«Ήμουν δώδεκα χρονών όταν πρωτομίλησε στον πατέρα μου ο Θεός. Δεν μίλησε πολύ. Του είπε να γίνει ζωγράφος, μα δεν μπήκε σε περισσότερες λεπτομέρειες».
Στο Δουβλίνο, ο πατέρας του Νίκολας παρατάει τα πάντα προκειμένου ν� αφοσιωθεί στη ζωγραφική. Σ� ένα νησί της δυτικής Ιρλανδίας, η νεαρή Ίζαμπελ φεύγει για τη μεγάλη πόλη, κουβαλώντας μια βουβή ενοχή. Πατώντας στα χνάρια του μαγικού ρεαλισμού, ο Νάιαλ Ουίλλιαμς γράφει για την αμφιβολία και την πίστη, για το πάθος και την παραίτηση, για τη συντριβή και το απρόσμενο θαύμα, καθώς διηγείται την ιστορία δυο ζωών που οδεύουν ανεπίγνωστα μα ακαταμάχητα προς το πεπρωμένο τους.
Niall Williams studied English and French Literature at University College Dublin and graduated with a MA in Modern American Literature. He moved to New York in 1980 where he married Christine Breen. His first job in New York was opening boxes of books in Fox and Sutherland's Bookshop in Mount Kisco. He later worked as a copywriter for Avon Books in New York City before leaving America with Chris in 1985 to attempt to make a life as a writer in Ireland. They moved on April 1st to the cottage in west Clare that Chris's grandfather had left eighty years before to find his life in America.
His first four books were co-written with Chris and tell of their life together in Co Clare.
In 1991 Niall's first play THE MURPHY INITIATIVE was staged at The Abbey Theatre in Dublin. His second play, A LITTLE LIKE PARADISE was produced on the Peacock stage of The Abbey Theatre in 1995. His third play, THE WAY YOU LOOK TONIGHT, was produced by Galway's Druid Theatre Company in 1999.
Niall's first novel was FOUR LETTERS OF LOVE. Published in 1997, it went on to become an international bestseller and has been published in over twenty countries. His second novel, AS IT IS IN HEAVEN was published in 1999 and short-listed for the Irish Times Literature Prize. Further novels include THE FALL OF LIGHT, ONLY SAY THE WORD, BOY IN THE WORLD and its sequel, BOY AND MAN.
In 2008 Bloomsbury published Niall's fictional account of the last year in the life of the apostle, JOHN.
His new novel, HISTORY OF THE RAIN, will be published by Bloomsbury in the UK/Ireland and in the USA Spring 2014. (Spanish and Turkish rights have also been sold.)
Niall has recently written several screenplays. Two have been optioned by film companies.
"Falling slowly sing your melody I'll sing along" -- Falling Slowly, Songwriters: Glen Hansard / Marketa Irglova
Almost two years ago I read Niall Williams History of the Rain, which I loved, it remains among my favourites. Last year, I read the first of a series of four books he wrote along with his wife, which share their experiences of leaving their life and careers in New York City and moving to a small cottage in the land of their ancestors, the everyday ins and outs of life in their little corner of Ireland. I felt the call to return to the magic of his stories, and to revisit the magic of County Clare, Galway, and the Western Isles.
”When I was twelve years old God spoke to my father for the first time. God didn’t say much. He told my father to be a painter, and left it at that, returning to a seat amongst the angels and watching through the clouds over the grey city to see what would happen next.�
Until that day, his father had spent his weekdays inside his office as a civil servant. Their lives would change overnight. His father would leave his wife and son, Nicholas, to fulfill this command over the summer months. Two years pass with no income, and then his mother is gone. When another painting trip to the western coast comes up, Nicholas manages to convince his father to allow him to come along. It will prove to be a memorable trip in many ways.
