Ruprecht, a kóbor zsoldos bejárja Olaszhont és az Amerikákat, számos veszélyt átél, amiből kardjával mindig kivágja magát – de mi ebből nem látunk semmit. Mert mi Ruprechttel akkor találkozunk, amikor visszatér szülőföldjére, hogy naptól-széltől cserzett arcát a hazai fényben fürdesse kicsit. Szóval ez a könyv alkalmasint ott kezdődik, ahol az átlag kalandregények végződni szoktak. De azért mi, olvasók se maradunk hoppon, mert hősünk hazatérése nem úgy alakul, ahogy várta, el sem jut a szülői házig, hanem összefut Renátával, aki kicsit szent és kicsit boszorkány (mikor melyik), és ezen tulajdonságával feje tetejére állítja szegény zsoldosunk életét. Merthogy az említett hölgyemény megbűvöli őt, az érzelmek olyan kötéseit hozva létre kettejük között, amit egy mérsékelten racionális személy is bízvást egészségtelennek mondana.

Különös könyv ez. Kalandregény, ami mégsem az, szerelmi történet, ám az unortodox fajtából, és ennek tetejében gazdag gyűjteménye a 16. század ezoterikus hagyományának. Alapvetően két titka van, ahogy látom:
1.) Az európai történelmet egy kiváltképp érzékeny pontján ragadja meg: egyfelől eleven a korszakban a babona, a mágia iránti vonzalom, az inkvizíció nagyon is aktív, és minden bokorban boszorkányt sejt. Ugyanakkor rohamosan terjed a reformáció és a humanizmus is, össze nem békíthető eszmerendszerek feszülnek tehát egymásnak, ami forrongó szellemi közeget eredményez. Ezt a világot Brjuszov egészen plasztikusan vetíti elénk, minden során érződik a masszív tudásanyag, és a téma iránt érzett hő szerelem.
2.) De a legemlékezetesebb mégis talán Renáta figurája, aki páratlan nőalakja az irodalomnak. Első blikkre mintha egy két lábon járó pszichológiai tünetegyüttes lenne: bipoláris, epileptikus, talán skizofrén is, hol szenvedélyes, hol jéghideg, hol kegyetlen, hol együttérző, hol neurotikus, hol egzaltált, mindig mindenből a szélső értékeket mutatva. Szexi dög, tudós és apáca egy testben, aki úgy váltogatja személyiségeit, mint más az alsóruházatát. Igazából nem is Ruprecht a főhős, így belegondolva, ő csak passzív elszenvedője egy nála nagyobb, és felettébb rakoncátlan erőnek, a szenvedélynek, amely úgy dobálja ide-oda, mint vízibiciklit a tengeri vihar. Hjaj, csak pozdorjává ne zúzódjon a parti sziklákon.

Elfelejtett remekműve ez nemcsak az orosz, de a világirodalomnak is. Olyan szöveg, ami gazdagságával, elevenségével, szereplőivel és leírásaival is folyvást le tudott nyűgözni. Jó volt olvasni, bár ez nem független attól, hogy az Európa Kiadó általam olvasott 1973-as kiadása az egyik legpraktikusabb, leginkább olvasásra termett könyvformátum, ami az utóbbi időben a kezembe akadt: kellemes lapméret, optimális súly és fogás, satöbbi. De valószínűleg ha egy kupac koszlott zsírpapírra nyomták volna, akkor is tudtam volna értékelni. Valószínűleg. Örülök, hogy nem kellett kipróbálnom. ( )

A late novel of obsessive love and the black arts by the Russian symbolist, Valeri Briussov. Set in late Medieval Germany, in the company of Faust and Agrippa and the oppressive power of the Roman Inquisition, the novel is presented as a memoir of the protagonist's (the emotionally quixotic Landsknecht Rupprecht of Cologne) destiny upon leaving his parental home in disgrace, and his return to the German lands after an extended and remunerative exile in the Americas. The story is a classic exemplar of fate guided/set in motion by the "femme fatale" - the real fiery angel of this novel: not of this world, but half of Heaven, harrowed by Hell.

In The Fiery Angel, the occultist adage "as above, so below", applies. It is a protracted distress, a 392 page account of a Manichaeism of the heart and psyche, of the "bipolar disorder" of the cosmos. If I had to sum it up in a sentence: Love does not conquer all, but is a challenging (and often absurd) agent of Light errant in Dark lands. ( )

Got into this through the opera. Weird stuff. A bit slow and heavy maybe - but then again it is a russian fin-de-siècle symbolist novel written as a medieval manuscript...

Read if you're into the turn-of-the-century esoteric stuff. ( )

I like Prokofiev’s opera which was based on this novel, but, like many operas, some of the plot explanations had to be cut for the medium. Prokofiev wrote some beautiful music for the character of Renata – alternately radiant or weird, and often repetitive – catching her obsessive, bordering on hysterical, personality. Bruisov gets a similar effect in the novel – Renata is the fiery, bipolar center of the book and it sags a bit whenever she’s offstage.

