"Tres cuentos" fue el último libro que publicó en su vida Gustave Flaubert, más allá de su extravagante proyecto aparecido póstumamente, y que se llamó “Bouvard y Pécuchet”.
Los tres cuentos vieron la luz en 1877, pero fueron escritos dos años antes.
La idea de Flaubert era darse un respiro y escribir algo más fresco que la complicación a la que estaba sometido con Bouvard y Pécuchet, y es por ello que decide publicarlos.
Están ambientados en épocas bien distintas, el primero durante algunos años atrás, durante sus días en el siglo XIX, el segundo es una historia medieval y el tercero en la época bíblica.
De los tres, personalmente me quedo con “Un corazón sencillo”, en primer lugar porque aún recuerdo estar leyéndolo en un banco de espera de la Facultad de Humanidades mientras estudiaba Licenciatura en Letras y segundo porque me encantan los cuentos y novelas más importantes de ese movimiento que se llamó Realismo.
Cabe aclarar que el Realismo de Flaubert difiere en ciertos aspectos del de Balzac, por ejemplo, quien basaba muchas de sus novelas en el status social, en el dinero y en el poder que éste genera (“Eugènie Grandet” y “La muchacha de los ojos de oro”). Tal vez Stendhal con su “Rojo y negro” también se equipare a Balzac.
En Flaubert, el Realismo se percibe especialmente en las costumbres de los personajes (casualmente, “Madame Bovary” tiene un subtítulo: “Costumbres de provincia”), en su modo de vida y en la manera tan detallada que tenía Flaubert de describir a las personas y los objetos.
Esa es la característica más sobresaliente: el exagerado detalle de todo lo que uno “ve” mientras lee.
Flaubert describe las personas, su cabellera, las manos, la ropa, los vestidos, los zapatos, los animales, el interior de las casas, las partes del mobiliario, los adornos, los ambientes, los bosques, las calles, las plazas, los edificios, todo, absolutamente todo.
Y por último, si algo tiene bien marcado el Realismo es que a diferencia del Romanticismo, todo lo que se narra tiene un principio, un medio y un final y se cuenta con una precisión cronológica sin falencias, además de dar fechas exactas, certeras. Ejemplo: "Un lunes, el 14 de julio de 1819…" (página 29). Esto hace que el lector esté exactamente ubicado en espacio tiempo durante la lectura del texto.
Respecto de “Tres cuentos”, si bien las épocas son distintas, en todos los casos, hay un tema afín a ellos y que todos comparten: el de la muerte.
En los tres, Flaubert trabajan la cuestión de la muerte que aplica a uno de sus personajes y no es un dato menor. Creo que es donde quiere inferir el significado de lo que narra.
“Un corazón sencillo” es realmente un cuento perfecto. Me encanta la descripción que hace de su personaje principal, Felicitas, cuyo nombre contrasta con todas las penurias y miserias que tiene que vivir. Fiel, leal, trabajadora abnegada, Felicitas es exactamente contraria a la quijotesca Madame Bovary y forma parte del mundo que mejor sabe describir Flaubert: el de la burguesía.
Sinceramente, sostengo que es un cuento impecable, no tiene fallas. No hay nada en él que no dudas acerca de su perfección narrativa.
En “La leyenda de San Julián, el Hospitalario”, el autor desarrolla toda una historia medieval con connotaciones de parábola y con un final que nos aporta un mensaje edificante acerca de Julián, que es una mezcla de caballero andante y santo. Le encuentro a este cuento conexiones con algunas de las “Vidas imaginarias” que nos narra Marcel Schwob.
La vida de Julián traza un curso exacto que muta de la crueldad a la redención y el cuento se cierra correctamente, sin fisuras.
El último de los cuentos, “Herodías”, es el que menos me atrajo. Más allá de los personajes de Herodes Antipas, Agripa y de Ioakannan, me recordaron mucho a “Salomé”, esa obra en un solo acto escrita por Oscar Wilde sobre la muerte de San Juan Bautista, pero en líneas generales, no desentona con las restantes historias narradas por Flaubert.
En resumidas cuentas, “Tres cuentos” es un libro brillantemente narrado, que se lee fácil y rápidamente y que está escrito por ese inolvidable autor francés que se llamó Gustave Flaubert.

