***REGION 19: Europe I

If you have not read the information on the master thread regarding the intent of these regional threads, please do this first.

***19. Europe I: France, Monaco, Belgium, The Netherlands, Luxembourg

Le club des incorrigibles optimistes by Guenassia-Jm

Michel Marini, a twelve years old boy in Paris in 1959, became a regular visitor of the club of incorrigible optimists after he saw Sartre and Kessel playing chess in the cafe in which it was located. In the following years, Michel befriended the members of this club, immigrants from Eastern Europe who played chess and told stories of survival, friendships and love. His family life is also narrated in this novel, which shows how the Argelian war influenced the way of life of French people at the time. Michel’s high school friends, his brother and his brother’s friends and girlfriend are an important element in his life, although the influence of the members of the club of incorrigible optimists becomes more central to Michel’s life as he becomes older. This book, winner of the Goncourt prize, is bitter-sweet, deep and highly entertaining. It is an extraordinary novel.

A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cossé 2010, translation 2010, French

I liked a lot of this book, but in the end I was disappointed and I wish I liked it better. The idea of two people setting up a bookstore that only sells the best novels is wonderful, and the satire of French publishing (what I understood of it; I know I missed a lot of the jokes) is fun. But . . . the mystery plot that begins with attacks on the members of the bookstore's selection committee and the difficult romance of one of the founders and the characters of the founders didn't really come to life for me. The introduction of a mysterious first-person narrator part of the way through the book also seemed jarring to me, and when the narrator's identity is finally revealed (not a total surprise) the narrator's voice doesn't seem consistent with what else we know of the character. And at times the book seems a little didactic.

You might think from the above that I didn't like this book at all, but that's not true. I loved the parts about the bookstore and the authors and the readers and the novels the store stocks. That part was really a fable, and a novel of ideas and, to my mind, anyway, very French. The surrounding plots . . . I don't know. As I said at the beginning, I wanted to like this book more.

Just read Luxembourg and the Jenisch Connection by David Robinson. Touchstones do not seem to work on this book, sorry about that. I had high hopes for this book, at the time I bought it the only book I had been able to find that was set in Luxembourg. Unfortunately, it didn't exactly live up to expectations.

Jason Evans is on holiday in Luxembourg visiting his brother Shaun, when he witnesses a young, blond woman committing suicide. His need to know why she did it and a telephone number on a pink piece of paper get him involved in the case, which turns out to be so much more than a simple suicide.

At the same time, Detective Ernie Meyer is looking into the suicide as well. He made a mistake on a case years ago, effectively derailing his career. Neatly wrapping up this case could get his career back on track, but what starts out as a seemingly simple suicide turns into a case that crosses borders. The stakes turn out to be much higher than just saving his career.

Have you ever read a story that had so much potential, but could use a lot of editing? This is such a story. The writing was awful at times, with very stilted prose and a lot of telling instead of showing. David Robinson’s descriptions of the setting are great though, which is understandable as he lived in Luxembourg for a couple of years. What also annoyed me greatly was the random shifting between viewpoints. Often you were in the head of one character, then suddenly for a sentence or two in the head of another character. This was confusing and weird.

The plot was intriguing, with each clue providing more questions than answers and several things going on at the same time. As a reader you know more than each of the characters do, because you know the information Meyers found and the information Jason found, which overlaps sometimes, but they also hold separate pieces of the puzzle. I thought the two different viewpoints complimented each other. However, the switches between scenes with Meyer and Jason were frequent, even within relatively short chapters, which I didn’t like. It made for a choppy story, that sometimes felt more like a collection of scenes than a continuous story.

This feeling of choppiness was exacerbated by the fact that there were a lot of pointless scenes. An example of this is the fact that seemingly every time the scenes switched to Meyer, he began checking his e-mails. There was also a lot of realistic, but pointless conversation about weather and traffic that I could have done without.

All of this combined made for a lot of frustration during reading sometimes, but the plot was intriguing enough for me not to put the book down. The ending, where all threads came together, could have made up for a lot. The whole book you’re building towards something big, only to be let down in the end. There are at least three different plot threads that are left hanging, with only one minor one being dealt with at the end. The book ends with the words “and the story continues…”, but David Robinson has not written a sequel to this. So as a reader, I am highly dissatisfied with this book and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

Fortunately, I've found another book set in Luxembourg: The Elf of Luxembourg by Tom Weston. I'm going to try that one out now.

