In particular, I became (and still am) fascinated by his aphoristic work The Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises, which captures the essence of his philosophical ideas. Such an introduction to the powerful thought of Kazantzakis led me to track down more of his works. Despite my discomfort with the American Dafoesque portrayal, I felt this to be a highly positive account of Christ, far more accessible and empathetic than that found in the Gospels. On the contrary, although not particularly religious myself, I was profoundly attracted to this human Jesus, painfully struggling as he was between an acceptance of his own tragic, divine destiny and the temptation to bypass that suffering and live a normal, comfortable life, but consequently fail in his mission. However, unlike the majority of God-fearing viewers that recommended that Kazantzakis be anathematised from the human race, I did not find it offensive. I first stumbled across the name Nikos Kazantzakis when I settled down to watch Martin Scorcese’s production of The Last Temptation of Christ, a film that has raised more eyebrows and received more complaints than any other film I can remember. Novelist, playwright and journalist disciple of Nietzsche, Bergson and Buddha admirer of Christ and Lenin praised by Thomas Mann, Albert Schweitzer and Albert Camus, his works are the external expression of an inward cry that seeks answers to the most profound questions of existence. Although a national hero in his beloved homeland of Crete, Kazantzakis has failed to achieve the recognition in England that he so richly deserves. Lewis Owens on the uphill path of Nikos KazantzakisĪlthough many people may have heard of the novels Zorba the Greek and The Last Temptation of Christ, both of which have been adapted into films, it appears that few are so familiar with the name of the author, Nikos Kazantzakis.
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