It had been some years since I'd read Flaubert. Which, in retrospect seems odd to me as I really remember loving the two novels of his that I'd read in the past--Madame Bovary in college (which supplies an epigram for my first collection of stories, Poison and Antidote) and, as background for my Ph.D. dissertation on literary otherworldly journeys, The Temptation of St, Anthony, a little more than a decade ago. So, why do I tarry to read the remainder of the master's works? Why do I not turn to a tome penned by good old Gustave more frequently? Dunno, probably has something to do with marketing.

At any rate, I picked up this thin Penguin paperback that's been languishing on my shelves for probably 30+ years and read it along with the copy of Julian Barnes's Flaubert's Parot that I picked up for a buck in a thrift store this summer as I deemed it propitious to read them concurrently. Indeed it was, for, without having read the tale "A Simple Heart" I'm sure Barnes's rambling novel of Flaubertian criticism, literary fetishization, and a seasoning of personal heartbreak would have meant a bit less without the first-hand background, even if that novel is more or less self-contained.

But, surprise! Flaubert's tales are quite a bit better than Barnes's po-mo encounter with them and the ephemera his novel's narrator picks through in avoidance of telling us his own story. The theme I found linking these three disparate tales was Christian service. That is to say they seemed to hit that heart of Christian belief, that most Christ-like of all attributes, that most self-professed Christians wholly lack, the ability to give something of themselves to others without hope of reward and without coercion. Believing in the dignity and/or worthiness of other human beings and serving them is a whole lot more difficult than believing in an absent deity upon which you can project all of your own manias. For human beings are distinctly unworthy most of the time vis-a-vis our moralist tendencies to harp on others' flaws while ignoring our own. Human beings are selfish, contradictory, and cowed by conformity to societal norms and particular situations. Plus our modern capitalism is diametrically opposed to this aspect of an early stage of Western Christianity; capitalism tears us apart as people through competition and materialism, encouraging hostility and suspicion of others rather than togetherness and mutual service. (If you're looking for a reason for all these mass shootings, look no further than the effects of the profit motive and the jealousy created by wealth inequality--oh, yeah, and all the guns lying around just waiting to be used.) It's not strange then that the panorama of service presented in the three stories--a woman born to serve who does so without complaint, a Christian saint who dooms himself to service in order to make up for a grievous, oedipal-like sin, and lastly, the story of Herodias and John the Baptist's followers, who all appear hapless servants of the forces of fate.

It's a bit odd to me how much I enjoyed these Christian tales even though I'm a confirmed atheist. I felt about them exactly the opposite way I felt about Bulgakov's Biblical revision scenes in The Master and Margarita, which I also read recently. I guess because Bulgakov was trying to bring a new reality to the obviously fairy-tale versions of events in the Bible itself, to legitimize and modernize the stories for contemporary literary taste--a ridiculous enterprise, despite the great talent of the writer--I received Flaubert's story, revised saint's life, and Biblical re-telling, as a kind of slap in the face of the modern hypocritical post-capitalist Christian reader. That is to say, Flaubert's three tales throw an abandoned aspect of Christianity in the face of modern Christians who have, for the most part, left service and obsequiousness behind long ago in favor of power, the proud exploitation and manipulation of their fellow man, slavery, coercive moralism, aggressive self-suppression through law and policing and militarism, racism, self-hatred, divisionism and world domination--much of our contemporary nastiness might be said to spring from our culture's abandoning of voluntary, mutual service for the construction of hierarchies of power that force us to serve (and therefore despise servitude) through various forms of violent and coercive domination.

After not finishing any books that I started for, like, 6 months in a row, I am back! (Although, this was a re-read, so I still need to finish a NEW book).

