n  Perhaps she would have liked to confide in someone about all these things. But how does one express an uneasiness so intangible, one that changes shape like a cloud, that changes direction like the wind? She lacked the words, the occasion, the courage.n

Some blame it on novels packed with sentimentalist kitsch; some point out her too-lofty dreams, her too-narrow house, so that the higher she raised the bar of happiness the harder it got to climb; some direct their anger at her reckless financial transactions that put her family in bankruptcy; some are disappointed at the lack of her sense of duty towards her husband and the small child; some dub her a coward for committing suicide when her secrets were about to get out, renouncing the chutzpah that had propelled her to devise rash schemes. In short, everyone thinks her as silly, stupid, selfish, vacuous, impulsive, unrealistic, et cetera, even an evil woman, [insert more abuse], bent on destroying herself and her family, echoing, in a way, Madame Tuvache's assertion that such women ought to be whipped. Many of us think Emma had no good excuse to set herself on a path to self-destruction, to which Flaubert might have replied: "None of you can see past your ideological filters."

Amid this torrent of condemnation we conveniently fail to see in the mirror that which Flaubert, in his deadly neutral voice, shows us unflinchingly at every major turn of the story, by employing his sad and delectable repertoire of irony: the pretentious milieu that's trapped in appearances; those stiff-collared times that judged you by your complexion of wealth; that suffocating morality which hypocritically reinforced itself through the very structures it claimed to fight. But we still forget that she prayed for a son when she got pregnant. She did not even look at the baby girl when she was born with the wrong gender. This is how Emma wishes to abandon her womanhood to realise her illusory dream:

n  She wanted a son; he would be strong and dark, she would call him Georges; and this idea of having a male child was a sort of hoped-for compensation for all her past helplessness. A man, at least, is free; he can explore every passion, every land, overcome obstacles, taste the most distant pleasures. But a woman is continually thwarted. Her will, like the veil tied to her hat by a string, flutters with every breeze; there is always some desire luring her on, some convention holding her back.n

Every woman today, in any corner of the world, who doesn’t want to give birth to a girl carries a little of Madame Bovary in her.
Emma, for me, is a doleful shadow of her times who seems out of step precisely because she was possessed of an untamed intelligence and unbridled passion that could find no outlet in the restrictive channels available to her. If you allow me to quote a quatrain of Omar Khayyam: There was a door to which I found no key / There was a veil past which I could not see / Some little talk awhile of me and thee / There seemed, and then no more of thee and me.

Emma’s inexorable and inevitable decline fits the metaphor of a river about to burst out of its banks with tsunamic abandon, destroying itself and everything in its wake, all without recourse to its own free will. In the greater scheme of things, however, Emma is a quest for absolute happiness, for wealth, for station, for recognition, that eludes humanity at its heart. Why, when we possess all the indicators of a reasonably happy life, we still feel the pangs of ennui like a spiritual victim of an equivalent of a Somali famine? Emma provides us with an answer, and this is where she becomes universal, revealing to us a truth about the human condition. In a brilliant moment of self-actualisation Emma sees her profile reflected in the mirror, her hands and eyes so large, so dark, so deep, and says to herself again and again:

n  "I have a lover! A lover!” reveling in the thought as though she had come into a second puberty. At last she would possess those joys of love, that fever of happiness of which she had despaired. She was entering something marvelous in which all was passion, ecstasy, delirium.n

It turned out to be a mirage. Happiness did not come. Love did not last. She was rediscovering in adultery all the platitudes of marriage. No matter what Emma did or thought, whatever path she undertook, she could find no answer to the enigma of existence.

But where does Mr Charles Bovary fit in all this? He ticks all the boxes of a “good husband” and a “good man.” He is moderately middle class, a respectable medical practitioner who loves his wife, does not argue with her, respects her personal choices, excuses her whimsical lifestyle. On paper, and before getting to know him, Charles is a husband any woman would want. But his conversation was as flat as a sidewalk, and everyone’s ideas walked along it in their ordinary clothes, without inspiring emotion, or laughter, or reverie. He makes love without passion, speaks without wit, walks without a gait, and displays no fascination for life. He is humourless; he has no personality. Simply put, Charles can’t make Emma laugh and Emma can’t stand his stupid face.

n  For, after all, Charles was someone, always an open ear, always a ready approbation. She confided many secrets to her greyhound! She would have done the same to the logs in the fireplace and the pendulum of the clock.n

Charles listens to her like a pendulum of the clock or a log in the fireplace! Later, during a bout of disquietude she wished Charles would beat her, so that she could more justly detest him, avenge herself.

Flaubert enthralls the reader with his clauses towed to long sentences with judicious deployment of semi colons along the way. The continuous ebb and flow of his prose has a soporific effect on the mind. He enriches an image with choice details to highlight the mood of the setting and of the character. You do not find a spurious detail that does not add something to the narrative. The writing is remarkably modern for its time, light and airy, so different from the suffocating formality of Victorian English. There are dozens of instances I can cite of Flaubert’s beautiful, balanced, brilliant prose, his use of irony that makes this novel what it is, but that would push this write-up beyond the confines of a review and make it an essay. Suffice it to say that the sheer variety of reaction to Emma Bovary is an emphatic tribute to Flaubert’s craft.