”The words have vanished and I am left mostly with pictures of my early childhood: my father in a grey suit coming in the front door from the office in the fog of November evenings, the briefcase flopping by the telephone table, the creak in the stairs and across the ceiling above the kitchen as he changes into a cardigan and comes down for his tea. The great shelf of his forehead floating up above the line of a newspaper in response to some question.�
After a few years spent in his own civil service office job, Nicholas goes in search of one of the paintings that his father painted on that trip to the coast, where so many of his memories pull him back to now and again, hoping to purchase it back from the man, a poet, who won it in a raffle. He meets not only the man, but also the man’s wife and their son. The son is wheelchair-bound following an incident involving his sister, Isabel, who is no longer living at their parent’s home. Eventually, Nicholas will meet her after an occurrence that can only be described as inexplicably wondrous. Isabel, now attending a convent school, seems to have developed a rebellious side, and life in this convent sends her in a decidedly un-nun-like direction.
”It was the game she loved at first... She would hear the footsteps and laugh, putting a hand to her mouth to catch it quickly, throwing back her hair and standing up to get ready, holding off that look in her eyes that was proud and victorious until she was already down the corridor and out through the front door once more, feeling the wind like an embrace and the raw kiss of freedom.�
Life. Death. Nature. Destiny. Devotion. Art. Facing our doubts. Faith - in ourselves, our abilities, our choices, and in the spiritual sense, and Love being the ultimate expression of our faith. The choices we make, as well as a sense of spirituality are a significant part of this story, but with a bit of magical realism woven throughout. The lyrically rhythmic writing took my breath away, made my heart ache and then melted it all over again with the beautifully descriptive imagery, and an enchanted story that is filled with sad moments, but, oh, so much love.
I liked this book very much. It is the second book I read of Niall Williams� oeuvre, the first being his most recent work, “This is Happiness� (2019), and I liked that one a great deal too. This is his first work of fiction (1997)…he had 4 previous works prior to “Four Letters of Love� that were co-authored with his wife Christine Breen, and memoirs of living and traveling in Ireland.
I read this book in one sitting perhaps in part because I was struck by a comment on the inner front cover by Marianne Faithfull, an English singer, songwriter, and actress who became one of the lead female artists during the British Invasion in the United States (As Tears Go By): “I never thought I would find such an honorable and well-written book about love and truth, men and women, heart and despair � Four Letters of Love is a joy, an acutely evocative and sexual story…and my God, I wouldn’t put it down.� So if she could read it in one sitting, then I could too! 😊 But it turned out it wasn’t a challenge I made with myself that made me read it in one sitting…I did so because it was such a satisfying read. In reading his most recent novel (This is Happiness), I was struck by the beautiful prose so much I bookmarked different passages. I did not do any such bookmarking in this read � I was content with just marveling at some sentences and passages as I read them.
There are two central protagonists Nicholas and Isabel, and to give away the circumstances under how they met would give away pretty much the main point of the novel. We learn a great deal about them, however, before they meet. We learn about their parents who also have their own interesting stories to tell. We learn of Isobel’s little brother Sean who one day has an accident on the beach when he is 10 and Isobel is 11. Once a lively chap, he is struck dumb with some mystery illness and is never the same again. She harbors a great deal of guilt for that, although nobody blames her for it. But it influences her choices later on in life. Nicholas was a young boy when his father was told by God to paint…and so the father obeyed God but by doing so caused a great deal of pain for Nicholas and his mother. Or as Nicholas in the first paragraph of the book put it: When I was 12 years old God spoke to my father for the first time. God didn’t say much. He told my father to be a painter, and left it at that, returning to a seat amongst the angels and watching through the clouds over the grey city to see what would happen next.
The last sentence of the book was so important and so beautiful I read it 3 times. I’ll probably return to it (13 lines of text!) because it brought so much satisfaction and pleasure to me (now that’s a way to end a story!).
Random notes: � I ordered this book a long time ago from abebooks.com after reading his latest work “This is Happiness.� I wanted to read all of his works. When I pulled it out of its mailer yesterday something struck me about the book jacket like I had seen it before. So eventually I went to one of my bookcases where I have Irish and UK literature and sure enough there it was � I already had the book! I even had a November 1997 book review of it from The New York Times (reviewed by Katharine Weber, author of “Objects in Mirror are Closer Than They Appear� and “Music Lesson�) nestled in its pages. But I had never read the book. � Marianne Faithfull on April 21 was discharged from the hospital following a three-week hospitalization from COVID-19, having fully recovered from the virus.