Piano by Jean Echenoz (France, read in 2010)

Piano is a quirky but humorous short novel about a renowned concert pianist, beset by alcoholism and stage fright, who dies suddenly at the height of his career. He finds himself in a purgatory that resembles a luxury hotel that is staffed by celebrities. He soon learns his fate, and he is sent to the "urban zone", a Sartrean representation of his former Parisian arrondissement, where he is forbidden to resume his former life or contact anyone he previously knew. The action drags in a couple of spots, but otherwise it was an entertaining and interesting read.

3 from FRANCE

The Last Day of the Condemned Man by Victor Hugo

Hugo’s polemic against the death penalty is crafted as more of an emotional reaction than a political rant (though that appears in the preface). At first the condemned man believes that “death is infinitely to be preferred” to a life of hard labor; however, as his diary continues, we journey through his thoughts as execution day looms. Most disturbing is the festival atmosphere surrounding executions. When a woman remarks on the higher interest level in seeing a death row inmate versus a chain gang, out narrator posits “it is less diffuse, a concentrated and more aromatic liqueur.” full review here

Ourika by Claire De Duras

Ourika is a Senegalese girl, rescued from slavery to be raised by a Parisian noblewoman, and coming to a sudden realization of her ‘otherness’. Set against the background of the French revolution, the twinned terrors plunge her into a deep depression. Regarded as one of the first internal portraits of African character in fiction, Ourika is both beautiful and melancholic. full review here

The Stranger by Albert Camus

So I’m going to go with a series of quotes and a few thoughts rather than a review, and y’all should go out and read it.

The narrator is extremely distant, though I would not say emotionless. At his mother’s wake: “Then he offered to bring me a cup of coffee with milk. I like milk in my coffee, so I said yes, and he came back a few minutes later with a tray. I drank the coffee.”

When his boss offers him a promotion to Paris: “Then he asked me if I wasn’t interested in a change of life. I said that people never change their lives, that in any case one life was as good as another and that I wasn’t dissatisfied with mine here at all.” full review here

Huis clos suivi de les mouches by Jean-Paul Sartre

I enjoyed both plays and they helped me begin to understand why Sartre is such an important person in 20th century literature. Huis clos (No Exit) is a one act play where three people are sent to a room and talk to each other as time passes. Les mouches (The Flies) is a retelling of the story of Orestes and Electra, children of Agamemnon. I especially enjoyed Sartre's interpretation of the relationship between man and the gods in Les mouches.

Madame Verona Comes Down the Hill by Dmitri Verhulst (2006, T.2010, Belgian)

A lovely short novel, told in beautiful language and with a folklorish feel, about the enduring love of Madame Verona, a pianist and legendary beauty, and her husband, Monsieur Potter, a composer. They live in a remote cottage in the woods high above a little village. As our narrator tells us the story—kind of a legend—of our couple, he also tells us some wonderful tales about the quirky village below, populated by people who seem to work and play hard - whether that be table football or making a cow an honorary mayor of the town.

The book requires attentiveness because of the language, but the rewards will be many. It reminded me a little of Aitmatov's Jamilia.

#107 - I read No Exit many, many years ago, both in French and, several years later, in English and loved it. As I remember it, the three were sent by (one assumes) the Devil to the room where they meet two other people. One of the themes seemed to be "better the Devil you know than . . . ." since, though each of them hated both the others in the room and all were told they were allowed to move about the house as the wished, none would leave that room in order to seek a possibly better group of companions.

#8 - I'm glad you enjoyed Madame Verona Comes Down the Hill, Lois. It 's a favourite of mine too and I hope more people will discover this little gem.
Btw, I noticed you weren't sure (elsewhere) if it was set in Belgium or the Netherlands. It's definitely set in the south of Belgium (the Netherlands do not have this kind of landscape).

FRANCE

Haute surveillance (Deathwatch) by Jean Genet

I took a break from some other reading projects this past Saturday morning to read this short little play about three men in a prison cell. Yeux-verts is going to be condemned to the guillotine for murdering a woman, and his cell mates, Maurice and Lefranc, are petty criminals who are about to be released. They admire Yeux-verts and the respect he has been conferred in the prison social system because of his crime and his impending punishment. This was only a brief introduction to Genet, but it gave me a taste of what I might hope to find in his other books. He's got quite an interesting story, and I will try to continue reading more of his books as the year goes on.

Currently reading Europe, and I started with a new thread. I've now read all countries in this thread and discussed the books here: http://www.librarything.com/topic/111762

Only my book about Luxembourg was a serious let-down, so I'm going to be reading another book for that.

I just finished with Monte Carlo by Stephen Sheppard, which is a great book if you're reading about Monaco.

Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow by Faïza Guène

Doria lives with her mother in the Paris banlieue. She's an angry teenager: angry at her father for leaving them to go back to Morocco and find himself a peasant wife to bear him a son; angry at the lazy racism she and her mother encounter daily; angry at the social workers for pretending they understand and care. Fortunately for the reader, Doria's anger comes out as cynical wisecracks, which had me laughing out loud. But there are signs that some of this is just teenage bravado, and beneath that is a young woman who cares not just about her mother but also about her own future.

This was a sassy, energetic read which I really enjoyed. It's not perfect - sometimes the intention of the author shows through a bit too much (this bit's uplifting, this bit shows that Doria is smarter than she pretends to be), but hey, this is a first novel and Faïza Guène was only 19 when it was published, so I think those flaws are fairly minor.

Recommended for: anyone looking for something smart and funny which also gives you a bit of insight into a different world.

A note on the translation: this is a US publication, which uses an edited version of the translation made for a UK audience. This comes through in some of the slang - Doria refers to where she lives as 'the projects'. It's also got a different title - in the UK it was published as Just Like Tomorrow, a different way of dealing with the punning title. (Kif-kif is Arabic for 'same old, same old'; kiffer is French slang meaning to be crazy about something.)

LUXEMBOURG

I finally found a good book set in Luxembourg in The Elf of Luxembourg by Tom Weston

The Elf of Luxembourg is the second book in a series about the sisters Alex and Jackie, but it can stand on its own without any problems. The only thing you might need to know is that the sisters have come into contact with the supernatural before, which explains their lack of surprise and instant belief in it later on in the story.

Actually, in this book there are two stories told. One if the story of Cucha, a Muiscan who gets pulled into the search for El Dorado by the Conquistadors and the English in the late sixteenth century. The other one is the story of Alex and Jackie, who are visiting their aunt and uncle in Luxembourg. But deep beneath the ancient city there lies a secret. The Vampires believe it is protected by the Elf. The Elf believes it is protected by a prophecy concerning Alex and Jackie. Whatever the truth is, the sisters get inevitable involved, and as you read the book, the connection between the two alternating stories becomes increasingly clear.

Tom Weston chose to write this book in the third-person omniscient narrative, which took a bit of getting used to. But it fit the story very well and the masterful way it was done complimented the mystery surrounding the truth of what was really going on.

Because the sisters are tourist in Luxembourg and therefore go sightseeing, you get a real feel of the country. The narrators comments on the history of Luxembourg and the information he gives on the places the sisters visit only add to this. It really felt like I was visiting Luxembourg myself.

But what I liked most about the The Elf of Luxembourg was the plot. Right from the start I was very emotionally invested in Cucha’s story. I really wanted him to have a happy ending. Jackie and Alex’s story didn’t draw me in as fast, but once the Elf got really involved I was sold. I was just as uncertain as the sisters on who to trust: the Elf or the Vampires. And the twist at the end was absolutely brilliant! I definitely recommend this book.

Monsieur Linh and His Child by Philippe Claudel (France)

Monsieur Linh, an elderly widower in a small war-torn southeast Asian village in an unnamed country, escapes with his infant granddaughter Sang diû and other refugees to a large and impersonal city somewhere in western Europe. He and his child are initially placed in a dormitory room with two other families from his country, who treat the older man with minimal respect and disdain, as Linh trusts no one to watch over or come close to Sang diû, his most precious possession. Lost and culturally isolated in his new home, he eventually ventures outside, where he meets Monsieur Bart, a portly man who has lived in the city for years and is equally lonely, having recently and suddenly lost his wife just before they were set to retire. Despite their language differences the two men become close friends, spending most of their days with each other, until Linh and Sang diû are suddenly relocated to another part of town.

Monsieur Linh and His Child, originally published in French in 2005 and released in English translation earlier this year, is a haunting and beautiful novella about friendship and love. Linh and Bart, despite their cultural differences, share a sense of isolation and loneliness that is both unique and universal. The ethereal narrative enhances the atmosphere of the story, and Claudel's light but firm touch made this a book that I could not put down once I started it. Highly recommended!

39. Fatale by Jean-Patrick Manchette France Originally published 1977; English translation 2011

I wouldn't have bought this book if it weren't an NYRB, and I wouldn't have finished it if it hadn't been only 91 pages, but even though it isn't really my kind of book, I'm glad I read it. A broad noir-ish satire, it tells the tale of Aimée (as she calls herself for much of the novella), a woman who has transformed herself from an abused wife into a proud, professional killer after discovering how easy it was to get away with murdering her husband. She takes her work seriously, training physically and mentally and learning multiple ways to kill. The novella focuses on her efforts to create a situation in which the leading citizens of the town are willing to pay for her services, leading to a violent and, in some respects, unbelievable conclusion (however, I don't think we're supposed to take the story literally, anyway). I enjoyed the way the author skewered the pretensions of many of the characters, and I mostly enjoyed the character of Aimée, as well as that of the slightly deranged Baron Jules, but the ending was a little too violent and chaotic for me.