All direct quotes in italics
May 2015

Cada vez estoy más convencido de que la forma, el estilo, es lo que marca la diferencia en un relato, mientras que lo contado no deja de ser una condición necesaria pero insuficiente y pudiera ser que ni siquiera fuera necesaria. Comprendo perfectamente a Flaubert cuando desea…

“Lo que me parece hermoso, lo que quisiera hacer, es un libro sobre nada, un libro sin atadura externa, que se mantuviese por sí mismo por la fuerza interna de su estilo, como la tierra sin ser sostenida se mantiene en el aire, un libro que casi no tuviera tema o al menos en el que el tema fuera casi invisible, si puede ser.”.

Pues bien, ese estilo, esa forma que tanto le costó al autor conseguir en su novela, es lo que no he sabido disfrutar como seguramente debiera. Parafraseando al autor, hay perlas, magníficas, brillantes, pero el collar no acaba de sentarme bien.

Todo lo demás funciona. La trama está perfectamente estructurada, desarrollada y bien contada, a veces espléndidamente bien contada. Los argumentos, interesantes, desde la crítica social (aunque ahora algunos de los personajes nos puedan parecer clichés) hasta ese tema, el principal, tan bien resumido en la frase siguiente:

“Agostando toda dicha a fuerza de quererla demasiado grande.”.

Y Emma, el gran personaje que no puede dejar indiferente a nadie, lleno de matices y ante quien nuestra postura nos calificará sin remedio.

“Acostumbrada a las cosas tranquilas, se inclinaba, por contraste a las accidentadas. Le gustaba sólo el mar por las tempestades, y el verde sólo salpicado entre ruinas. Necesitaba sacar de las cosas una especie de provecho personal; y rechazaba como cosa inútil todo lo que no contribuía al consumo inmediato de su corazón, pues de temperamento más sentimental que artista, buscaba emociones y no paisajes.”.

Habrá quien alabe su rebeldía ante todo aquello que no cumple sus elevados requisitos, quizás quiméricos; habrá quien critique su egoísmo; habrá quien guste de su rabiosa búsqueda del goce, de la aventura excitante, ese gusto tan wildesiano por lo superfluo; habrá quien le reproche su personalidad caprichosa e irresponsable; habrá quien guste de su ingenuidad, su frescura, su inconsciencia; habrá quien rechace su cursilería, su romanticismo folletinesco… y habrá a quien todo ello le parezca la composición magnífica de un ser humano.

Mi edición de la novela (traducción de Consuelo Bergés) viene rematada con la correspondencia del autor en la que se alude a la novela, y en la que encontré algunas cosas sorprendentes.

Lo primero es que la personalidad del autor no ayuda mucho a encariñarse con su obra, cosa de prejuicios a los que soy especialmente sensible. En este sentido, estoy absolutamente de acuerdo con Flaubert cuando dice aquello de que “los ídolos no hay que tocarlos: se queda el dorado en las manos.”

En segundo lugar, me llamó mucho la atención la posición del autor frente a sus personajes y frente al tema de la novela:

“Piensa que tengo que entrar a cada cinco minutos en pellejos que me son antipáticos.”

“A veces la vulgaridad de mi tema me da náuseas, la necesidad todavía en perspectiva de escribir bien tantas cosas vulgares me aterra.”

“Tengo que hacer grandes esfuerzos para imaginar mis personajes y después para hacerlos hablar, pues me repugnan profundamente.”.

Lo cual, según su propio argumentario, suponía un punto a su favor.

“Cuanto menos se siente una cosa más apto se es para expresarla exactamente”

“No hay nada peor que poner en arte sentimientos personales (..)Tu corazón, alejado en el horizonte, lo iluminará en el fondo en lugar de deslumbrarte en el primer plano.”.

Y, por último, me sorprende el sufrimiento con el que escribió la obra, el hercúleo esfuerzo que le suponía cada página, cada frase, casi cada palabra. (aunque no descarto el, como dirían mis hijos, simple postureo).

“Me da vueltas la cabeza y me arde la garganta de haber buscado, bregado, cavado, contorneado, tartamudeado y gritado, de cien mil maneras diferentes, una frase que por fin acaba de terminarse. Es buena, respondo de ello, ¡pero no ha salido sin esfuerzo!”.

Un tipo de comentario que se repite hasta la saciedad en las muchas cartas que escribió durante los cuatro años que tardó en concluir la novela, pero, cómo el propio narrador llega a decir:

“La palabra humana es como una caldera rota en la que tocamos melodías para que bailen los osos, cuando quisiéramos conmover las estrellas.”.

"Di dove le veniva quell'insufficienza della vita, quella putrefazione istantanea di tutte le cose su cui s'appoggiava?"

Ho iniziato la lettura di Madame Bovary senza conoscerne la storia, nonostante il libro sia famosissimo; mi aspettavo onestamente un contenuto completamente diverso da quello che ho incontrato.

Forse perché non avevo grandi aspettative o forse semplicemente per il suo valore intrinseco, fatto sta che il romanzo di Flaubert mi ha entusiasmato.

Mi ha entusiasmato per l'efficacia della scrittura; non ricordo noia, non ricordo episodi ridondanti, non ricordo difficoltà di lettura. Ricordo solamente la nitidezza delle situazioni, la definizione accurata dell'ambiente sociale della provincia francese, la meravigliosa caratterizzazione dei personaggi, la struttura lineare del romanzo.

E mi ha entusiasmato il modo in cui viene trattato il soggetto. Emma, forse a causa delle letture romantiche e sentimentali fatte in gioventù, si crea grandi aspettative dalle relazioni sentimentali e dalla vita in genere. E queste aspettative si scontrano irrimediabilmente con l’esistenza mediocre e provinciale in cui le tocca barcamenarsi al fianco di un marito buono e onesto, ma anche poco intelligente e di scarsa ambizione. Emma sfoga la sua passione verso due amanti e si dedica all'acquisto di oggetti superflui ed inutili, che le servono per tentare di salire nella scala sociale. Ma nulla la soddisfa, nulla la appaga, nulla le dà motivazione.