Reviews: � “Four Letters of Love is formed with an unusual authority and grace, and it is filled with marvelous characters, large and small, all depicted with an understated veracity.� � Notable Book of the Year, The New York Times Book Review � “A compelling meditation on love, art and the vicissitudes of fate.� � San Francisco Chronicle � “While a wealth of impressions linger from this debut, two words come most often to mind in describing it: Spellbinding. Brilliant.� � starred review, Kirkus Reviews � “This book can rightly claim its place among the classics of Irish literarure. A wonderfully affecting love story.� � Belfast Telegraph � “A breathtaking affirmation of magic, miracles and the power of human love.� � The Times � “Thoughtful, wonderfully wrought passages that soar and soar. Highly recommended.� � Library Journal
What glorious writing! What sublime storytelling. This writing is like the weather: organic, inevitable but not always predictable. Time flies like wind. Ireland is palpable in the people and the terrain and the silence between the words. The title is absolutely right. This is intricately interconnected stories of love: love as infatuation mistaken for something else in the tumult of young hormones, the secret guilt that informs the way we receive or reject love, fantasies of love, and the real thing between parents and children and true spouses—love through all the cross-wiring that comprises human beings.
If you’ve ever walked into a room and found it full of former inhabitants, or if you have a sense of the invisible connections between all of us, or if you “know� there are no accidents, even if you can’t explain that, you will feel deeply at home in the poetry of this book. If you know none of these things, you may still feel a curious sense of home as the book’s heart wakes up your own.
Beyond that, I don’t want to pull this apart, recount the plot, or in any way analyze. The book is art and it speaks for itself to anybody who feels drawn to wonderful writing.
Thank you to Cheri, whose review sent me to this book.
Ah, I am torn between a 4 and a 5 for this exquisitely beautiful novel. I fear it has only scored a 4 from me, because I have lost the ability to truly fall into the warm pool of luscious descriptive prose and linger there longer than I should. So at times, I found myself skim reading - which was a terrible crime in the face of such beautifully crafted literature. So I would go back, and read it again properly. And now I have gone back and changed my 4 to a 5.
This book really takes the reader on a stunning journey, almost with the feel of a fairy tale, with strange and mystical characters whom you feel deeply connected, as if you know their own joys and sorrows. I could feel their breath catch, their pulse race, and sometimes, their heart's break - at different times throughout novel. I would have to describe Niall Williams as an Irish Alice Hoffman for me. His words paint pictures, that I have to close my eyes and envisage often as I am reading his books. Simply beautiful.
Fall of Light moved me so deeply when I read it a few years ago, but only now have I read another by this Irish author. His style is very lyrical & mystical, yet grounded in a sense of place and history that drips with affection for Ireland. His characters are very spiritual and he invites in the fantastic to explain both tragedy and happiness. There is a traditional love story woven through the narrative, although the lovers do not meet until the end. The principal characters are a civil servant in Dublin who seeks to understand his father's drive to be an artist and why it destroyed his family and a young woman from the Aran Islands (off the west coast of Ireland) who comes of age at a Catholic school in Galway and in the arms of a selfish lover. The minor characters- the parents, sibling, neighbors and lovers, are remarkably complete. The story is wistful, the plot centered on love and redemption.
I really wanted to like this book, but I think it's just not my style. His writing is definitely beautiful, but to me it felt like too much description and not enough plot. There was almost no dialogue through the whole book. And I have to admit, after finishing it, I just don't get it. I'm not even sure how it really ended since the ending was written almost entirely in poetry rather than in clear language. I hate to give it only 2 stars because his words really are beautiful and lyrical, so I think for someone who loves words and word images, this would be a great book. I, however, look for something different in a book. I want character development, relationships, interesting and creative plots, and progress towards a goal. I like to walk away feeling like I've learned something, rather than just feeling like I've enjoyed reading beautiful words. Mostly, I love to read a book that makes me feel like I've stepped in to that character's world for just a little while, like I'm experiencing their life, and I didn't feel that with these characters, partly because I didn't understand what they were feeling. So it wasn't that this was a bad book, it just wasn't a book that I personally enjoyed. It's the difference between what an English major would enjoy and what a science and math minded person like myself would enjoy.
