this post is about how a single book may become a companion and be read over and over again. And whilst I am not a religious person, and pass no judgement on other’s holy texts, the kinds of book I refer to here certainly do aid contemplation, offer much to meditate upon and are a source of wisdom and spiritual guidance.

‘.. ‘We’re not Christians,’ they say. ‘Christ stopped short of here, at Eboli.’ ‘Christian’, in their way of speaking, means ‘human being’…’ (Levi 1982:11)   

Those of us non-electronic readers, who are lucky enough to be able to scan our bookshelves in the last moments before leaving home and select what we will read today, face a bigger dilemma when we know we will be away for any length of time. You may feel you only have the space for one book, or are only prepared to tolerate the weight of one, but some of us go a stage further and ask; what one book will satisfy all our needs on this journey, or indeed any journey which may be of indeterminate length? Sometimes we end up giving the status of companion to a single volume for years at a time.

I first became aware of this as a child when I read John Buchan’s Richard Hannay spy stories, where one of the central characters uses John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress as a guide and companion. Only reading Buchan later in life did I realise how much Bunyan had influenced all his stories, leading later still to an appreciation of how Bunyan’s personal story had come to have such a powerful impact, over more than four centuries, on thousands of people pursuing less than conventional religious lives.

It was around the beginning of the 1980’s, when I was in my early twenties, that I found myself placing a copy of Kipling’s Kim in my rucksack whenever I went on a trip. I had begun to realise, as with Buchan, that what others had told you was childhood reading did in fact contained more, much more, if you were willing to learn a little about the historical context in which they had been written.

Kipling was only displaced when a university lecturer pressed his copy of Carlo Levi’s Christ Stopped at Eboli into my hands at the start of the Easter vacation in 1984. (I should say that even at that time he was the last remaining philosopher at the university!) What prompted him was one of those conversations that would gather you an audience in the area of the humanities building, between the office and the coffee machine, where undergraduates congregated between lectures. I’d been trying to explain that I was about to return to the community in south west France where I had spent four months or so the previous year. I have described elsewhere this small outpost of the counterculture of the early 1970’s, an organic farm and vineyard in the Bordeaux region. But it was my assertion that in many ways this modern community embodied virtuous aspects of traditional European peasant life that led to the lecturer offering me the book as a corrective influence on what he suspected was my over stated, if not romantic view. But of course what he could not have anticipated was that I would still be reading it thirty years later - for with my experience of WWOOFing, I never came to think of Christ Stopped at Eboli as a negative interpretation of the peasant experience at all!

‘Many years have gone by, years of war and of what men call History. Buffeted here and there at random I have not been able to return…’ (Levi 1982:11)

After giving back the loaned copy, I bought one of my own. But in time it fell apart, hence the photo above. One of those rare experiences where the cover illustration seems to match the images evoked when reading the text. Still today a copy goes in my rucksack when I’m out walking, or can be found in my satchel when I’m sitting in a café, as of now, trying to devise an ecotherapy that takes better account of the historical reality of agricultural labour and the limitations of our manmade landscape.

So what’s the book about? Carlo Levi was a young doctor and vocal left-wing opponent of Mussolini in Italy in the 1930’s, he was ‘banished’ for a year to one of the most remote and ‘backward’ parts of the country - a mountain village beyond Eboli.

Levi, C (1982) Christ Stopped at Eboli Penguin: London

Imitable Jeeves (updated 2020)

(What follows are a series of short parodies of P G Wodehouse’s Jeeves stories which I wrote as family emails some years ago. My father was of the generation which automatically read Wodehouse as ‘light reading’. I’m not aware that my sister or niece ever read him, but they did both enjoy the Clive Exton TV adaptations broadcast between 1990 and 1993 starring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry. I’m the one who is the real addict. Hearing a BBC radio adaptation in the early 1970’s prompted me to roam the half a dozen or so Jeeves paperbacks on my father’s bookshelves. That particular Penguin edition had on the back cover a quote from Evelyn Waugh about how the stories released the reader from the real world into something much more idyllic, he also predicted that the effect would be even greater in the future as our world grew grimmer! My experience has been a little different, as I grow older I find myself interpreting the world more and more in Wodehousian terms; as I people-watch, an internal dialogue between Bertie and Jeeves often erupts, in which the absurdity of others behaviour must be made a source of amusement in order maintain one’s sanity. The first dialogue, from 21.11.09, looks forward to my sister returning from a work trip to Africa.)

(photo by Nick Hewling)

I say Jeeves when is my sister due back from her latest inspection of the Dark Continent?