FRANCE

Journal du voleur (The Thief's Journal) by Jean Genet

This book documents the author's young adulthood on the margins of society. Interspersed with his memories, the author constructs an alternate ethical system, finding sublime beauty in theft, betrayal and homosexuality. It was a fascinating book, both for the power of Genet's anecdotes of the streets, jails, bars and dark corners of pre-WWII Europe, and for his unique perspective on the world we live in.

FRANCE

Ubu Roi (Ubu the King) by Alfred Jarry

A bizarre play about a bizarre man, Père Ubu, a bellicose, absurd construction of Jarry's imagination who assasinates King Venceslas of Poland and takes over the government, slaughtering nobles and professionals and doing all kinds of crazy things. I enjoyed imagining the reactions this play generated in its premier in 1896. It was a fun read, and I'm looking forward to reading the further adventures of Père Ubu.

The Prospector by J.M.G. Le Clézio FRANCE Originally published 1985; English translation 1993

For the most part I found this book riveting and hauntingly beautiful, but at times I just wanted to shake the narrator and tell him to stop mooning around. The novel starts with the narrator, Alexis L'Etang, reflecting on his idyllic childhood, particularly in the year 1892 when he was 8, on the island of Mauritius. With his mother and sister, he reads and becomes engrossed in mythic tales; with his father he learns about the stars and the Unknown Corsair, who left clues to a treasure buried on a nearby island; with his childhood friend, Denis, from a family of freed slaves, he explores the amazingly beautiful natural wonders of the island and goes out on a boat for the first time. Of course, such a paradise cannot last, and Alexis spends the remainder of the book trying to recapture it, first by compulsively continuing his father's obsession with finding the treasure of the Unknown Corsair and then through his own obsession with Ouma, a beautiful and mysterious member of an isolated indigenous group. The spell is broken when Alexis serves in the first world war, a world utterly different from Mauritius in every respect, but of course he returns.

But the book is not really about this plot. It is really a paean to the natural world -- unspoiled landscapes, the stars, birds and plants, weather, and above all the sea -- and an exploration of how we search for meaning and purpose. Le Clézio is a wonderful writer who drew me in with his language and the images of this almost mythic tropical world; the section depicting the power of a hurricane is dramatic, and the many portraits of the sea and its power over humans are compelling. The book also examines, mostly subtly, the impact of colonialism and racism.

For most of the book, I was completely drawn in to Alexis's world and his quest (and I must agree with the other LT reviewer who said that the English title is not a good reflection of what Alexis is doing, that he is much more a searcher as in the French title than a prospector as in the English). But the World War I section, the ambiguous character of Ouma (who at times seems real and at times doesn't), and the novel's conclusion all left me puzzled as to how they fit with the rest of the book. In the end, the novel made me think, and that's good.

FRANCE

Mémoires d'Hadrien (Memoires of Hadrian) by Marguerite Yourcenar

As he lays dying, second century Roman emperor Hadrian writes a memoir, presenting his views on human existence and recounting the events of his life. Twenty-plus years in charge of the biggest show in town (the Roman Empire) has taught him a lot about the world, and he's a pretty wise old man. He's also always loved the arts, even writing some poems, and his writing is measured, thoughtful and often quite beautiful.

I read this as the second part of a doubleheader of books written from the perspective of political leaders, after reading Augusto Roa Bastos' Yo el supremo. I thought both authors did an admirable job of fictionally representing these historical figures. I also enjoyed the marked contrast between the two rulers' deathbed mindstates: Roa Bastos' José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia has basically been driven insane by 26 years in charge of Paraguay, whereas Hadrian is more or less at peace with the world and relatively satisfied with his accomplishments.

France: Alles waar ik spijt van heb (Quelques-uns des cent regrets) by Philippe Claudel - 4,5 stars

This is the 6th book I read by Philippe Claudel and every time I'm in awe of his beautiful prose. Reading his books is like slowly tasting, savouring a glass of exquisite wine. This book tells the story of a man who comes to back to the village he left 16 years ago, to bury his mother. Little by little, we get to know the mother, the village and the reasons why he left. Although this story is not as overwhelming as Brodeck's report or By a Slow River, it is breathtakingly introspective and charming. The way in which Claudel depicts ordinary people like the hotel-owner or the priest is sublime. I'm afraid this book may not be to everyone's taste, but if you like a taste of literary wine, this one is highly recommended.