Emma si sposa sperando di poter vivere i suoi sogni e i suoi smisurati desideri. Quello che però ottiene invece è la monotonia del matrimonio, la mediocrità del marito, la razionalità calcolata dei suoi amanti di fronte alla sua smisurata passione, nemmeno un barlume di affermazione sociale e neppure il figlio maschio che avrebbe desiderato, unica via di uscita per riscattarsi.

"Ma per lei, ecco, l'esistenza era fredda come un solaio esposto a settentrione, il silenzioso ragno della noia tesseva e ritesseva la tela nell'ombra, in ogni cantuccio del suo animo"

Un'anima in pena, Emma. Non c'è tregua per lei, non c'è soddisfazione, non c'è pace, nemmeno dopo la sua morte, quando viene vestita, quasi a sfregio, col vestito bianco da sposa.

E' disdicevole o immorale la sua condotta? Sicuramente sì, secondo i canoni dell'epoca e direi anche secondo i nostri. Ma tutto a questo mondo è relativo e la sua figura, comparata con la mediocrità, meschinità e perbenismo dei personaggi che la circondano è rivalutata, nonostante tutto.

Disdicevole e immorale, Emma, ma commovente per la sua situazione di profondo disagio, anche dello stesso esser donna:

"Una donna ha continui impedimenti. A un tempo inerte e cedevole, ha contro di sé le debolezze della carne e la sottomissione alle leggi. La sua volontà, come il velo del suo cappello tenuto da un cordoncino, palpita a tutti i venti, c’è sempre un desiderio che trascina, e una convenienza che trattiene".

Un personaggio, Emma, che non dimenticherò facilmente.

Madame Bovary is Gustav Flaubert's most famous novel and realistically tells the story and the sinking of a young woman. The subtle language, the characteristic detailed descriptions let you dive into a completely different world. And even if the story comes from a completely different time, there are so many parallels to ours. There are many possibilities for interpretation and also the psychological aspect is not neglected. Madame Bovary's story, especially when you consider the time the novel was written. He was a scandal then. There was even a trial. Despite its age, the book is timeless and therefore always up-to-date. If you are interested in French culture, you should have a look at this exciting book. Gustave Flaubert is one of the most brilliant authors of his time, whose genius and complexity is also reflected in this book. If, however, one takes a deeper look at the novel, one discovers the many parallels and understands the skill of the author, who tries to portray the image of society at that time. Absolutely worth reading.

"Los libros que el mundo llama inmorales, son aquellos que muestran al mundo su propia vergüenza." Oscar Wilde

