I know Madame Bovary is hailed as one of the greatest works of French literature, but after plugging away at the first 200 pages of the book this summer, I had to give up. I can’t say the writing is bad—far from it. The story simply failed to pique my interest.
On the bright side, Flaubert’s descriptions of daily Norman life paint a vivid picture of what 19th-century existence entailed. Compared to today, not much was going on yet I found Flaubert’s depictions interesting to ponder, and his writing, in this regard, quite masterful.
The author’s ability to transport the reader to another time and place reminded me of passages from The Grand Meaulnes, by Alain Fournier. Fournier wrote his only novel roughly 60 years after the publication of Madame Bovary and as I read, I wondered if Fournier had been an admirer of Flaubert and had tried to imitate the great novelist’s writing style. Perhaps if I’d read Madame Bovary first, Flaubert’s prose would have felt fresher and I would have finished the book.
While the descriptive text was exceptional, I found the story of Emma Bovary’s unsatisfying love life less than gripping. It’s a given that historically, life for women has been horribly restrictive. So this aspect of the narrative was hardly revealing. Yes, it would have been difficult to be female in the 1800s, especially if you were married to a man you didn’t love. In this case, Emma’s husband Charles is kind and well-meaning, but he’s also a lackluster dolt who is significantly older than she is. Emma agrees to marry him because she naively assumes that the simple act of tying the knot will bring about a heated romance between them—a liaison patterned after those she has read about in melodramatic novels and women’s periodicals of the day.
I sympathized with her frustrations but there wasn’t much new for me to reflect upon. Some readers have characterized Emma’s behavior as selfish and self-centered, implying that Emma should have made more of her circumstances through action and service to others. I, on the other hand, found her disagreeable mood understandable. It’s hard to imagine being happy and dutiful when married to a partner you don’t love. By meticulously portraying the simplicity of life in a remote Norman village, Flaubert adds a layer of day-to-day dullness to Emma’s unfulfilling union. Special events are few and far between, and Emma has no close female friends with whom she might share her joys and grievances.
About a third of the way into the book Emma becomes a mother and I was surprised by her cold-hearted reaction to her daughter. Emma’s detached attitude didn’t align with the woman I’d assumed her to be. Here, I felt that Flaubert had failed to deliver a series of circumstances and explanations that would cause Emma to alienate the one living being who was poised to love her deeply and completely. Not that I think all mothers are devoted to their children. I just didn’t find anything in the text that showed me why Emma seemed to feel little warmth toward her only potential source of joy.
I might also have finished if I’d found the text easier to absorb. Reading in French, I regularly encountered unfamiliar words and phrases, many of which have fallen into disuse. One indicator of the book’s complexity is the fact that 20 different translators have taken a stab at producing an English version that captures its essence. I knew that Emma would eventually engage in a heated love affair and that at the end of the story she takes her own life. After a 3-week break from the book, I decided to give up, no longer motivated to labor over an impractical lexicon to accompany her on that downward path.
It’s possible that Madame Bovary‘s priniciple flaw is that it was written by a man. I give Flaubert plenty of credit for being relatively enlightened. He’s taking Emma’s side after all, making the point (perhaps inadvertently) that women’s lives could be terribly bitter. Madame Bovary is the story of someone whose dependence and ignorance shoehorned her into a life of ever-increasing hopelessness. Had it been written by a woman, one who could believably create a narrative in which Emma was able to lift herself out of her funk, I might also have stuck with it.
Sorry Flaubert, sorry Emma, I must move on. Thankfully I was born in the latter half of the 20th century and as a 21st-century sexagenarian, I have an abundance of options for living my best life. Finishing this renowned classic did not fall on that list.
Sorry it didn’t really work for you. I really enjoy Flaubert’s writing, and Emma’s personality is so bad that it’s fascinating, like some movies that are so bad that they are good!
But it’s a reread for me, so you said, maybe this makes a difference.
I think Lory’s intention is to pick a more uplifting book next Summer, lol
No worries! Madame Bovary has long been on my WTR list. I was glad to have others reading it at the same time. À la prochaine lecture.
Wonderful title. Interesting critique. If Emma was depressed, as she seemed to be, that could explain finding no pleasure in her child but the point about a male author is well taken. Sarah
Very true Sarah. Another author might have given me more insights into Emma’s poor behavior. Some of my favorite characters are those who make choices I would never make yet their creator, the author, has led me to understand (and even accept) the reasoning behind their nefarious actions. I think one of Flaubert’s underlying convictions was that the tawdry romance novels of the day led women to abandon their natural instincts in their quest to achieve a life of similar frivolity. For me, that’s a weak explanation of Emma’s discontent.
I read Madame Bovary about 40 years ago! And enjoyed the challenge of reading in French, but can’t say I remember many details. Some time later, I read “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, which details a woman’s life, limited by her physician husband after she suffers from postpartum depression. Both seem to deal with the doldrums that women face who are “privileged’ enough to not be burdened by work. I wonder if you would appreciate The Yellow Wallpaper more, or how you would compare them.