Like other reviewers, I found this book’s premise promising. The wild, windswept setting of western Ireland; a family shattered by childhood illness; a strange but tender father-son relationship. The writing too, had its moments. But halfway through, it started to lose me. The pace slowed, the same images and metaphors were over worked and the prose became purple rather than poetic. There were also some glaring language/grammar gaffes which I’m sure the author is kicking himself about now. I had the distinct feeling that this last section of the book just hadn’t had the same attention paid to it as the first. It felt like a first draft. Did the publishers rush him to finish it, I wonder...? The plot also took a turn for the worst as far as I’m concerned. What others have described as magical realism seemed fantastical and overly sentimental to me. The fact that the two main characters hardly get to interact struck me as odd, especially as it is suggested their relationship is pre-destined. There were the seeds of some really engaging characters here; whether the lack of dialogue was to blame or something else I’m not sure, but they just didn’t come alive for me in the end.
The epigraph to this book is Ovid's 'Lovers pave the way with letters.' It's a great pity we don't write love letters much any more (love emails and love texts just don't have the same alliterative ring nor can they 'pave the way', with such promise)... but this is a marvellous, lyrically-written, magical book about love, by a man. Why am I surprised? Because most men aren't brave enough to write about love with such honesty and yearning and a sense of the mystical. But this man is an Irishman and this book is proof that the Irish sensibility allows a man to write about love like an angel. I remember synaesthetic scenes: words becoming ribbons and music becoming veils of colour. Throughout the book Williams suggests that love is a kind of mystical madness, a kind of heartsickness, a soulfully troubling matter that must be borne with hope and then the rewards will come, eventually. It tells us that to love is to find oneself and that love is a spiritual quest. Beautiful.
One of the best books I've read in a long time. I just loved the imagery of Williams' writing, so much so that I underlined many of my favorite passages in the book. Here's some just to give you an idea:
He did not rise for work the next day, nor the one after that. When he did finally arrive at the office, Flannery sitting across the table from him saw at once the embedded dagger of one-way love still hanging from between my father's ribs.
and,
rings of ice cream round their mouths and saddles of freckles across their noses
and another,
walking a few inches above the surface of the island, carefully placing his feet and taking each step across the air with the concentration of a tightrope walker...let his swimming eyes go without blinking as the world turned watery before him.
But every line of this book is, as my friend Claudia would say, "pure poetry." There's not many people that can write like this. And, my favorite line of the book:
Love does not pass;it simply changes shape. It takes a different form when it meets an obstacle that will not move.
Wow!!! I am speechless... The writing is music. I took my time reading, paused after almost every chapter, savoured the magic conjured by words. My first book by this writer, definitely not last! 5+ ⭐️
This is a book of miracles. Most of them made me cringe, except for one: That someone who wrote this book was able, years later, to write wonderful books like History of the Rain and This is Happiness. Read them instead.
So good. Something quite magical about it, though I'm neither religious nor a romantic! My first book by this author, but will definitely read him again.
I loved this book. So poetically written. I didn’t know where it was going but it went down a beautiful path. A great Irish lyrical piece of literature.