Cuando uno termina de leer "Madame Bovary" sabe que puede encarar la reseña que escriba desde distintos ángulos. La novela, transgresora y vanguardista en sí, el proceso constructivo que Gustave Flaubert aplicó para ella, lo que la novela generó en Francia en 1857, el tema del adulterio tratado a favor y en contra aún hoy, la personalidad de Emma Bovary e incluso el juicio al que Flaubert tuvo que someterse ese mismo año y del que salió airoso.Trataré brevemente de tocar estos puntos.
Cuando una novela rompe todos los esquemas, automáticamente se generan dos bandos: los que la aplauden de pie y los detractores que quieren destruirla junto con su autor. Casos en la literatura hay varios. El "Ulises" de James Joyce, "El guardián entre el centeno" de J. D. Salinger, "Crimen y castigo" de Fiódor Dostoievski, "El retrato de Dorian Gray" de Oscar Wilde y hasta "Don Quijote de la Mancha" de Cervantes molestaron e incomodaron a muchos por sus temáticas.
Cuando la sociedad no logra asimilar una obra (de arte) el rechazo es fuerte y hasta lleva décadas digerirlas. Considero que también sucede lo mismo en la pintura.
Lo cierto es que en el Segundo Imperio francés, donde Napoleón II ejercía junto a la Iglesia un férreo control sobre los que se publicaba, esta novela cayó mal y fue juzgada.
Era la primera vez que se establecía una diferencia muy puntual, la de diferenciar al autor del narrador. Era el estilo literario lo que rompía esta regla sustentándose en el estilo indirecto libre y la escritura impersonal.
Gustave Flaubert es llevado a juicio acusado de "ofensa a la moral pública y religiosa" francesas y muy poco tiempo después Charles Baudelaire será enjuiciado por los mismo cargos siendo culpable mientras que Flaubert no.
Los motivos de la fiscalía para enjuiciar eran según sus principios más que sobrados: el tema que dominaba a esta novela era el adulterio de Emma Bovary con ¡dos! amantes. Muy arriesgado para su época, Flaubert se jugó todo narrando una historia fuerte, como nunca antes el público había leído.
Para crear el personaje de Emma Bovary, Flaubert se nutrió de dos casos reales sucedidos unos años atrás en Francia que puntualmente hablaban de dos mujeres que engañaron a sus maridos, uno de ellos fue un pintor conocido en esos años. Ambas terminaron en suidicio.
Estas mujeres se llamaban Delphine Delamare y Louise Pradier. De esta forma, Flaubert amalgamó ambas historias y las fusionó en la figura de Emma Bovary.
Venía de un traspié literario, "La tentación de San Antonio", que reescribiría después, ya que el proyecto de esta novela le requirió la utilización de todos sus sentidos. El resultado es brillante e inolvidable.
Se ha escrito mucho acerca de Madame Bovary. Los verdaderos expertos y críticos coincidirán en la excelencia de la novela y especialmente en la estructuración del personaje de Emma Bovary, uno de los mejores logrados de la literatura.
Algunos llegaron a definir a Emma Bovary como "el Quijote con faldas". La comparación con el Caballero de la triste figura es interesante. Quijotismo y Bovarismo se asemejan. Don Quijote se afana por las conquistas de batalla en cada una de sus aventuras, la normanda busca lograr conquistas amorosas. Ambos buscan evadirse de su realidad cotidiana. Don Alonso Quijano ve gigantes en los molinos de viento, la esposa de Charles Bovary cree visualizar en sus amantes a los héroes que leyó en sus novelas.
Y es precisamente que Emma es una mujer extremadamente romántica encarcelada en una novela realista. Nuevamente citamos al Quijote. A uno la lectura de tantas novelas lo hizo tomar la lanza y buscar aventuras asido a su locura. A Emma, la lectura la lleva utilizar la ficción para conquistar a sus amantes en la vida real.
Pero todo es realismo en esta novela. Ese detalladísimo realismo flaubertiano con sus descripciones interminables del paisaje o del ambiente en el que viven los personajes ponen al lector en su sitio.
Diferenciándose del realismo de Balzac orientado a la burguesía parisina que junto con esas novelas de Stendhal se basan en el ascenso social, el de Flaubert recala en la anodina vida de los habitantes de provincia, casualmente allí donde Emma parece no encajar.
El tedio, aburrimiento e inconformismo de Emma se percibe ya desde las primeras páginas. Es una eterna soñadora. Emma y Charles son el día y la noche. Rápidamente se da cuenta del error al casarse con este medicucho intrascendente y sus autobombardeos psicológicos irán arrinconándola al vicio del engaño, a querer arrojarse en los brazos de otros hombres.
En un maravilloso artículo escrito por Charles Baudelaire en el diario L'Artiste en 1857, este define con perfección a Flaubert y a Emma Bovary: "Al autor, para culminar completamente su hazaña, no le quedaba más que despojarse (en lo posible de su sexo) y hacerse mujer. El resultado ha sido una maravilla, ya que no ha podido evitar infundir sangre viril en las venas de su criatura, y que Madame Bovary, en lo que ella tiene de más enérgico, ambicioso y soñador, no ha dejado de ser hombre."
Emma está dotada de un carácter forjado en hierro, pero recubierto de sensibilidad y pasión amorosa incontrolable. Dista mucho de ser una Eugenie Grandet. Es todo lo contrario. Fogosa, impulsiva y apasionada desde sus primeros momentos en Tostes hasta el descontrol de sus andanzas en Yonville, dónde todo transcurre.
Es más, da a luz una hija, Berthe, pero esta aparece muy poco en la novela. Recién sobre el final toma cierto protagonismo, pero no reviste gran relevancia. Aquí el protagonista principal es el corazón de Emma, secundado por su mente febril e imparable.
Los restantes personajes de la novela son muy importantes, en especial el boticario Homais quien deja en protagonismo un poco atrás al marido de Emma, Charles Bovary para imponer su personalidad avasallante.
Luego están sus amantes, el joven pasante Léon y el gentilhombre que la apasiona con sus encantos, Rodolphe Boulanger. Entre estos dos hombres, Emma dividirá su corazón y será objeto de sus más eróticos deseos y pasiones.
Emma pasa de ser apasionada a obsesiva. Comienza a tener problemas económicos suscitados por tantas escapadas clandestinas. Sufre desengaños, colapsa y por último cae sobre ella el martirio y un peor final.
Ya en la tercera parte de la novela, corre nuevamente hacia a los brazos de Léon, luego vuelve a Rodolphe. Está arruinada psíquica y económicamente. Sufre desvaríos, descontrol y delirio. Acorralada por las deudas, defraudada por sus amantes y hastiada por su desastrosa vida, cae en picada.
El final es inminente. El mismo autor lo anticipa: "El porvenir era un pasillo negro, en cuyo fondo solo e veía una puerta cerrada."
Flaubert escribe en la última página un final irónico y paradójico. Como si cerrara la historia en una horrible mueca del destino, el personaje principal ya no está, pero termina destacándose otro más impensado. Las últimas líneas de esta novela me remiten directamente a las de "La metamorfosis", de Franz Kafka.
Si tienen un minuto para leerlas, creo que encontrarán esas similitudes.
Comencé esta reseña con una frase de Oscar Wilde, porque considero que fue a partir de libros como este la forma en que la literatura supo imponer su predominio en las sociedades. La crítica por la crítica misma se cae ante la falta de argumentos.
Emma "se ocupa de leer novelas, libros inmorales, contrarias a la religión y en las que hace burla de los curas, con citas sacadas de Voltaire" condena la madre de Charles de la misma forma que un pacato fiscal que se llamó Ernest Pinard y que en 1857 quiso crucificar a Flaubert.
Lejos están, tanto en la ficción como en la realidad de lograr sus fines.
Estos libros son necesarios para darnos cuenta de lo importantes que somos los seres humanos y de que no hay ley ni crítica que pueda doblegar nuestros espíritus en busca de la verdad y la libertad.

