The Master of Ballantrae

The summer months lend themselves to ambitious and utopian reading projects. Some people set their minds on catching up on the classics they haven’t read, others on immersing themselves in epic narratives, whilst others plan to finally study that author they’ve long yearned to explore. The starting points may vary, but the outcome is always the same: failure. So, before venturing into the thousands of pages of Proust or the multilingualism of Joyce, there might be a better idea this summer: reading "The Master of Ballantrae" (edited by Masolino d’Amico and featuring an essay by Jean Echenoz), a few hundred pages in which you’ll encounter marvellous adventures across locations scattered around the world, devilish sea dogs, two brothers who couldn’t be more different, the conflict between Jacobites and supporters of the English monarch, the stifling Scotland of the eighteenth century, and the most complex of all human institutions: the family. "The Master of Ballantrae", born of a reverie by Stevenson and written between the Canadian border and Honolulu, recounts the stark contrast between two brothers who, for the sake of a family determined not to lose its privileges, find themselves on opposite sides of the divide: the eldest, James – sharp, unstoppable and diabolical, one of Stevenson’s most compelling characters (and the competition, as we know, is fierce between the pirate Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins, and between Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde) fights alongside the rebels, whilst the younger brother, Henry—who will always remain in his brother’s shadow, unable to excel but eager to do so—stays behind to uphold the crown. Against a backdrop of dynastic struggles, of loves that reluctantly yield to expediency, of adventurous sea voyages, of an exotic and hallucinatory America, and of a complete lack of scruples when power is at stake, this fratricidal clash unfolds, culminating in a candlelit duel that will be the highlight of your summer (at least until you reach the gripping conclusion).

Robert Louis Stevenson

Adelphi, 314 pp., 22 euros