I couldn't say sir.

Some of her photos make it look quite inviting. Perhaps I should undertake an expedition?

I couldn't advise it, for a gentleman of your description sir.

What do you mean you couldn't advise it!

It has well been said sir, that Africa is only for those with a commanding personality and considerable strength of character.

Precisely, condemned out your own mouth! I take it Cook's do a tour.

I fear it would take you away from England for many months.

Well, I'm sure my friends can manage without me for a while - get packing Jeeves.

Sir! It will require several weeks just to purchase the necessary tropical outfits and camping equipment.

Camping! No, no, no. We shall stay in the best hotels.

I'm afraid sir, they all have a tendency to be several thousand miles apart.

All right, all right. I give in. Bring out the Michael Palin DVDs and fetch me a whiskey and soda.

(This one, penned on the 2.12.09, looks forward to Christmas.)

Well Jeeves, the festive season is upon us.

Indeed, sir.

Therefore the burning question of the hour is; which one of this array of invitations above the hearth should we accept?

Sir! Forgive me for pointing it out, but this service flat has the latest central heating. There is no hearth.

Jeeves! I was speaking figuratively, as well you know.

I see, sir.

Don't you yearn for an open fire, for crumpets toasted over a yuletide log?

I hesitate to mention it sir, but if we are to descend on any one of the residences to which you have been invited there will be nothing but open fires in the middle of winter!

Quite.

Chilly sheets and ice on the insides of windows during the morning hours.

Sounds quite romantic.

Not a situation inclined to induce good feeling in the servant’s hall, sir. Parlour maids are generally required to rise an hour before other staff in winter in order to have fires lit in all bedrooms before 6,00am.

Ah, now! Was it not you who pointed out only the other day whilst running my bath, that the doorman Jarvis is required to descend five times a day to the basement in order to stoke the boiler so that we can enjoy this central heating! Umm, well?

Sir, I..

I say, you're not still mooning over that scheme of yours to winter in Provence are you?

Antibes has many attractions for a young man of your description sir, and if the timing is right, can be accessed in little over 24 hours with only two changes of train...

Enough, Jeeves! Never mind showing-off your knowledge of Bradshaw and foreign railway timetables, we shall be spending Christmas with the least objectionable of my relatives - it's just a question of working out which they are?

Very good, sir.

If we ignore them all, we'll get it in the neck from all of them. If we go to one, then at least we have a passable excuse for not going to the others. I shall set my mind to the problem.

At what time would you like to be awoken sir?

No, no, I shall be totally focused on the question in hand. Jeeves, who are the least objectionable of my relatives?

I really couldn't say sir. Perhaps you should attempt to ascertain which other guests are likely to be present before coming to a conclusion. Equally, consideration might be given to the quality of food and availability of alcoholic beverages, and whether, in the absence of the aforementioned, there are good local hostelries to repair to.

Jeeves your cynicism astounds me - aren't you at all moved by the thought of Christmas?

I try to resist succumbing to a sentimental urge, sir. One should always be mindful that it was the popular Victorian moralist Charles Dickens sentimental urge to improve the lot of the working classes which led him to pen the ghost story known as A Christmas Carol, and which subsequently led to many of the current absurdities of modern winter feasting.

Now, don't start getting pompous about The Carol, Jeeves! I've known it backwards since I was a child. I've half a mind to read it aloud to my young niece.

I couldn't advise it sir, the young lady is approaching seventeen and will almost certainly have a portable musical device secreted about her person for the express purpose of fading-out any intrusive adult.

Well then, I shall read it to my father!

He no doubt will use the opposite strategy to achieve precisely the same outcome, sir.

I don't follow Jeeves?

Hearing aids can be turned down as well as up, sir!

Well, what about my sister and her friends?

It has well been said that a public performer needs to know how to cope with hecklers...

Enough! The boat train Jeeves, Victoria isn't it, 5 minutes past midnight, platform 3?

Indeed, sir.

(..and on Christmas Day I sent the following.)

Good morning sir. Your breakfast tray!

What time is it Jeeves?

Ten past nine, sir.

Ten past nine! Is the building on fire?

No, sir. I thought you might care to take breakfast now - in light of events.

Events? The only event, if I remember rightly is that I left the casino at 2,00am. Now is no time for bringing in breakfast, especially on Christmas Day.

It was events at the casino to which I was referring sir. If I might venture the opinion, a hasty return to England might be advisable.

But Jeeves, I won! Handsomely as it happens. I'm on a winning streak.

Precisely, sir.

What's the matter, have you suddenly developed a moral objection to your employer having a gamble.