The book provided much more in the way of background and explanations – as well as wrapping it all up at the end, instead of ending on a climax. While Prokofiev kept a number of the most dramatic scenes – the duel, the deceptive demon knocking and the nun demon possession at the end, he cut out what would really have been a great scene – the hallucinogenic Witches’ Sabbath. Maybe he just thought that the Witches’ Sabbath orgy and nun orgy at the end would be too much, but really - can you have too many orgies in an opera? He retained Rupprecht’s wandering off to visit Agrippa and his encounter with Faustus and Mephistophilis, but though these are interesting in both book and opera, they break up the claustrophobic momentum of the Rupprecht-Renata relationship.

The plot follows Rupprecht, a knight returning from war and travels to his native Germany in the 16th century. He stays at an inn for the night and hears some cries – meeting Renata when he goes to investigate. She tells him her backstory – as a child, she was visited by an angel, Madiel, who told her she would be a saint. He was her best friend and confidante, and she came to love him more than her friends and family. However, when she was older, she wanted a physical relationship with him which infuriated him and caused him to abandon her. Renata believed she found Madiel again when she met Count Heinrich and went off to be his mistress, but he abandoned her after a couple years. Rupprecht falls in love with Renata and goes with her on her search for Heinrich. Along the way they encounter knocking demons, practice black magic, run into the Inquisition and go through a number of love/hate phases.

Rupprecht is the narrator, but he, like many of the other characters, is just caught in Renata’s whirlpool of obsessions. Renata combines the extremes often seen in the female characters of Gothic/supernatural tales from the 19th c. She portrays herself as the seduced and abandoned woman, but is also the sexually aggressive pursuer of, at various times, Madiel, Heinrich and Rupprecht. She is both devoted to religion and uses black magic for her own ends. While often shown in hysterics, Renata can be much more clearheaded that Rupprecht and is good at manipulating people. And she’s a saint to some, in league with the devil to others. It’s interesting to speculate on her visions – she could be crazy (though the fact that others witness the events makes that less likely), actually seeing an angel, or going along with a Satanic vision. Does she believe her own story? Rupprecht catches a number of lies – so he can’t trust everything she says, and some of her behavior (pretending not to know anything about magic, then jumping in enthusiastically) indicates her deception. But the extremes she goes to and her end suggest that she’s in some way deluded herself, if it’s made up. Likely a case of her believing that the ends justify the means (will do anything to get Madiel/Heinrich back). In some cases this is quite creepy – but touches on more recognizable relationship issues.

Despite all the supernatural trappings, the relationship dynamics of Renata, Rupprecht and co are painfully true to life. Renata takes up X as fervently as Y (adding in Madiel, Heinrich, Rupprecht, religion, black magic, being a nun) – her passion and intensity both attracting and repelling. She viciously uses Rupprecht, treating him cruelly and throwing him aside when she thinks she’s about to find Heinrich. However, on a number of occasions she told him to leave her alone and made it extremely clear that she didn’t love him. His obsession with her does border a bit on stalking. I can think of plenty of relationships where one person is devoted, the other not interested – but the not interested party finds it convenient to keep the other around. Renata decides she wants to use magic to find Heinrich – they can go to a Witches’ Sabbath and make a deal with the devil. Only, she can’t because she has to remain “pure” for Heinrich – so Rupprecht can go and get damned instead of her – pretty creepy. A bit like someone saddlebacking to remain a technical virgin. But Rupprecht goes along with it, and isn’t free from manipulations himself. He in turn uses another woman who does love him, Agnes, as an emotional dumping ground – he goes to her when he can’t stand his situation with Renata and talks about nothing but Renata while she patiently listens. A number of triangles, quadrangles, relationship pentagons are formed with Renata, Rupprecht, Heinrich, Agnes and Madiel. At times, the whole mess is the just a claustrophobic pit of despair, with Rupprecht trapped in a number of ways – among the best-written parts.

Rupprecht is a veritable Forrest Gump of 16th century Germany – he runs into Agrippa and Faustus and Mephistophilis. These parts were the weakest I felt – seemed a bit thrown in to add to the atmosphere, but takes the focus away from Rupprecht and Renata. Both encounters provide a comparison to Rupprecht’s feelings towards Renata – he initially believes Renata is innocent and injured, but changes his views as he gets to know her and realizes she is lying. He also believes that Agrippa has renounced magic in favor of scientific texts to help mankind, but Agrippa’s end suggests otherwise. Similarly, Rupprecht thinks that Faustus is a kindly learned old man (though not too fond of Mephistophilis) and defends him – however, a setup to reveal Faustus as a charlatan has a rather discomfiting result – and various Faustus stories would certainly tell the reader that Rupprecht’s judgment was wrong. In addition, the two medieval personalities provide a comment on the times – moving away from the belief in magic to reason (both deny their use of magic, say they really only want to help people) and but the fact that this doesn’t work out for Agrippa and Faustus indicate that the switch isn’t going to solve everything, like some people might want to believe. From any historical event etc – the sleep of reason can produce monsters. Still, the two non-Renata parts do provide some humor. Agrippa is annoyed that everyone remembers him for his early treatises on magic, not his later writings – like some musicians who are mad when everyone only wants the old, familiar popular songs. And of course Mephistophilis runs around wreaking havoc.

Medieval history isn’t my thing, so can’t comment on the accuracy of the setting portrayed, but overall a captivating read. ( )