Belgium: De bewaker by Peter Terrin - 3,5 stars

This novel by a Flemish novelist, written in 2009, tells the weird story of two guards (Michel and Harry), seen through the eyes of Michel. They watch over a luxurious appartment-building from the basement which is the only entry to the building. When alle the tenants but one and their personnel leave the building, the two guards are left on their own. As the story unfolds, we get dragged into the minds, fears and fantasies of the guards and share their habits and uncertainties. This book was nominated for the Libris Literatuurprijs in 2010, one of the most prestigious prizes for Dutch fiction and ended up on the shortlist. It reminded me of books written by Beckett, Kafka, Hrabal and other writers who are able to give expression to alienation, loneliness and fear. Not a very happy read, but quite impressive. I think this one's eligible for translation.

Belgium: De kunst van het wachten (The art of waiting) by David Nolens - 3,5 stars

A recent book by a Flemish author about a succesful copywriter who suddenly realizes he wants to change his life and befriends a hobo. Together, they roam to Denmark and other places where they meet and join other 4th-world-people. Fast-paced and introspective, this is a strange, highly literary book which focusses on a universal theme of feeling comfortable within your own world. Although I admire the high quality and writing-skills of the author, it's not really my kind of book as I'm not fond of this type of self-centered characters.

The Netherlands: Bonita Avenue by Peter Buwalda - 4,5 stars

This is an amazing debut-novel by a Dutch writer which immediately got on the prestigious shortlist of the "Libris Literatuurprijs". No wonder, because this is a spectacular book. it tells the story of the decline and fall of the charismatic Simon ("Siem") Sigerius and his family. I know this sounds pretty cliché, but the way in which Buwalda tells the story, interweaving three points of view, whirling back and forth through the past and the present in an amazing literary language is breath-taking. Furthermore, I think it takes a pretty good writer to be able to mix drama with humour the way he does, so if you know how to read Dutch or if ever you come across a translation (which is not yet available), it's highly recommended.

France: L'Horizon by Patrick Modiano - 3,5 stars

The first book I read by this French novelist is about a man who briefly knew a woman who was stalked and disappeard from his life. 40 years later, he wants to find her again. Although the novella leaves you with more questions than it gives answers, it is a beautifully written book. I'll certainly try to read more from this author.

France: Zonder mij (J'abandonne) by Philippe Claudel - 4 stars

Every book I read by Philippe Claudel so far, moves me. I love his gentle, rich language, his subtle tones, the sensitive way in wich he tells his story. This one is about a man who's lost after the death of his wife and since her death - apart from the beauty of his baby-daughter - can only see the negative and the ugly in the world. But then he meets someone who changes his views. As always, this is a very thoughtful, poetic novella which has to be read when you're in the right mood. Probably not to everyone's taste though.

The Netherlands: Bittere bloemen by Jeroen Brouwers - 3,5 stars

Jeroen Brouwers is one of the most important Dutch writers of the older generation. This book is supposed to be his final book (self-declared). And very appropriately it deals with the feelings of the 80plus-year old Jules Hammer, a former judge, politician and famous writer who, after having recovered from a stroke, is sent on a cruise to the mediterranean by his bossy daughter, much to his dislike. However, when he meets a former girl-student on the ship, his infatuation with her immediately rekindles. And although his health is weakening by the hour because of the circumstances on and off board (heat, noise, people, etc.), he's extremely happy to be around her. However, things do not work out as planned.
This outline might seem a bit flat but the book really isn't, not in the least because the story is seen through the eyes of the very grumpy, cynical, no-nonsense yet likeable main character who interweaves the present with fleeting memories from the past which gives the reader an insight into the life Hammer has lead. And then of course, there's the splendid writing-style of Jeroen Brouwers which is outstanding.
All in all, this is a rather flimsy story but in the hands of Brouwers, it's become a little gem and a very enjoyable read.

France: Het onderzoek (The Investigation) by Philippe Claudel - 3 stars

This is the most recent book by Philippe Claudel and by far one of the most creepy books he's written so far. I must admit, Claudel is not a very humorous author. His books are though-provoking and often a bit disturbing but never before has he written such an eerie book. The plot is quite simple: an man comes to a town to investigate the 20+ suicides that were committed by the employees of the company, but as soon as he sets foot in the town, he gets sucked away in a nightmare where he never accomplishes what he aims to. It is easy enough to understand that Claudel wants to point out the problems of modern society but in my opinion it is all a bit too weird, too much of a caricature. It felt a bit too structuralized, too manicured to my taste. So, as much as I hate to admit it and despite the strong message and the fluency of his style, this was the first book by Philippe Claudel I didn't really like (not saying "really didn't like")!
Btw, the plot for this book is said to be based on the striking number of suicides that were committed by employees of France Telecom that is said to be a consequence of the bad working-conditions of the company.

