Yahu bu Flaubert beni daimi olarak sıkıyor. İkinci öykü biraz 'eh işte' kafası yaratırken diğerlerini yine zorla okudum.

A escrita de Flaubert, à primeira vista, parece mera listagem incessante de acontecimentos. Mas isso é um equívoco. Logo percebemos que, quase magicamente, os acontecimentos apresentados formam um ambiente povoado de sentimentos, valores, sensações, vida enfim. Como, de resto, acontece na realidade! Não se trata exatamente de um equívoco, portanto. É verdade, sim, que o estilo do autor é o da sucessão quase vertiginosa de acontecimentos e atos, colados com algumas pequenas descrições de lugares e personalidades. Mas é exatamente aí que reside o segredo. Flaubert imita o mundo, a vida, e ao fazê-lo nos fornece a fonte suprema do conhecimento humano. Não nos fornece as conclusões prontas, como o fazem outros autores, que analisam seus próprios personagens e nos dão como que mapas - completos ou incompletos - da personalidade destes. Com Flaubert, quem analisa somos nós, de forma subconsciente, natural, como fazemos na vida real ao conhecermos as pessoas.


Em “Um coração simples”, Flaubert pareceu-me retratar a criada Felicité com uma ternura tão grande, que é como se Deus estivesse narrando a vida de um filho seu, um de nós, e perdoando-lhe todos os pecados por causa de seu coração inocente e simples. Essa ternura, entretanto, não vem propriamente do que ele diz. Vem de nós, ou melhor, vem da realidade por meio de nós. Imagino que, para um leitor ímpio de Flaubert, a personagem parecerá uma espécie de idiota ou algo parecido; pois, se o que Flaubert insinua da personalidade de Felicité através dos atos narrados está, por assim dizer, por trás da história contada (ou seja, na realidade, como tensão e convívio entre os diversos elementos de uma personalidade humana complexa até mesmo em sua simplicidade), então o leitor precisa ter a capacidade de enxergar-lhe a beleza. Assim, se este for, no limite, um imbecil egocêntrico e arrogante, verá ali uma alma boba e desprezível. Por outro lado, quem for capaz de empatia e humildade enxergará a beleza e até, de certo modo, a grandiosidade da vida de Felicité, uma pessoa tão simples, tão simples, que chega a idolatrar um papagaio como se fosse o Espírito Santo, sem que isso nos desperte senão vontade de perdoar-lhe a blasfêmia.

Falta-me fôlego para falar especificamente dos outros dois contos. Digo apenas que o "São Julião" é forte, verossímil e absurdo ao mesmo tempo, com toda a tensão que há nisso tudo. E não desrespeita tanto assim a lenda original, como alguns críticos afirmam.

Τελικά μου αρέσουν περισσότερο τα διηγήματα του Φλομπέρ από τα πιο γνωστά του έργα. Μαζί με αυτά που έγραψε λίγο πριν πεθάνει, τα νεανικά του (εκδόσεις Gutenberg).

Zaman geçtiğinde aklınızda yer etmeyecek üç öyküye ev sahipliği yapıyor kitap. Betimlemeler ve Flaubert için okunur.

These three short stories are an interesting little set. I tend to rate the stories differently, as they vary in quality.

The first story, "A simple heart" is very good, with some lovely descriptions of rural France along with the character of Felicite. Loulou the parrot also makes his appearance.

"The legend of Saint Julian" is a story that is strange and haunting. It has overtones of the Arabian Nights in it's style and mystical elements.

"Herodias" was the weakest story. It concerns John the Baptist and his beheading. It was a little confusing to me in parts.

All these stories were worth reading, and I would rate this little volume 3.5 stars.

This collection of longish short stories is Gustave Flaubert's take on saints' lives. The stories go chronologically back in time from 19th century France, to the Middle Ages, to the New Testament. This may be surprising from an author who wrote about people with less than moral lives and who was well known for being critical of the Catholicism of his time. However, the three stories contained in this book are brilliant.