"Só as obras bem escritas hão-de passar à posteridade"
Conde de Buffon

Consta que Gustave Flaubert teria afirmado já no final da sua vida - qualquer coisa como: "eu vou morrer mas a puta da Bovary vai sobreviver".
E sobreviveu! Também o levou à barra do tribunal; a sociedade puritana da época não estava preparada para admitir a existência do adultério ou ver questionada a doutrina da igreja, nem a burguesia gostou de ter o dedo apontado na sua direção. Mas o livro sobreviveu, eternizou o autor e mantem-se mais atual do que parece à primeira vista.
Até meio do livro achei exagerado o epíteto atribuído à Bovary. Pareceu-me simplesmente uma rapariga embriagada de sonhos desmedidos, nascidos da leitura de revistas e romances, que aspirava a uma vida de luxo e opulência. (está ou não está actual?!) Aborreceu-se com a vida monótona do campo e desiludiu-se com a simplicidade e falta de objetivos do marido. Lentamente, foi fechando os olhos à realidade e mergulhando num universo de fantasia. O seu refugio foi também a sua ruína e as suas atitudes fizeram-na merecedora da alcunha.
Tanto ou mais que a história, o livro seduz pela escrita. Profundamente realista, G. Flaubert pinta quadros na nossa imaginação. A narrativa é rica em figuras de estilo, expressiva e fluida.
Sendo a personagem principal, são os pecados de Emma Bovary que saltam à vista, mas, na verdade, toda a aldeia de Yonville é uma caricatura dos principais pecadilhos.
As últimas páginas do livro, foram o coroar de glória. O triunfo da ambição desmedida e do oportunismo. Apetece fechar o livro com um estrondo e dizer:
- "Cambada de farsantes, suplantaram a Bovary!"

95th book of 2021.

3.5. So glad I finally read this even though I failed to find the apparently superior translation by Lydia Davis. That being said, Wall's translation is still stunning and is a testament to the stories about Flaubert labouring every single phrasing in his work. My main problem with it is that as a 19thC novel it is fairly predictable in its plot. In fact, most of the time you can guess how novels of this period wrap-up. The ending did carry some emotional weight though, helped by Flaubert's prose. I suppose contextually this novel becomes more powerful by Emma Bovary's actions/thoughts as a woman of the time and being written by a man no less. Nowadays adultery doesn't raise the eyebrows like it used to, of course, but it's easy to imagine what this was like at its publication. I almost gave this book 4-stars for the prose alone but honestly I was rather bored reading it at times and read it very slowly, only stomaching so many pages at once before having to put it down. I underlined a fair bit, good quotes such as, 'Love was gradually dimmed by absence, regrets were smothered by habit', and countless longer descriptions of setting, which Flaubert does quite a lot; they are beautiful but sometimes get in the way of the plot. But can you really complain about paragraphs like this?:
n  

In the summer heat, more of the bank was above water, exposing the garden walls to their base, with their little flights of steps going down to the river. It was flowing silently, swift and cold to the eye: tall clustering grasses arched over it, bending to the current, and, like cast-off green hair, uncoiled their fronds in the limpid depths. Now and then, on the tips of the reeds or the leaves of the water lilies, some slender-legged insect crawled or came to rest. Sunbeams pierced the tiny blue bubbles in the waves as they rippled and died away; the old lopped willows gazed in the water at their grey bark; out beyond, all around, the meadows looked empty.

n
So paragraphs like that almost beg for a higher rating and they deserve it. But I couldn't help but feel the elegant prose was stifled a little by everything mentioned above. Emma is a selfish and sometimes irritating character but she had my respect at the same time (or rather Flaubert did) when she thought things like, 'She wanted to do battle with men, spit in their faces, crush them all'. And yet despite this I found the novel lacking in some sort of depth. It reminded me ever so slightly of Middlemarch, though Eliot's novel is as well written if not better and brimming with philosophical depth and emotion. The more I read around the 19thC the more I realise how utterly brilliant Middlemarch was and how it is perhaps deserving of the 5-stars I failed to give it.

Madame Bovary is a tragedy. It tells the story of Emma Bovary who lived a tumultuous life between real and imagined, and whose end arouses more pity than scorn. Emma is a complex character. She is vain for sure, silly in certain ways, and bold and impetuous in some of her conduct. Her idea of love is misguided. "Love, she believed, should come upon you suddenly, with thunderclaps and blinding flashes of lightning, bursting like a hurricane out of the skies and into your life, turning everything upside down, sweeping your will along like a leaf in the gale, and carrying with it into the void the whole of your heart." She marries Dr. Charles Bovary under a misconception. "Before her marriage, she had believed that she was in love; but since the happiness she had expected this love to bring her had not come, she supposed she must have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what exactly was meant, in real life, by the words ‘bliss’, ‘passion’, and ‘ecstasy’, words that she had found so beautiful in books.". Emma has no proper idea of what love and marriage are all about. Her convent education didn't prepare her for human life and human relationships. She learned all that through fiction, a dangerous method of instruction if you don't resort to the proper kind. Emma had no mother to impart any maternal wisdom on these important subjects of a woman's life. So, one cannot blame Emma for being who she was, having raised herself on her own misguided beliefs.