To be sure, Flaubert's efficient and understated style helped me along. His sentences go down easy, and his plots move along quickly, so it's hard to lose interest.

As for the content of the book, "A simple heart" and "The legend of St. Julian Hospitator" are clearly the strongest stories in the trilogy. Both stories are incredibly rich in material for reflection. While the former examines the simple joys of life, the latter reveals to the beauty of life in its highest highs and lowest lows. And each tale is a wonderful demonstration of how we cope with mystery, death, and the passage of time through storytelling and the creation of narratives.

"Herodias" feels like the Bible x Game of Thrones, which isn't necessarily bad, but you need to be into that sort of thing. I'm coming around to it.

Some easy, not overly ambitious stories here. It's strange to be presented with linear narratives, we are so influenced by modernism and post-modernism. He writes well, and there are some nice moments, but it's not worth rushing out to get this in my opinion.

Side note - The first story is noteworthy as it contains "Flaubert's Parrot" of Julian Barnes fame.

Thích 2 truyện đầu, truyện cuối có lẽ tới lúc nào đó t sẽ đọc lại để có thể hiểu hơn ý tứ của tác giả.

Non è da questa breve opera che si può giudicare il genio letterario di Flaubert ma il primo racconto, "Un Cuore Semplice" è una perla: la banale ma adamantina vita di Felicita, serva di una famiglia della borghesia rurale francese, viene raccontata con una semplicità che riscalda il cuore e commuove; meno coinvolgenti la leggenda "gotica" di San Giuliano Ospitaliere con un protagonista predestinato a una vita dapprima macchiata dal parricidio e poi riscattata dalla santità e infine il conclusivo "Erodiade" che racconta l'ultimo giorno di vita di San Giovanni Battista nelle carceri di Erode Antipa.

Alors le Lépreux l'étreignit; et ses yeux tout à coup prirent une clarté d'étoiles; ses cheveux s'allongèrent comme les rais du soleil; le souffle de ses narines avait la douceur des roses; un nuage d'encens s'éleva du foyer, les flots chantaient. Cependant une abondance de délices, une joie surhumaine descendait comme inondation dans l'âme de Julien pâmé; et celui dont les bras le servaient toujours grandissait, grandissait, touchant de sa tête et de ses pieds les deux murs de la cabane. Le toit s'envola, le firmament se déployait; - et Julien monta vers les espaces bleus, face à face avec Notre-Seigneur Jésus, qui l'emportait dans le ciel.

Ne znam iz kog razloga sam zaobilazio Flobera i njegova dela – možda zbog predubeđenja da, iako je stvarao u post-romantičarskom periodu (koji mi nije baš drag zbog kitnjastoća, učmalih, beskonačnih, dosadnih, izveštačenih razgovora, tračarenja po balovima itd.) će me podsećati na romantičare i time me odbiti od čitanja. Do ove zbirke sam sasvim slučajno došao, čitajući Beatriče i Vergilija gde se, kao referenca, pojavljuje jedna priča odavde: „Legenda o svetom Julijanu Gostoprimcu“. Upravo ona mi se i najviše svidela. Inspirisan legendom o svetom Julijanu, Flober je napisao svoju verziju te legende, trudeći se da ne odstupa od izvornika. Pisana je u medievalističkom maniru, sa bezbrojnim scenama lova i opisima divljih šuma. Posebno interesantan detalj jeste scena koja me podsetila na slične iz Mabinogiona – u kojoj jelen, čiju je porodicu Julijan pobio u lovu, proklinje ubicu da će ista sudba zadesiti i njegove roditelje koji će od njegove ruke skončati. Pripovetka „Prostodušno srce“ je jedina smeštena u vremenu u kojem je pisac stvarao i opisuje tragičan život jedne siromašne žene (opet anti-junakinja) i njenu žalosnu sudbinu. Poslednja pripovetka „Irodijada“ je direktno inspirisana biblijskom legendom o Irodijadi (Salomi), preljubnici i milosnici Iroda Antipe, tetrarha koji je vladao Galilejom i koja je bila udata za njegovog brata. Flober je na svoj način opisao zarobljavanje i utamničenje Jovana Krstitelja i, nakon prekora izgovorenih naglas i upućenih Irodu i Irodijadi, njegovog smaknuća na Irodijadin zahtev, te prinošenja Jovanove glave njoj na pladanj. Floberov stil je vrlo jasan, skladan, neopterećen alegorijom i kitnjastim deskripcijama, tako da sam prijatno iznenađen ovim otkrićem, jer me je, i pored teške tematike koju je obrađivao, čitanje ovih pripovedaka poprilično razonodilo.