France (setting) - Switzerland (author): De verborgen geschiedenis van Courtillon (Johannistag) by Charles Lewinksy - 4,5 stars

This is a beautiful book but so dangerous to review it because part of the beauty lies in the way in which the story unravels. However, I'll try to convey a glimpse of what the book is about. If you've ever been to France and strayed off the highways and the Routes Nationales, you may have passed through those small villages where the young people have moved away and have left the place to the old, simple villagers who live their quiet lives, unaffected by modernity and where nothing seems to happen. Courtillon is such a village when a foreigner arrives and finds out that underneath the varnish lies a world of secrets from the past that have a huge impact on the present and where stories can be told and deliberately misinterpreted. This was a delightful book because of the great characters, beautiful language and a story that smoothly twisted and turned in every direction and always ended up differently than expected. Furthermore the interpretation of the book was so poignant, that every village needs its stories but that they aren't necessarily true.
This is the first book I read by this Swiss author and his other book is said to be even better (I'm not sure if that's even possible). Highly recommended.

France: Refrein van de honger (Ritournelle de la faim) by J.M.G. Le Clézio - 3,5 stars

This is a sensitive story of a young girl growing up in Paris before the Second World War. The story mainly focusses on her relationships with her father, a flamboyant man who loses his fortune and his daughter's inheritance, her mother who disapproves but is unable to really stand up to him, her great-uncle who adores his niece, her friend who wakes up her first feelings of love and the boy who is to become her husband. The decor is Paris before and during the war and the south of France where the events interfere with her life. Although I liked the writing-style and the way in which Le Clézio portrayed his characters, the story in itself was a bit too distant, too clinical to me despite the sensitivity and the importance of the feelings and events that took place. I have yet to figure out if this is the way Le Clézio writes or if it's specific for this one book. But I'm planning to read more by this author.

France: Een onbewaakt ogenblik (Un instant d'abandon) by Philippe Besson - 4 stars

A beautiful book, not so much because of the story but moreso because of the beautiful style and language and the insights it gives into the human psyche. This French author's writing is somewhat similar to Philippe Claudel's, one of my favourite authors these days.

France: Urania by J.M.G. Le Clézio - 3 stars

Despite Le Clézio's unquestionable writing-skills, this book did not work for me. The story is about a French geologist who travels to Mexico for his work and finds himself in between scientists he mostly dislikes and a commune he's attracted to, but not too much. In between there's the obligatory mistress and a mysterious prostitute who are more of a device to keep the story together than real characters. I thought the way he handled the theme felt a bit dated and the way in which he tells the story is a bit erratic. However, this may as well be one of those much applauded writers that I simply cannot appreciate as much as others do. I'll have to read another Le Clézio to find this out.

NETHERLANDS



54. The Twin by Gerbrand Bakker

Translated from the Dutch by David Colmer, The Twin is the story of a middle-aged man in limbo. Helmer spends his days tending to his invalid father and to his father’s dairy farm. His entire life is a direct consequence, he feels, of the death of his brother thirty years before. Forced at that time to leave university and take care of the farm, Helmer nurses a grudge against his father for favoring his brother, Henk, and a conflicting sense of guilt and anger toward his dead brother. The book begins with a change, Helmer moving his father upstairs, and this small change leads to another and another until Helmer is able to make the biggest change of all.

Although I appreciated the deft way in which the author, Gerbrand Bakker, depicts the quiet angst of an emotionally frustrated man, I was not drawn into the story the way I usually am with a well-written book. Perhaps I was unable to empathize adequately with Helmer, being younger, female, and more decisive. Or perhaps the quiet, slow moving book was simply not meshing with my reading mood. The result is that although I could appreciate the book, I couldn’t like it. I have no doubt, however, that others will find it compelling.

Adding to Monica's books by Philippe Claudel:

FRANCE:



53. Brodeck (originally published as Brodeck's Report) by Philippe Claudel

Is collaboration in wartime an act of self-preservation or an opportunity to let out one’s secret distrust of The Other? Is collusion a collective, social act or a collection of single, personal decisions? How do you live with betrayal?

These are some of the questions explored in Philippe Claudel’s book, Brodeck’s Report. In a fairy tale village in the woods, a stranger has been murdered. Brodeck, a man recently returned from the camps, is asked to represent the village and write an official report of what occurred. At the same time, Brodeck writes a secret report, in his own voice, about what he learns and about his own life and the decisions he has made. The book begins:

I’m Brodeck and I had nothing to do with it.
I insist on that. I want everyone to know.
I had no part in it, and once I learned what had happened, I would have preferred never to mention it again, I would have liked to bind my memory fast and keep it that way, as subdued and still as a weasel in an iron trap.
But the others forced me.

