obscure. an interesting historical perspective for a generation growing up in a globalized world.

On two occasions, the editor inserts some of Flaubert's writings on Egypt done before his trip. They are absurd, 19th cent French romanticism that almost make Victor Hugo seem restrained. In his actual travel notes, Flaubert becomes a realist, selecting visual details, providing rapid character sketches, and inserting, as the subtitle says, his sensibility into what he experiences.

Francis Steegmuller (translator and editor), probably doesn't take enough credit for this book - and Flaubert probably too much.
In 1949/50 Gustave Flaubert (at the time 27) and Maxime Du Camp (a little younger, I think) made their grand tour of Egypt, before heading on to Beirut, Palestine, Syria, Turkey, Greece and Italy. Flaubert kept a diary, which he embelished a number of years later, filling on some detail. He also writes letters, mostly to his mother, but also to a friend, Louis Bouilhet. From these, and from Du Camp's book 'Le Nil, Egypte et Nubie' and his 'Notes de voyage', Steegmuller pulls together a narrative and a commentary for this trip.

Flaubert is a strange fellow. At times despondent, offering few words per day, other times expounding about a place or a person. In his diary, and in letters to his friend, he is (hilariously) crass and talks of his times with the many prostitutes he engages, even a baths attendant boy
(when in Rome...). I found it a very entertaining read. It offers a number of factors of interest / amusement:

It has historical context. In 1849/50 many of the Egyptian sites were more readily accessible to tourists, but also more inaccessible as they had not be excavated properly - for example Abu Simbel, which during their visit, is under many metres of sand, buried up to the chin. Some of the descriptions were great for comparison to my travels there (about 1995).

Flaubert also offers a few pearls of wisdom - When one does something, one must do it wholly and well. Those bastard existences where you sell suet all day and write poetry at night are made for mediocre minds – like those horses that are equally good for saddle and carriage, the worst kind, that can neither jump a ditch nor pull a plow.

A thirdly, his ridiculous and hilarious writing: This is indeed a funny country. Yesterday, for example, we were in a cafe which is one of the best in Cairo, and there were, at the same time as ourselves, inside, a donkey shitting, and a gentleman who was pissing in a corner. No one finds that odd; no one says anything.

and ....A week ago I saw a monkey in the street jump on a donkey and try to jack him off - the donkey brayed and kicked, the monkey's owner shouted, the monkey itself squealed - apart from two or three children who laughed and me who found it very funny, no one paid any attention. When I described this to M. Belin, the secretary at the consulate, he told me of seeing an ostrich trying to violate a donkey. Max himself jacked off the other day in a deserted section among some ruins and said it was very good.
Enough lubricities.

Hilarious. Albeit still somewhat disjointed. Probably 3.5 stars, rounded up to 4.

Toujours et encore le même constat, la prose y est sublime, le contenu somme toute assez chiant.

The interesting observations on life in Egypt in the 19th century don't make up for the repeated accounts of Flaubert's encounters with local prostitutes (including a fifteen year old, who if I understood the French correctly was also a victim of FGM), and his colonial attitude when describing the native people. Perhaps that's why it was free on Audible.

bisexuals can be racist too!