The thing that spurred me into properly picking up Justine, was a nice blend of situations. In a way it was the complexity of the plot and the intricate, almost filigree nature, of the prose that meant I kept picking it up but never reading more than a handful of pages. I think I bought a copy of The Alexandria Quartet, after getting hooked on the TV series The Durrell’s (loosely based on Gerald Durrell’s Corfu Trilogy), but did not ever get more than a few pages in for some time. I cannot actually remember when I started reading Justine. Before getting into my memories, I feel it is worth clarifying that I am not talking about the novel by the Marquis de Sade, although I’m sure that would provide many interesting memories to explore. This time I am reminiscing on Lawrence Durrell’s Justine. As the second of my Books by Memory series this is a rather tangential book review that uses memory to approach a book, rather than focusing in a more analytical way.
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