The first story, "Un coeur simple" (A Simple Heart), is about a saint who is in all ways an unknown, a nobody. Her name, Félicité, is ironic, as her life of domestic servitude proves anything but felicitous. Lacking in education, she overflows with affection for her difficult mistress, Mme Aubain, and the two children of the family, Paul and Virginie. (These last are the names of the main characters of Paul Et Virginie, a novel which Flaubert mocks in Madame Bovary.) As the children eventually drop out of her life and her world shrinks around her, the one joy of her dull existence is a parrot which she names Loulou. She loves it so much that it eventually takes on a rather intense religious significance.

The second story, "La légende de Saint Julien l'hospitalier" is a retelling of the life of a medieval saint. The child of doting parents, Julien very early on becomes addicted in a frighteningly sadistic way to the extermination of animals for sport, and becomes a great hunter. Having ignored a baleful warning issued by a miraculous stag, he commits a horrendous crime, and in penance renounces the world to become a hermit and a ferryman. Then a mysterious stranger comes to trouble him and the interaction between them is truly strange.

The third story, "Hérodias," is Flaubert's retelling of the beheading of St. John the Baptist. He goes over the biblical narrative but adds stunning visual descriptions, background details and minor characters to flesh it out.

What links these three tales is a fascination with small, sparkling details. An exotic aura surrounds the stories, even when the setting is as unromantic as the Normandy of Flaubert's time. There is a sense of fatality which directs the lives of the respective saints to their inevitable conclusion, a scene of apotheosis. In all three cases, this is an ambiguous and even erotic, but ultimately unforgettable moment.

Flaubert's tales are still influencing literature today. Loulou, the parrot of "A Simple Heart," was the inspiration for Julian Barnes' Flaubert's Parrot, a comic detective novel mixed with abundant reflections on Flaubert's life and works. "Saint Julien" is quoted extensively in Yann Martel's Beatrice and Virgil which has its own bizarre and sadistic plot twists. "Hérodias" is supposed to have influenced Salome by Oscar Wilde.

I wonder what "l'oncle Gustave," that irascible, inscrutable, lascivious, high-strung old curmudgeon, would think if he knew that his stories had fathered such progeny. Would he be surprised? Flattered? Amused? Maybe. But then again, maybe not.

m'hauria de fer vergonya lu poc que estic llegint, qui ho diria que faig filologia catalana perquè m'agrada llegir. tiktok m'està fonent el cervell, ara ja només hi queda un líquid radioactiu així de color verd fluorescent. no us puc fer ni una ressenya amb condicions, però us diré que un cor senzill me l'he llegit per la uni; els altres dos, per gaudi: sant julià l'hospitalari m'ha agradat força, però herodies no m'ha entusiasmat.
en fi, aquest 2025 em proposo ser una persona lectora i deixar de fer l'imbècil.
petons!

Mởi gặp lần đầu: dã sử công giáo.
Thể loại này tác giả mà tưởng tượng quá lố là thể nào cũng bị tẩy chay.
Thật là công bằng khi cả 3 truyện đều có độ dài ngang nhau, tức 1/3 quyển.
Hai truyện đầu không biết tích của thánh nào: Một tấm lòng chất phac, Jullien Hiếu khách. Truyện đầu mang phong thái cổ tích người tốt việc tốt, một người hết lòng tận tụy trong mọi việc trong cả đời. Truyện tiếp theo mang phong cách sử thi thần thoại, tác giả xây dựng hình tượng nhân vật chính như một anh hùng có xuất thân và khả năng khác thường, phải đấu tranh chống lại một lời nguyền.
Còn riêng truyện ba đọc đề là biết tác giả sẽ nói về sự kiện nào liền: "Herodias". Herodias là vợ của vua Herode, chính bà là người đã yêu cầu vua Herode lấy đầu của thánh Jean-Baptiste. Truyện này viết theo văn phong cổ, đề cập đến rất nhiều nhân vật có thật trong lịch sử và cách xưng hô cổ, đọc xong thấy hơi loạn :D.
Thánh Mark viết truyện này cực dễ hiểu, tóm tắt trong tầm 12 câu. Nếu bạn là người Công Giáo, mình khuyển khích đọc truyện "Herodias" này, vì thể nào khi đọc xong, bạn sẽ phải lấy sách Tân Ước tra lại :D!

