The High Mountains of Portugal - Yann Martel (2016)

The High Mountains of Portugal, written by Yann Martel and published in 2016, is a philosophical and whimsical novel that blends adventure, grief, and magical realism. The novel is structured in three interconnected parts—“Homeless,” “Homeward,” and “Home”—each following different characters across time as they navigate loss and seek meaning. Set against the backdrop of Portugal in the 20th century, the novel intertwines historical fiction, a detective-like quest, and profound spiritual musings, all delivered with Martel’s signature storytelling flair.

Plot Summary

In the city of Lisbon, at the dawn of the twentieth century, a man named Tomás walks backward through the streets. It is not madness that drives him, but grief—a sorrow so consuming that it has turned his world in on itself. His lover, Dora, and their young son, Gaspar, were taken by illness, and days later, his father collapsed and died, leaving him utterly untethered. The past is the only direction that makes sense to him now, and so he moves through the world facing what has already been rather than what is to come.

Tomás, once an assistant curator at the National Museum of Ancient Art, has become fixated on an old diary he discovered in the archives, written by a 17th-century priest named Father Ulisses. The diary speaks of a wondrous object hidden in a remote church in the High Mountains of Portugal—an artifact of extraordinary craftsmanship, unlike anything else in Christendom. It is a crucifix, but the priest’s words suggest that it is no ordinary representation of suffering and salvation. It is something new, something strange, something forgotten by time. Tomás decides to find it.

With the reluctant support of his wealthy uncle, he sets off in an automobile, a contraption as new and unfamiliar as his grief. The journey is a struggle, the roads unkind, the machine temperamental. His uncle’s insistence that this is the future does little to comfort him when the engine stutters, the wheels sink into the mud, and the maps prove unreliable. But the road must be traveled. The High Mountains of Portugal rise before him, ancient and indifferent, and somewhere within their folds, the object waits.

As the days pass and exhaustion sets in, the journey takes on a feverish quality. The mountains seem to conspire against him, their twists and turns leading him deeper into uncertainty. When he finally reaches the village, he finds the church and enters its cool, shadowed interior. And there, hanging in the chancel, he sees it—the crucifix that Father Ulisses described. But it is not what he expected. It is grotesque, bewildering, something almost blasphemous in its strangeness. The figure of Christ, carved with uncanny precision, does not suffer meekly; it does not submit. It is defiant, powerful, something other than the passive savior he has seen in every other church. He stares, trying to understand, but the weight of the journey, the weight of his grief, presses down upon him. He collapses.

Decades later, in the bustling town of Bragança, a pathologist named Dr. Eusebio Lozora is called to perform an autopsy on a woman whose husband insists that she carries within her a great mystery. He is a man of science, trained to seek truth in the body, to find answers in the tissue and the bone. But as he works, the dead woman speaks to him—not in words, but in symbols, in memories that do not belong to him. His hands move through the incision, uncovering something impossible, something that does not belong in the human form. The logic that has guided his life falters. Science bends under the weight of something older, something inexplicable.

As the night deepens and his work continues, the lines between past and present blur. He recalls the stories his wife used to tell him—fables, allegories, whispered fragments of a history that never made it into textbooks. The world, he begins to realize, is not bound by the limits he once believed. There are threads connecting moments across time, invisible but unbreakable, leading back to places he has never seen, to people he has never met. By the time the autopsy is finished, he is no longer certain of anything. The body before him is both ordinary and divine, a message written in flesh that he is unable to decipher.

Years pass. The twentieth century marches on, and across the ocean in Canada, a man named Peter Tovy walks through a primate research facility, searching for something he cannot name. He is newly widowed, his wife gone after decades of quiet companionship. The grief is not the sharp, unbearable kind—it is something slower, something that erodes rather than shatters. He does not know what he is looking for, only that he must find it. And then, among the cages, he sees a chimpanzee.

The creature’s gaze meets his, and something old and unspoken passes between them. Peter buys the chimpanzee, names him Odo, and together, they travel to Portugal. The High Mountains call to him, though he has never been there before. He buys a house in a village where no one quite knows what to make of the man and his animal companion. He and Odo settle into a quiet rhythm, living in parallel—two creatures out of place, yet finding solace in each other.

Days stretch into months, and Peter begins to see the world through Odo’s eyes. There is a simplicity to his way of being, a presence that is not troubled by regret or uncertainty. Grief loosens its hold. In the evenings, he walks through the village, Odo at his side, and listens to the wind moving through the trees, whispering secrets older than human sorrow.

One day, deep in the mountains, Peter discovers an old church, its doors heavy with time. Inside, dust hangs in the air, caught in shafts of sunlight. And there, on the wall, is a crucifix unlike any he has ever seen. The figure carved in wood is powerful, unbowed. It does not beg for mercy. It does not weep. It watches.

Odo moves closer, his dark eyes fixed on the strange Christ. There is recognition there, understanding beyond language. And Peter, watching him, feels something shift. The past and the present fold into each other, and for a moment, everything is still.

The mountains remain. The roads wind on. The world, vast and unknowable, continues its quiet turning.

Main Characters

Tomás – A grieving young man in early 20th-century Lisbon who, after losing his lover, son, and father, embarks on a quest to the High Mountains of Portugal in search of a mysterious artifact mentioned in an old priest’s diary. He walks backward through life—both literally and figuratively—as a symbol of his deep sorrow.
Dr. Eusebio Lozora – A pathologist in 1930s Portugal who is drawn into an unusual autopsy, revealing strange connections to the past and questioning the boundaries between science, faith, and storytelling.
Peter Tovy – A Canadian senator in the 1980s who, after his wife’s death, adopts a chimpanzee named Odo and moves to the High Mountains of Portugal, seeking solace and a new understanding of companionship and love.
Father Ulisses – A 17th-century priest whose diary holds the secret to a peculiar religious artifact, sparking Tomás’s journey.
Martim Lobo – Tomás’s wealthy uncle, an automobile enthusiast who provides him with the vehicle for his journey, representing modernity and rational progress in contrast to Tomás’s emotional and spiritual turmoil.

Theme

Grief and Mourning – Each protagonist suffers profound loss, and their respective journeys symbolize different ways of processing pain, whether through physical quests, intellectual pursuits, or emotional bonds.
Faith vs. Reason – Martel explores the tension between religious belief and scientific understanding, often blending the two in surreal and allegorical ways.
The Power of Storytelling – The novel plays with narrative structures and storytelling itself, using layered tales, diaries, and mythical elements to shape reality.
Animals as Spiritual Guides – From a symbolic rhinoceros to a deeply empathetic chimpanzee, animals serve as sources of wisdom, companionship, and transformation.
The Search for Meaning – Each section of the novel features a character on a journey, whether physical, intellectual, or emotional, reflecting humanity’s eternal quest for purpose.

Writing Style and Tone

Yann Martel’s prose is both lyrical and philosophical, rich with allegory and surreal imagery. His storytelling weaves between historical fiction, magical realism, and existential inquiry, creating a tone that is at once whimsical and deeply introspective. The novel often shifts between the mundane and the fantastical, using lush descriptions and intricate narrative layers to blur the boundaries between reality and metaphor. Martel’s playful yet profound voice invites readers to engage with big ideas—faith, love, and loss—through an imaginative and unpredictable narrative.

His writing echoes the fable-like quality seen in Life of Pi, employing unexpected juxtapositions (such as a man driving backward or a senator living with a chimpanzee) to explore profound themes. Humor, melancholy, and wonder coexist, making the novel both thought-provoking and emotionally resonant.

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