Truyện ổn.
Độ khó hiểu tăng dần đều và khả năng tiếp thu giảm dần đều, tới câu chuyện thứ 3 thì ù ù cạc cạc luôn ~.~

Η μικρή αυτή συλλογή τριών ιστοριών, αποτελεί την πρώτη μου επαφή με το έργο του Γκιστάβ Φλομπέρ. Μέσα στο 2019 έχω σκοπό να διαβάσω βιβλία μεγάλων συγγραφέων που έχω αδικαιολόγητα παραλείψει και υποθέτω ότι η μη ανάγνωση κάποιου βιβλίου του Φλομπέρ μέχρι σήμερα ήταν μια αρκετά μεγάλη παράληψη εκ μέρους μου. Λοιπόν, δηλώνω αρκετά ικανοποιημένος. Οι δυο πρώτες ιστορίες, με τους τίτλους "Μια απλοϊκή καρδιά" και "Το συναξάρι του Αγίου Ιουλιανού του Φιλόξενου", με συντάραξαν έως έναν βαθμό, μου φάνηκαν εξαιρετικά καλογραμμένες και έντονες, με φοβερές περιγραφές και κάποιες πολύ δυνατές εικόνες. Ρεαλιστικές, αλλά συνάμα συμβολικές, με έντονα στοιχεία πεσιμισμού, σίγουρα είναι ιστορίες που προσφέρουν πράγματα στον αναγνώστη και θίγουν ορισμένα ενδιαφέροντα ζητήματα. Η τρίτη ιστορία, όμως, με τον τίτλο "Ηρωδιάς", δυστυχώς μου φάνηκε αρκετά αδιάφορη, πέρασε και δεν ακούμπησε. Ένα ρεαλιστικά γραμμένο ιστορικό αφήγημα, χωρίς το πάθος και την ένταση των άλλων ιστοριών. Συμπέρασμα: Μια πολύ καλή πρώτη γνωριμία με το έργο ενός μεγάλου συγγραφέα. (7.5/10)

Trei povestiri de-ale lui Flaubert.
Prima cred ca a fost cea mai buna si cea mai consistenta.
A doua mi-a adus aminte de Laur al lui Vodolazkin.
A treia e istorie biblica romantata.

Flaubert is a rather cruel and beautiful writer who fascinates me. In these three stories you can find little morsels of his life's great preoccupations, which he developed further in his novels.

In Un Coeur Simple (a simple heart), his subject is a selfless and stupid peasant woman. For Flaubert it was a great intellectual and aesthetic challenge to shape something of enduring beauty from the rough material of the everyday and the banal. It was a challenge he was to pursue with obsessive tenacity in Madame Bovary. In this tale he succeeds so brilliantly that it is impossible not to love this woman with a simple heart whose dying vision is of a gigantic stuffed parrot.

The antique sensuality and savage violence of his novel Salammbô is distilled into the two other tales in this collection.

One of the things that fascinates me about Flaubert is his restraint. For such a wild hedonist, who takes obvious pleasure in depicting scenes of barbaric passion, how can he write such controlled sentences, such careful, elegant, perfect paragraphs?

In the midst of his passion, he is as remote and unfeeling as a statue in the desert. That's why I call him cruel. He can weep and feel sorry for his characters but there is a part of his nature that is forever detached, ironic, superior and disdainful.

He is a very great writer, though. Masterful.