Όταν οι κλασικοί τυχαίνουν τέτοιων μεταφράσεων νιώθεις λίγο σα να σε κάνουν παρέα για τσάι. Ούτε μια λέξη διεκπεραιωτική, ούτε μια λέξη στην τύχη. Πολλά μπράβο στην Τιτίκα Δημητρούλια για την αστραφτερή απόδοση και στους Αντίποδες για την έκδοση. Ο βαλσαμωμένος παπαγάλος του Φλωμπερ κάνει απ’ το πρωί κύκλους στο σπίτι ολοζώντανος.

Beautiful, vivid tales with a mythical feel - almost epic, which is an achievement given their brevity.

1. A Simple Heart (includes the parrot)
I've written a detailed review HERE.

2. Saint Julian the Hospitalier
Bad deeds can (should?) have bad consequences, but sacrifice makes redemption possible.

3. Hérodias
A retelling of John the Baptist, Salomé, and Herod.

This is a very simple story which is unlike the rest of Flaubert's work (I think) in its hard outlook, lack of satire and irony. George Sand goaded him into it, into writing something purely serious. It's about a servant with a rough life who acquires and loves a parrot. Nothing spectacular, not like the rest of Flaubert I think I've read. My friend Numidica recommended it and Julian Barnes's Flaubert's Parrot to me, letting me know this novella is a prerequisite for Barnes. For the parrot.

Reader, I have absolutely no gift for languages. Required to take Spanish and French for years in school, I know almost none of either; frankly I don't know how I ever passed, semester after semester. I'll never do a triathlon but I'm fine with that. I'm not fine with the language deficit but there's nothing I can do. Goodreads has highlighted it. I sigh as friends read works in the original language. I'm in awe of the author and the person I follow who are professional translators, and my many GR friends who are multilingual, some of whom speak better English than I do. If I could speak another language, I would choose French.

I'm half French, and the one person my grandmother picked out to be able to learn and speak it with her. She complained often about my inability (though as I write it occurs to me not once did she try to teach me). When my mother was in early grades her parents spent time in Paris specifically so she could attend school there. At home she heard French as one of three first languages, but my mother apparently left her French on the ship that brought them back to the U.S. Grand-mere's focus was always on me. I can see her disapproving crabby looks now.

French hurts most because Proust is my favorite author and Madame Bovary my favorite novel. I've read Proust in two translations: the original Moncrieff revised by Kilmartin and now all but the last volume of the new Penguin, with its separate translators for each edition. The last volume won't be published for a few more years.

This I think I know: Lydia Davis's translations are magnificent to read. Reading her translations of Madame Bovary and of Swann's Way I felt, from the beginning of each, change, I felt closer to the work, loved each more. Now I'm reading the first volume of Flaubert's letters and even when he's fourteen, writing letters to his best friend, it's the same voice, the same style and wit I read in Davis so whether I truly am or not, when I read the letters it seems like I'm curled up with Flaubert.

This I know I don't know: Am I truly reading Proust and Flaubert? Much as I love them in English, how am I to know what and how much I'm missing? Always when we read translations we're aware we're reading someone else's work. And I just finished a lovely French novel that seems beautifully organic.

A few nights ago scrolling I saw photos of a GR friend's copy of a hundredth anniversary edition of Proust's original marked-up manuscript. It was late, I was headed for bed but seeing those photos woke me up like a loud clap of thunder. I enlarged them, pored over them though I couldn't read them. That night I turned over in bed for a long time, possibly fifty pages' worth, thinking about this treasure -- his never-ending revisions, crossed out passages, deletions, additions -- that I will never know. I've seen his handwriting now but that's small consolation.