Στο πρώτο βιβλίο του Ιρλανδού συγγραφέα (το ολοκλήρωσε το 1997 μετά από μακρά συγγραφική διαδικασία) κάθε του φράση, κάθε του λυρική περιγραφή είναι διαποτισμένη από την ατμόσφαιρα του Σμαραγδένιου Νησιού. Ένα νεαρό δωδεκάχρονο αγόρι, ο Νίκολας, αφηγείται σε πρώτο πρόσωπο το πώς ο πατέρας του υποστήριξε πως ο Θεός του υπαγόρευσε να παραιτηθεί από τη δουλειά του και να αφιερωθεί στη ζωγραφική. Αποτέλεσμα αυτής της «υπαγόρευσης» είναι η εγκατάλειψη της οικογένειας για μεγάλα χρονικά διαστήματα λόγω των ζωγραφικών ταξιδιών του στη δυτική Ιρλανδία. Στη συνέχεια, ο άλλος κύριος χαρακτήρας του βιβλίου, η κοπέλα που θα αγαπήσει ο Νίκολας, η Ίζαμπελ, μια προικισμένη πνευματικά και εμφανισιακά νεαρή, γεμάτη ενοχές όμως για τη συμφορά που βρήκε τον αδερφό της, προχωρά σε έναν καταστροφικό γάμο με έναν άλλο νεαρό χωρικό, παρότι οι γονείς της έχουν υψηλότερες φιλοδοξίες για το μέλλον της. Ούτε ο Νίκολας, όμως, ούτε η Ίζαμπελ μπορούν να ξεφύγουν από το πεπρωμένο. Έξυπνα γραμμένο και στοχαστικό, άλλοτε μελαγχολικό, άλλοτε αισιόδοξο, το μυθιστόρημα εστιάζει τόσο στον βαθύ έρωτα όσο και στις οικογενειακές σχέσεις και την ιδιόμορφη παρουσία του Θεού στην Ιρλανδική κοινωνία. Η λεπτότητα της γραφής του Ουίλιαμς συγκινεί και προκαλεί την πίστη μας στα «θαύματα» και στην άποψη πως όλα συμβαίνουν για ένα σκοπό. Το βιβλίο, το οποίο μεταφράστηκε σε τουλάχιστον 10 γλώσσες, κυκλοφόρησε το 1998 στα ελληνικά σε μετάφραση Χριστίνας Σακελαροπούλου για τις εκδόσεις Λιβάνη και είναι εδώ και καιρό εξαντλημένο. Η μετάφραση της Δέσποινας Κανελλοπούλου (επιμέλεια Μαργαρίτας Ζαχαριάδου) για τις εκδόσεις Δώμα (2024) που διάβαζα εγώ είναι άψογη και αποδίδει εξαιρετικά τις ιδιαιτερότητες της γραφής του Williams και το κλίμα του βιβλίου.
A julgar pelos sinais encontrados em Quatro cartas de amor o livro estava nas prateleiras tem bem mais de dez anos. Infelizmente eu não consigo me lembrar quando, porque e nem onde o comprei. Digo infelizmente porque resultou de uma das melhores leituras de 2016.
Quatro cartas de amor me faz lembrar das tags criadas pelos canais literários: livros que você tem medo ler ou algo parecido. Pois é eu tinha muito medo de ler o livro, que tem um dos começos mais impressionantes que eu já havia lido. E era tão fantástico para mim, que eu tinha receio de ler o livro e me decepcionar. Então de tempos em tempos eu pegava o livro lia aquele começo que tanto me impressionava e parava por ali.
Até que dia desses ao terminar de ler O nosso juiz e chegar na prateleira para escolher o novo livro para ler, topei com este Quatro cartas de amor. Então resolvi encarar e foi uma leitura incrível feita no momento certo. E isso é muito importante, tenho cá para mim que se o tivesse lido antes não estaria preparada para ele.
A escrita de Niall Williams é poética e matizada de cores, sinto as palavras como quem degusta um vinho. Encantou-me tanto que busquei saber um pouco mais sobre aquelas cidades mencionada na narrativa, e as imagens são tão belas quanto as pintadas pelo autor.
Não sei se indicaria esse livro para toda a gente, é um livro sobre perdas, que tem tudo para ser melancólico, mas que não resultou assim para mim.
Grifos: "Quando eu tinha doze anos, Deus falou com meu pai pela primeira vez. Deus não disse muita coisa. Ele mandou meu pai ser pintor e parou por aí (...) " [começo inesquecível]
"O tempo não passa, mas o sofrimento cresce. "
"Algumas coisas não se prestam muito a serem contadas. Acho que meu pai sabia disso."
Second reading Dec 21-24, 2020 This is an absolutely beautiful book. I will read it again and again and also pick it up and refer to passages and sentences I have now underlined in my second reading.