No, sir. It is just that a winning streak never lasts.

Ah, but I have my system Jeeves.

And so do the casinos, sir. They take great exception to losing large sums of money and will make strenuous efforts to take it back again - with interest.

What, you don't mean strong-arm tactics surely?

Not at all sir, they simply know that if they can keep you at the tables long enough, then their profits will be restored. They have already approached the manager of the hotel with a view to paying your bill and having you upgraded to a more superior suite.

I don't get it Jeeves, it will cost them a packet!

No sir, if they can keep you here for another week they will undoubtedly come out ahead.

Well, of all the bally nerve, spying on their customers - think my credit's not good enough do they?

On the contrary sir, the purpose of checking someone's credit is to ascertain which of their patrons can afford to lose the most, and then encourage them to do so.

And if I go on winning?

Then you will simply be barred, sir.

What!

It is always the successful who are banned from casinos, sir - never the losers.

Well what about your professional gambler then?

Professional gamblers are not particularly wealthy sir. They simply make a good living by travelling from one gambling resort to another, making modest gains at each casino and being careful not to draw attention to themselves.

Good lord, Jeeves! Do you know everything?

I really don't know.

I say, that chef has failed to do my boiled eggs, again! I can't be doing with scrambled.

We are in France sir. English habits are not always respected.

Indeed not, where is the best place to spend New Year?

I am told the Highlands of Scotland...

(It was too tempting not to continue – from 1.1.10.)

I blame you for this Jeeves!

Perhaps we are not keeping our eye on the ball with sufficient assiduity sir.

In case you hadn't noticed the Norwegian's are blowing a force 10 gale at us.

It was your expressed wish to visit the 'home of golf' sir.

Only after you put the idea of Hogmanay in my mind. As it is we only just got here in time!

We did make the journey from Provence to London in record time, sir.

Only to find the London and North Eastern on a go-slow for the entire festive season. And as for that last train, it was positively Victorian.

Indeed sir, the journey has changed little since the time of the late Queen, we can count our blessings we only had to travel the one stop from Leuchars to St. Andrews. The other passengers will have had to continue along the coast via Boarhills, Pitmilly West, Crail and Anstruther before re-joining the main line north of Kirkcaldy...

Enough Jeeves, you're putting me off my stroke.

I do apologise sir.

Damn! Did you see where that one went?

The mist does seem to be closing in. Perhaps one should heed the lesson of Robert Tyre Jones Jr, sir. When as a very young man he came to the Old Course for the first time he played badly, had a temper tantrum and left the championship after eleven holes of the third round, citing intense dislike of the course. Nonetheless he returned and won The Open in 1927 choosing to leave the cup here at the Royal and Ancient, and so won the hearts of the Scottish people.

So, you think I need to take lessons from Bobby Jones on how to be a gentleman, Jeeves?

Oh, no sir, I merely...

Don't think I haven't noticed the way you talk of a 'gentleman of my description', not just a 'gentlemen', always the qualifier huh?

Be in no doubt sir, there is no one else I'd rather be employed by - you offer a life of rare interest and variety. I cannot think of another gentleman who would provide such a challenge to my capabilities.

Very well Jeeves. But you do know that some people think you have me under your thumb.

Heaven forbid sir! May I suggest a five iron next - just to get us back onto the fairway?

(And finally on 20.9.10.)

Well Jeeves, what do you think? Romantic what! Dawn rising, or is it sunset, over the water hole?

Sir! May I enquire as to the purpose to which you intend putting such an illustration?

It's a birthday card for my sister - what with her being an old Africa hand.

You wish your sister to know you associate her with a herd of elephants?

Oh, not psychology again Jeeves.

Indeed sir, visual images are a lot more powerful than words.

Every picture tells a thousand stories and all that?

Something of the kind!

But just think of all the positive associations - they live a terribly long time, their skin is as tough as old boot straps, they can be aggressive when they need to be, pore torrents of foul water on the unsuspecting...

Precisely sir.

And they never forget, and always return... Jeeves I think I'm starting to hallucinate, that picture is transforming before my eyes into a regiment of Aunts - with Aunt Agatha at the head of them! Suddenly I feel the chill at sunset on the savannah.  

Shall I prepare our morning bath sir? It will have a soothing affect and whilst you wait may I recommend a whisky and soda - purely for medicinal purposes.

(In 2018 I found myself wondering if such a relationship as Jeeves and Bertie Wooster could exist in the 21st century? I concluded that it couldn't. So I came up with Sparkwell and I - tales of a personal therapist. See sidebar link.)