Patrick Leigh Fermor's The Violins of Saint Jacques

This is Patrick Leigh Fermor, who may well be described as legendary. I have just finished reading his only novel, The Violins of Saint Jacques, which is a lusty, dreamy, liquid thing; a tale of humour and humanity in an anachronistic society on a Caribbean island; here the Masques of the islanders mingle with the balls of the aristocrats; little boys dressed as wizards set deadly snakes free at parties; people live and love to the full, in a way that seems impossible now. Elopements, betrayals, forbidden desires and characters drawn so vividly they dance before your eyes long after you've closed its luscious pages.