This second reading made me properly understand the character of Emma Bovary. She is not the wicked villain as society would think of her for being an adulteress, and she is not the conceited spendthrift as the picture paints. Yes, she is guilty on the two counts on the face of it. But if one looks beyond the surface, a question arises whether she is the culprit or the victim. To me (and also to Flaubert, I believe) Emma was a victim, a victim of temptation. This poor misguided woman, who could be easily persuaded, who was craving for passionate love and luxury, was trapped in the hands of three men, two lovers, and one cunning tradesman. And they, without pity or remorse, led her down the hill to her destruction. I'm not justifying Emma's conduct as a woman. But given her ill-formed and misguided personality, and in the absence of any strong person in her life to guide her otherwise, she couldn't have done differently. And here is where her husband comes. Her husband should have seen this calamity beforehand. If he had been a smart, intelligent, and strong fellow, Emma wouldn't have been able to perform such deception. If Charles Bovary had been that man, perhaps, Emma may have mended her waywardness. But Charles was not what Emma expected in a man. He was weak and was neither intelligent nor remarkable in any way. "Charles’s conversation was as flat as any pavement, and everybody’s ideas plodded along it, garbed in pedestrian style, inspiring no emotion, no laughter, no reverie." Emma couldn't look up to him because he "taught nothing, knew nothing, (and) desired nothing". Emma and Charles were of two diverse temperaments. Their personalities were poles apart; she was lively, he passive. What Emma expected in a husband, Charles couldn't be. And she resented him for it. "What enraged her was that Charles seemed quite unaware of her anguish. His conviction that he was making her happy seemed to her a mindless insult, and his complacent security, ingratitude. So for whose sake, then, did she remain chaste? Was not he himself, in fact, the obstacle to all felicity, the cause of all misery..."But how could have Charles Bovary been other than who he was, he also being a victim of a poor upbringing? I truly pitied them both.

Although it is easy to lay the blame elsewhere when one feels sorry for someone, I felt justified in laying the blame for the tragedy of both Emma and Charles on the heads of Rodolphe, Leon, and Lheureux. They destroyed not only Emma but a whole family. Little Berthe lost both her parents at quick intervals leaving her destitute and orphaned. The fact that she, still a child, had to earn her living by working at a cotton mill broke my heart. If Rodolphe and Leon hadn't been so base as to seduce an unhappy woman, and if Lheureux hadn't been so vile as to reap financial benefit from a poor, vain woman, the story of Emma would have written quite differently. But they are ever-present, even today. I have met in my profession odious men like them who take selfish advantages from women in distress. Flaubert describes how Rodolph and Leon took the news of Emma's death. "Rodolphe, who, to take his mind off things, had spent the day in the woods with his gun, lay peacefully asleep in his chateau; down in Rouen Léon, too, slept."

Flaubert had written the story of Emma so beautifully. It's both sensitive and sympathetic to its main characters, Emma and Charles. Vladimir Nabokov wrote "Stylistically it is prose doing what poetry is supposed to do" and Henry James wrote, "It has a perfection that not only stamps it, but that makes it stand almost alone." What more authority does one need to emphasize on Flaubert's artistic cleverness.

4.5 Stars ⭐️

Mel

مادام بوواری پرآوازه ترین کتاب فلوبر هست که البته شاید بیشتر به محتوای آن بویژه در زمان انتشار ارتباط باشد .محتوایی که تازه در سالهای نیمه ی قرن نوزدهم مد شده بود و یک موضوع همچون خیانت زن به شوهر و در مجموع فیزیولوژی و روان شناسی زن و زناشویی ، تازه وارد ادبیات می شد . پیشگام این جریان را می توان بالزاک دانست. کسی که با نوشتن رمان هایی همچون زنبق دره ، زن سی ساله و فیزیولوژی زناشویی ، با بی پردگی رئال ویژه خود ، فرانسویان را از خواب رمانتیس بیدار کرد . البته هرگز این سبک در زمان خویش مورد استقبال چندانی قرار نگرفت و تنها چهره این زمان ، همان بالزاک بود . اما در ادامه یک فرد آمد که تمامی جریانهای ادبی پس از او به نوعی وامدار او و رمان های اصلی او یعنی تربیت احساسات و مادام بوواری قرار گرفتند .
نگارش رمان ماد‌ام بوواری از سپتامبر 1851 تا اپریل 1856 طول کشید‌. فلوبر د‌ر طول این 5 سال تقریبن از خانه خود، کرواسه، خارج نشد‌. هر روز پشتِ میز کار می‌نشست و جز چند‌ خط نمی‌نوشت، اما مرتب آن‌ها را تغییر می‌د‌اد‌ و د‌وباره می‌نوشت وسخت کار می‌کرد‌. جالب اینجا هست که پس از مد‌تی کار، فلوبر شیفته‌ اثر خود شد‌ و با پرسوناژهای د‌استان خود همد‌لی غریبی احساس کرد‌ تا انجا که گفت:"ماد‌ام بوواری خود‌ من هستم."
و بعد‌ها به "ماکسیم د‌وشان" از نزد‌یک‌ترین د‌وستان او می‌گوید‌:‌ "زمانی که د‌اشتم صحنه‌ زهرخورد‌ن اِما بوواری را نوشته می کردم مزه‌ آرسنیک را د‌ر د‌هان خود احساس می‌کرد‌م!"
راز حیات شگفت‌انگیز این رمان و تمامی نوشته‌های فلوبر به تعبیر "موریس بلانشو"، نویسند‌ه و فیلسوف معاصر فرانسوی، د‌ر د‌و نکته هست: اول واقع‌گرایی و رئالیسم د‌ر حادثه ها و د‌وم رنج ها د‌ر نگارش. فلوبر هر پاراگرافِ د‌استان‌های خود را بارها و بارها از نو نوشته می کرده هست و وسواس او د‌ر نگارش ما را به یاد‌ جمله‌" ویلیام فاکنر" می‌اند‌ازد‌ که می‌گفت: "کار اد‌بی عرق‌ریزان روح هست."