Interesting. I’ve not heard of that author or story. Thanks for pointing out the similarities.
An interesting and honest assessment. I guess it’s difficult for even a literary genius to write an interesting novel about what sound like dull and depressing characters. I notice you suggest that a woman writer “could believably create a narrative in which Emma was able to lift herself out of her funk” — indeed, it sounds like the flaw here is that Emma is too passive to be an effective protagonist. Things happen to her, but she doesn’t do anything, except for the extramarital affairs, which don’t help with her problems and which — perhaps inevitably in that time and place — end badly.
As you say, it’s a realistic depiction of the lives of many women at that time. But it’s difficult to make an engrossing story out of a hopeless situation.
As enlightened as France was, I don’t think French men in the 19th century understood women very well. However, part of my less than stellar review is undoubtedly rooted in my reduced knowledge of French and of great literature. Madame Bovary is supposedly one of the most influential novels in history. I’m sure there’s plenty to digest for people that study literature or even for native French speakers. I just don’t share the same neural network. 🙂
It’s a great book. I’ve read other reviews of yours & I’ll say this ~ you identify, or try to identify, too much with the characters in the novels you are reading. The novel isn’t about you.
I used to be like this, too. If I couldn’t identify with the characters in the novel or at least one of the characters, especially the main character, I didn’t like the novel. Luckily, I got over that. Learning to read critically & respond to the words on the page & not my emotional response to what I was reading was the key. I thank my education from the English Department at the State University of New York at Buffalo (BA, 2011).
I’ve said this many times & I’ve pissed off a great many people ~ but it’s not about your feelings or how you identify or you. Once you remove yourself out of the novel (or whatever it is), your experience becomes much richer & more rewarding.
Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts.
What an innovative idea: write a review of a classic that you found seriously wanting to the extent that you couldn’t bear to finish it! Seriously, the review was worth reading, and I respect your life’s choice.
Ha! Don’t know how innovative it is Annie. Some people might call it lazy.
I normally wouldn’t blog about a book I hadn’t finished but because Madame Bovary is such a massive classic, I thought I’d share my experience with it. Happy to hear you found it worthwhile. Bisous.
Hi Carol. I’m not surprised that you “dropped out”. Flaubert as a monument of French literature just shows some of today’s issues. The XIXth century is becoming more and more distant as time goes by. Culture, (non)role of women, and exceedingly long prose.
As an example, I had always balked at Dickens. Never caught the gist. I recently bought Great expectations. Couldn’t finish. The style is perfect, the language is fine, but three pages to describe a room, before any action starts?
People had more time then. To read. And authors tended to be paid by the line.
Now, I wonder, would I still be able to read “Les trois mousquetaires”? Don’t know. I did read the Comte de Monte-Cristo again a few years back. It was still very good…
Finally, I have found that I don’t have to finish a book any more. Too many books to read, too little time.
Hope your summer has been great.
A bientôt.
B.
Ha! I had to read Great Expectations in high school. I liked the teacher enough to force myself to read the entire book but it was arduous! Around the same age, however, I read The Three Musketeers and loved it. A couple years later, I read The Count of Monte Cristo. Also loved it. I re-read the Count to my kids 30 years later and worried that the language would be too difficult for them to digest but they loved it too. So, I don’t know. I think I might just prefer tales of swashbuckling and revenge to unrequited love stories. One day, I’d like to give Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities a go.
I’m with you as far as finishing is concerned. There are so many great books that I’ll never get to. I don’t feel a need to stick with books that don’t speak to me. Doesn’t mean the book is bad, just that I prefer to read something else.
I’ve had a summer that’s been a bit too busy. I’m hoping to settle into a slower pace bientôt. Et toi?
I can relate to some suffering. And indeed, “finishing” or not has nothing to do with the author. Just lack of time… I have just bought “Les hauts de Hurle-vent.” Wuthering heigts by Brontë. Curiosity. More because of a portrayal of the times.
Swashbuckling (de cape et d’épée) is good. Can’t beat it.
A bit too busy too. I do vote for slowing down.
Bises.
I like the translation of Wuthering Heights. I read that one on my own, not for school, and enjoyed it. Tried to get my daughters to read Jane Eyre, by a different Brontë sister, but they couldn’t handle the extreme power gap between the lead male and female characters. To each his own.
Different generations. Personally, I do enjoy “old” books, precisely because the power relationships are so different. In all levels and venues of society. As I grow older and the world is changing radically I find it very important to remember where we come from. I remember the 60’s vividly. And the massive changes that went on then. Yet many look back at the past with today’s eyes and grid. Memories are being lost by the truckload. And I don’t think we can imagine the future if we don’t know the past…