Which brings me back to A Simple Heart. I paid for this version with the pink cover, translated by Charlotte Mandell,
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...
after getting this one with the three novellas, translator not credited, for free. I thought because it cost money the other must be better. I've read Nabokov's lecture on Madame Bovary with its frequent complaints about the many mistranslated words and phrases, his marginalia, in one instance a list of insects about ten different translators identified differently and every one, he said, was wrong. But there's the Lydia Davis: I love it and he didn't live to pick that apart.

I had no plan to do what I did, I did it because this story isn't long and when I engage with a book I can be like a dog gnawing on a bone. At my desk, laid out side by side were my tablet with the pink version and my Paperwhite with the other. Reading them simultaneously confirmed my unease and reading-fear.

Flaubert was so fussy with his words. The sense of the story is the same in each edition. But I don't know which is closest to Flaubert. In the passages below, quotes from the pink version are in italics, from the other in plain text.

Her grief was uncontrollable.
?
The poor girl's sorrow was frightful.

Virginie fed the rabbits, hurried off to gather blueberries, and the quickness of her legs revealed her little embroidered knickers.
?
Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pick the wild flowers in the fields, and her flying legs would disclose her little embroidered pantalettes.

Old Mother Liébard, seeing her mistress, was lavish with demonstrations of joy. She served her a lunch that included sirloin, tripe, blood sausage, chicken fricassee, frothy cider, a tart of stewed fruit, and plums in brandy
?
Mother Liebard, when she caught sight of her mistress, was lavish with joyful demonstrations. She got up a lunch which comprised a leg of mutton, tripe, sausages, a chicken fricassee, sweet cider, a fruit tart and some preserved prunes

Finally she returned home, exhausted, her shoes in tatters, death in her soul; and, sitting in the middle of the bench, next to Madame, she was telling her about all her attempts, when a light weight fell on her shoulder: Loulou! What the devil had he been doing? Perhaps he had been strolling about in the neighborhood!
?
At last she came home, exhausted, with her slippers worn to shreds, and despair in her heart. She sat down on the bench near Madame and was telling of her search when presently a light weight dropped on her shoulder — Loulou! What the deuce had he been doing? Perhaps he had just taken a little walk around the town!

What the deuce indeed.

Recueil de 3 nouvelles [contes] de ce cher Flaubert [je me suis départi de ta correspondance avec la merveilleuse George Sand aujourd'hui, je veux vous avoir dans une édition plus jolie, pour rendre justice à la beauté de vos précieuses lettre]

La première nouvelle, un coeur simple, est merveilleuse, d'une tragédie démesurée, de souffrance, et d'amour. Un peu Madame Bovary inversée [il doit y avoir 500+ reviews de ce livre, je dois pas être le premier à avoir remarqué] en ce sens que Félicité est beaucoup plus morale qu'Emma, mais par conséquent un peu moins intéressante, bien que très attachante. Si je n'avais qu'à évaluer cette nouvelle, la note serait plus haute.

Les autres nouvelles sont inspirée d'une légende médiévale [un vitrail d'église semble-t-il] et l'autre d'une histoire romaine, je m'ennuyais, ce qui fait chuter cette note à 3.

Quel dommage Flaubert, il ne me reste qu'un seul roman de toi à lire, nous avons des hauts et des bas, mais je suis attristé de savoir que nous nous délaisserons prochainement, ayant déjà relu tes deux plus grandes oeuvres, la relecture qui est un art que je pratique très peu souvent ayant tant de livres à franchir, je ne me revois pas te consacrer beaucoup de temps dans les prochaines années.

Mais merci pour ton style qui parfois frôle et atteint la perfection, tes histoires sont inutiles, mais je ne peux m'empêcher d'enchaîner et d'être captiver par ta forme qui est au fond le vrai fond pour toi. Je t'aime beaucoup xoxo, Juju