First reading Dec 13-21, 2020 Gorgeous. There are so many passages that I wanted to underline but I let myself just read this once through and get lost in it and let the prose wash over me. Now I am going to go back and read it a second time and underline all the gems.
I found this, Williams' first novel, not nearly as focused, funny or worldly as his 8th, History of the Rain. In fact I would say the whole first section (150 pages) of Four Letters of Love was overblown, sentimental and unnecessary. This could have been a very satisfying novella. Or short play. The good news: writers can (and some do) get better.
Torn about how to rate this book, because for the most part, it's beautifully written with language that simply flows and takes you away. That being said, it was not my usual kind of book and I sometimes found myself skimming. Hence the 3 stars.
What an extraordinary book! I thought it had all come together in the final pages. But having then read the Afterword and then the Introduction .. and then the first few lines again, I realised just how clever it was.
I can now officially declare that Niall Williams is my favourite Irish writer. Four Letters of Love was his first book and it is utterly delightful. Once again I fell in love with Williams� heady mix of lyrical prose and wonderful characters along with his gentle spritz of magic realism.
FLOL also has one of the best opening lines I’ve read in quite some time.
"When I was twelve years old God spoke to my father for the first time."
I get homesick for Ireland. That sounds silly considering that I was born & grew up in New England. I've been to Ireland once: for 2 weeks. Niall Williams brought me back there. His writing was descriptive, lyrical & every phrase was saturated with the atmosphere of the Emerald Isle.
I honestly felt the spray of the Atlantic on my face, breathed in the tangy salt of the air, slid down the icy streets of Dublin City & gazed thru silver mist toward the Irish mainland. Everytime I opened the pages of this book, I was transported to the field of the West where William painted, sat in the pub with Muiris, dusted the immaculate counter of the patron less shop with Isabel, & dwelled in the land where fairies are real, & Fathers come back from the dead to guide their lovelorn sons.
The only reason I gave this book 4 stars instead of 5 was because we don't get to witness the reuniting of Isabel & Nicholas. We don't find out where their journey takes them, but at least we are left with the hope of "happily ever after" & I can't think of a more likely place of that to happen than in Ireland!
Adding this now, though I read it a few years back (twice). I am a huge fan of Williams because of the sheer force of his writing. I'm not sure if he is more poet than novelist, but I found myself stopping to catch my breath in many places. As the son of an errant Irish artist, I suppose I also found resonance in the story itself -and though I am not always won over by magical realism, Williams' handling of it is compelling. How else do you capture the idea that love is both owned by and resonant with the very order of the natural word - that the discovery of love runs with the grain of the universe? I will retun to 'Four Letters' as soon as I can find my copy... it is a book I intend to read again and again...
A first novel but he had written four non-fiction books before with his wife about local life. A romantic story with fantastic twists that are quite believable. The descriptive turn of phrase is often breathtaking and compensates for the rather slow pace of the plot, which doesn't really get going until the final quarter of the book. This book is about the style of its telling rather than the story itself.
I love this book. The writing is so beautiful that I found myself reading it aloud. As I writer I read my own work aloud all the time, but I can't remember the last time I did that with someone else's writing. I'm not much of a romantic, but I felt so caught up in the stories of these people, so intimately drawn into their lives and loves, that I was swept away by it all. It's going on my 'keeper' shelf to be reread when I feel the need for a little beauty in my life.
While I really loved Williams' latest book, 'History of the Rain' (it was my favorite of the 13 books on the 2014 Booker Prize longlist), for the majority of this, I was much less enchanted. While the language, as always, was exquisite, I found the story slow going and not terribly engaging. That changed at about 2/3 of the way through, and the last third went like gangbusters and ultimately redeemed what came before.
I truly love this book. I've read it twice and it remains my favorite. I can't even begin to express how beautiful this book is and what it means to me...in so many ways. First reading was July of 1998.
I thoroughly enjoyed this short work, from beginning to end. I am really looking forward to reading the memoir that the author, Niall Williams, co-wrote with his wife, Christine Breen, "O Come Ye Back to Ireland: Our First Year in County Clare"