چاپ اول رمان ماد‌ام بوواری د‌ر فرانسه جنجالی سخت بر پا کرد‌. باز هم مناد‌یان اخلاقِ عمومی جامعه سخت برآشفته شدند که که فلوبر قصد‌ ترویج اروتیسم را د‌اشته و می‌خواهد‌ مبانی اخلاق کاتولیکی فرانسه را سست کند‌.
د‌ر 24 ژانویه 1875 فلوبر به اتهام توهین به اخلاق و مقد‌سات مذهبی به د‌اد‌گاه احضار شد‌. پس از آن فلوبر که سخت افسرد‌ه و د‌لزد‌ه شد‌ه بود‌ برای مد‌تی از جریان‌های اد‌بی فرانسه کنار کشید‌ تا اینکه با رمان بزرگ و فاخرِ سالامبو پاسخ تمام منتقد‌های خود‌ همچون ژرژ ساند‌ را د‌اد‌. ژرژ ساند‌ که از نویسند‌گان بزرگ و هم‌د‌وره‌ فلوبر است تلخی رمان ماد‌ام بوواری را برنمی‌تابید‌ و نقد‌های بسیار تند‌ی برد‌ کتاب فلوبر نوشت. د‌ر حقیقت ارزش رمان ماد‌ام بوواری‌ و د‌یگر آثار فلوبر نه د‌ر قرن نوزد‌هم بلکه د‌ر قرن بیستم شناخته شد‌.
د‌ر د‌وران معاصر، نویسند‌گان پست‌مد‌رنی چون ژان بود‌ریار، میشل فوکو و ژیل د‌لوز از ماد‌ام بوواری به‌عنوان شاهکار بی‌بد‌یل و کتابی که د‌ر تحول رمان‌نویسی فرانسه نقش مهمی د‌اشته
یاد‌ کرد‌ه‌ هستند‌.
"ماریو بارگاس یوسا" در "عیش مدام" ، درباره‌ تاثیر بی‌اندازه‌ "اما بوواری" در زندگی‌ خود می‌گوید: "شماری اندک از شخصیت‌های داستانی تاثیری چنان ژرف بر زندگی من نهاده‌اند که بسیاری از آدم‌های واقعی که می‌شناختم قادر به آن نبوده‌اند." یوسا همچنین در این کتاب درباره‌ تاثیر مادام بوواری می‌گوید: "اغلب درباره‌ی «مادام بوواری» تکرار می‌کنند که این رمان به یک ضربت خود را از رومانیستم جدا کرد و اغازگر جنبش رئالیسم شد. اگر بگوییم این رمان به جای انکار رمانتیسم، آن را به کمال رساند، به حقیقت نزدیک‌تر است."

In Which a Dreamy Scheming Seamstress Chickababe Gets Entangled With Various Members of the Professions, the Merchant Class, Money Lenders, the Landed Gentry and the Aristocracy in a Quest for a Life She Does Not Have

The setting of “Madame Bovary” is one of Realism. Real life goes on around Emma. People work. They provide services. They buy and sell commodities. They borrow and lend money. They repay debts or collect unpaid debts. They get married. They have children and educate them. Their children move away and start families of their own.

n  This is the way of all flesh.n Yet, for all of the Realism, the novel is really (or also) about something else. It’s about the desire for love and happiness, the jewels in this setting.

Emma is rebellious, irreverent, impatient, difficult, disillusioned, capricious. She craves bliss, passion, intoxication, feverish abandon, voluptuous pleasure, joyful effervescence, and succumbs to “the ecstatic transports of adultery”. She wants to be n  “the beloved of every novel, the heroine of every drama, the ‘she’ of every poem.”n She has a “vain longing for a more sublime pleasure.” She aspires to art and beauty in the face of life’s science.

Determined not to be a work of Romanticism, Flaubert’s novel dismantles the effect of Romanticism on real people, well, at least one real person, Emma. n  However, just as Flaubert was trying to avoid an excess of Romanticism, he was protesting against an excess of Realism.n

Romanticism could prove fatal, but the Realism of contemporary bourgeois capitalist society had proven to be boring, in effect, a premature death.

Emma confronted the harshness of modern life by clinging to the Romanticism that she believed would help her survive Reality. She clung to the world promoted by Romance Fiction. This Fiction created a fantasy world that she aspired to.

At the time, Flaubert and his friends saw it as outmoded. Who could have guessed that it would become not just a mainstream element of capitalist society, but one that sustains, not challenges, its illusions about itself? In our contemporary real life, people could not and would not work, buy, sell, borrow, repay, etc (i.e., be consumers), unless they had these fantasies.

If within the fabric of “Madame Bovary” Romanticism and Realism confronted and opposed each other, then what eventually emerged in modern society was a synthesis that preserved both in a perpetual death grip. In both Fiction and Reality, they are its warp and weft.

n  Each needs the other to survive, even if the host, Emma, us, might die in the process.n

There’s a sense in which the novel doesn’t just anticipate Modernism, but it anticipates Post-Modernism or, at least, Meta-Fiction.

Emma’s world-view is taken over and subjugated by the expectations and conventions of Romantic Fiction. She allows it to govern the direction of her real life (within the novel).

This relationship with literature becomes part of the subject matter of the novel. It’s concerned with the influence of previous novels on one of its own characters. As a result, the novel positions itself against all of its predecessors. n  It adopts the stylings of Romantic Fiction, while simultaneously subverting it. n It draws a line in the sand, implicitly challenging the past to cross the line, and then turns to the future. What it sees is not necessarily positive.