From the first lines, before the reader even knows what has happened, she is asked to take sides. Is Brodeck innocent? Should some memories be allowed to fade away, or is there a moral imperative or human compulsion to share the truth?

I loved this book for the very ambiguity that makes the answers to these questions so difficult. In haunting imagery and beautiful language, Claudel leads Brodeck to the brink of the abyss and asks the reader to join him in looking in. A Holocaust novel without ever saying the words, Brodeck’s Report is easily one of the best books I’ve read this year, and I recommend it for its plot, its language, and most importantly for its ability to make me think.

# 32 - There must be something about this book because I had the exact same feeling about it, Lisa.
# 33 - Having read Brodeck last year, I cannot but heartily agree with you. This was one of my best reads of 2010.

#34 I'm so glad I'm not the only one (comfort in numbers). I wanted to like it, but too often felt like shaking Helmer and saying "get a grip". Brodeck's Report will be in my top reads for this year. Do you have a second favorite Claudel book you would recommend?

# 35 - Let's see, this is the list of books by Claudel in order of me liking them. I'd only stay away from the last one or two:
- Grey Souls / (aka By a Slow River) (my rating: 4,5 stars) (available in English)
- Quelques-uns des cent regrets (my rating: 4,5 stars)
- Monsieur Linh and His Child (my rating: 4 stars) (available in English)
- Meuse l'oubli (my rating: 4 stars)
- J'abandonne (my rating: 4 stars)
- Au revoir Monsieur Friant (my rating: 3,5 stars)
- L'Enquête (my rating: 3 stars)
You can read my comments on them individually following this thread: http://www.librarything.com/catalog/JustJoey4&deepsearch=claudel
If you decide to read any of them, I'll be looking forward to reading your comments... as always!

Belgium: Een geschiedenis van België (A History of Belgium) by Marc Reynebeau

This is an interesting survey of the history of Belgium, starting in 1830 (the year Belgium became independant) till 2009. The author focusses primarily on political and social evolutions and knits together all major changes and topics in Belgian society. I thought it was a very well-written, well-balanced overview that is enough for anyone who's slightly interested in the country and a very good stepping-stone for further reading and investigating for anyone who wants to delve into the history of this intriguing country.

The Netherlands: Terug naar Oegstgeest by Jan Wolkers

Famous autobiographic novel by a Dutch author in which he reminisces about his youth in a poor, conservative family in a small Dutch village. Interesting to see how times have changed. Nice, gentle read, but it did not blow me away as I'd thought it would. I guess the "shocking" bits critics warned about in the old days are far less shocking nowadays.

The Netherlands: Eline Vere by Louis Couperus

This is a little gem, a literary classic from a great Dutch author. Situated in the late 1800s , Couperus portrays the life of the upper-class in Den Haag, which was quite something at the time. He focusses on Eline Vere, a 20-something girl who lives with her sister and brother-in-law and who regularly falls in and out of love but never can seem to find what she's looking for in this empty life of hers. She's surrounded by family and friends who also try to make somethong of their lives, some of them who succeed, others who don't. I thought it very interesting to see how Eline developped from a young innocent, slightly spoiled girl to a hysterical wreck and how her surroundigns reacted to her. This is a very beautiful, elegant, bitter-sweet study of 19th century mores and I believe translated into English.

Belgium: Mijn kleine oorlog (My small war) by Louis Paul Boon

Breath-taking avalanche of indignation, disgust, irony in which Boon skilfully dissects the motives and means of the ordinary opportunistic man during and after the second war, in which he steals, cheats en changes sides to survive. Realistic, biting and raw, it's hard to define who's good and who's bad and that's what makes this book so incredibly beautiful, relevant and important. Boon was one of the more important Flemish writers and after having read this book, I can see why.

#39, Yes, Eline Vere has been translated into English and is one of the books I've received from my Archipelago Books subscription, although I haven't read it yet. Your review intrigues me. And as for #37, I recently read a book written in English by Luc Sante, who was born in Belgium, called The Factory of Facts which combines personal memoir with Belgium's history, culture, etc., and I found it quite fascinating. Not sure if I'm up for another book on Belgium's history, though.

I also have Eline Vere, but haven't read it yet. Caroline (cameling) read and reviewed it, and she liked it as well.