Flaubert does not position himself as a God-like narrator whose characters are a vehicle for Time or Fate to progress society on its journey towards some happy ending. Flaubert uses “free indirect narration” to enable us to learn a little something about what is going on in everybody’s minds.

Earlier, he had written, “the artist in his work should be like God in the universe, present everywhere and visible nowhere.” Thus, while Flaubert composed and is present in his work of fiction, he is invisible, and the novel’s authority derives partly from the impression that it is simply documenting what the characters have brought upon themselves or, from a more political viewpoint, what society had done to them.

It's difficult to sympathise much with Emma as some sort of prototypical strong, passionate, sensitive, sensual woman. n  She is a victim of her own deluded sentimentalism and desire.n

Emma was wasted in and by her life. She was a “stupid girl” in the same way that Mick Jagger would explain his dissatisfaction in his song by that name, “I wasn't in a good relationship. Or I was in too many bad relationships.”

Emma wasn’t happy with her marital relationship, and in seeking something better, she fell into too many bad ones.

So, Emma is a warning to us. She died so that we might live, so that feminism might live, and so that women might love genuinely, passionately and realistically. n  She died so that neither woman nor man nor their relationships might be destroyed by their fantasies.nShe was a reality check designed to keep our reality in check.

To paraphrase Sartre (who was writing about Flaubert himself), I would like you to feel, understand, and know Emma’s character both as totally individual and totally representative of her (and perhaps our?) times. In so far as she is representative, she is also representative of men, who can equally be unrealistic.

It’s possible that this was what Flaubert had in mind when he remarked, n  “Madame Bovary, c’est moi!”n Perhaps, she is not just Flaubert, but all of us.

Of course, Realism without Romanticism can be a dry and humourless and mechanical affair. Perhaps, then, the moral of Flaubert’s tale is that Realism needs to be a bit more Romantic, and Romanticism needs to be a bit more Realistic?

Two thirds of the way through, Emma speculates that, if "before the defilement of marriage and the disillusionment of adultery, she could have set down her life upon some great, solid heart, then virtue, tenderness, desire and duty would all have been joined together, and she would never have descended from such lofty felicity...[but] she knew, now, how paltry were the passions exaggerated by art."

Still, even this vision depends on the existence of some "great, solid heart." And the realisation comes too late.

Earlier, Charles Bovary’s first wife had suggested that “a tonic for [my] health and a little more love” would be adequate. Not everybody will be content with this prescription.

It seems to counsel us to make do with what we've got, but it’s practical advice and not a bad start.

Either way, n  we need both fuel and a flame to light and maintain a fire.n



SOUNDTRACK:

Bettie Serveert - "Attagirl"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ge40nx...



VERSE:

Loveseat

On a bench seat
In the arbor,
They made love with
Carefree ardour.


A Box at the Opera
[In the Words of Flaubert]

Quite unable to refrain,
Emma watched from high above
A nice young dandy strutting
About the parterre, resting
The palm of his yellow glove
On the gold knob of his cane.


Rodolphe Boulanger Weighs Up Emma
[A Haiku in the Words of Flaubert]

She's gasping for love
Like a carp gasps for water
On a kitchen bench.


Young Leon

Leon’s long, fine eyelashes
Made him seem so handsome.
His bearing radiated
A candor so exquisite.
The smooth skin of his cheeks flushed
Light red with desire for her.
She longed to feel his kisses
And hoped that he might visit.


Edgar Lagardy

What audience
Could not be awed,
Watching the star,
Whom all adored,
Outraged lover,
The role he scored,
Jealous, angry,
Striding towards
His enemy
Across the boards,
While brandishing
His naked sword?


Emma Bovary’s Ode to Jay Gatsby
[A Meta-Fiction Dedicated to Gary]

I know it might seem crazy:
If only you’d been near,
You alone could have had me.
We’d be alive, my dear,
Instead of that bitch, Daisy.



An Hypothesis Concerning the Apothecary
[Inspired by a Sologknigian Thread]



Any apothecary
Who’s worth his salt and petre
Would be able to divine
What it was that Homais made,
Helped by his rock-hard pestle,
Inside his petit mortar.

Lest his balm did not suffice
To cure hysteria,
He studied “Conjugal Love”,
The skilled work of a surgeon,
Procuring paroxysms
Via digital techniques.

Without a doctor’s permit,
The magistrate determined
His practised consultation
In the back room of his store
Not to be innocuous,
Hence he came to be struck off.

His treatment, now you know why,
It worked a charm for Emma,
Creating an appetite
For stimulus that no one
Husband, aided by Homais,
Could aspire to satisfy.

Well, this newfound craving,
It was to be her downfall.
It’s sad, because she would still
Be alive today, if she
Had had the wherewithal,
To tell Homais to fuck off.

È, a mio modesto parere, il romanzo del disincanto e della disillusione, che, attraverso l'amore mal riposto, idealizzato, quasi platonico, finisce per dare un'immagine della vita un pochino desolante, seppur, in parte, veritiera. Ognuno dei personaggi - comprimari inclusi - sembra vivere nel proprio beato mondo d'illusioni e realizzazione, di sogni e aspettative, di prospettive e felicità costantemente inseguita e nemmeno dinanzi alla cruda realtà sembra voler accettare l'idea di un mondo assai diverso. Forse si tratta solo di cecità. Forse di un desiderio che gijnge pedsino a dissolvere il disincanto. Forse dell'unica cosa che consente a ciascuno di affrontare la fredda brutalità dell'esistenza. Da leggere assolutamente.