Rebecca, I'll be interested to read your opinion on Eline Vere if you decide to read it. It slightly reminded me of Buddenbrooks but I preferred the former.
And I totally understand that yet another book on Belgium might be a bit too much. I'd be interested to read the book by Luc Sante though because I think he's originally from the French side of Belgium and I would like to hear their point-of-view on Belgian history too. But I'm Belgian so this concerns me more :-)

Hi Darryl, I'd be interested to read your review of Eline Vere as well, although I think it's way out of your comfort-zone?

I won't read Eline Vere until next year, Monica. It was published by Archipelago Books in the US, which is why Caroline, Rebecca, Suzanne and I also have it.

Netherlands



We All Wore Stars: Memories of Anne Frank from Her Classmates by Theo Coster, translated from the Dutch by Marjolijn de Jager

Theo Coster lives in Israel now and, along with his wife, is known for designing world renowned games. But once, he was a thirteen year old Jewish kid living in Amsterdam and going to school with Anne Frank. Sixty-five years later, Theo decides that he wants to record his story for his grandchildren. Instead of writing a memoir, Theo is inspired by the publication of the book Absent: Memories of the Jewish Lyceum in Amsterdam. He decides to find as many of his old classmates as he can and tell their stories collectively within the framework of their all having been school chums with Anne, or Annelies, as they knew her. His project grew into the documentary, The Classmates of Anne Frank, and has been shown around the world. This book is an outgrowth of his work on the film.

The book tells the story of how Theo is able to track down five of his and Anne's classmates, their recollections of Anne, and their own stories of being a child during the Holocaust. I was a bit trepidatious about the book at first glance, worried that the author was trying to make some money off his acquaintance with the Anne. Instead, I found a warm story of a microcosm of Jewish children and how they each survived the Holocaust. Although each person interviewed is asked what they remember of Anne, the main thrust is their own stories, each of which is told in a few simple pages.

What particularly strikes me at this point, even more than I had expected, is how differently each of us has experienced the war. Individual experiences of historical events can vary incredibly widely.

BELGIUM

This book is set both in Belgium and Nigeria, I debated (briefly) putting it here, but it is as much a story of contemporary Belgium as it is of Africa.

On Black Sisters Street by Chika Unigwe (2007, T from the Dutch 2009, Belgium/Nigeria)

On Black Sisters' Street introduces us to Sisi, Efe, Ama and Joyce, four African women working as prostitutes Antwerp, Belgium. Alternating between the present, when the women are emotionally brought together by a traumatic event, and their individual pasts, this story is a searing one of dreams and desperations, hopes and tragedies. As Rachbxl says in her stellar reviewof the book, written for Belletrista last year: "...I would have assumed that I myself have nothing in common with a Nigerian prostitute; I can't say that any more because this book has challenged me to question the way I see things." I can't agree more.

The book is written in an easy prose style, sometimes using a vernacular—a Nigerian English—in dialog, which some may find challenging, but it's infrequent and lends authenticity to the story. There is a fairly clear picture of what the women's lives as prostitutes are like and how they navigate and survive such a life. The backstories of the women provide both a general sense of what life is really like for many in Nigeria, and, more specifically, these women. This is a sad and tragic story, certainly a riveting one. But beyond that one cannot help but admire these strong women who struggle to be the heroes of their own lives.

France Originally published 1884

Germinal by Émile Zola



Germinal is the seventh month of the French revolutionary calendar, falling from late March to late April, when the world is starting to germinate. It is what the 50,000 people who followed Zola's funeral procession through Paris shouted. And it is the first novel by Zola I've read, but it will not be the last.

In Germinal, Zola vividly depicts the almost unbelievably harsh work of mining coal and the equally almost unbelievably harsh living conditions under which the miners and their families (who are often employed by the mine company themselves; women and children both work in the mines) live. The reader feels the biting cold and the biting hunger, the heat and danger in the mines, and much more. At the same time, Zola creates interesting characters who despite their shared suffering emerge as individuals. He engages the readers in the debates between what could probably be called Marxists, anarchists, and gradual socialists. Most importantly, perhaps, he has written an exciting, at times thrilling and scary, at times appalling and enraging, dramatic and at times almost melodramatic, story.

Briefly, the novel tells the story of how Etienne, a young man related to others in Zola's Rougon-Macqart series, with no money, no job, no food, and inadequate clothing comes upon the coal mines at Montsou, by chance gets a job, meets various people, ends up leading a strike, finds himself in a romantic triangle with violent undertones, and ultimately moves on. In some ways, the novel is the story of his growth as a human being. But in the course of this plot line, Zola paints an all-encompassing picture of life in a coal-mining town in the early 1860s, from the the mine and the miners, to the supervisors and bosses, to the bar owners and shopkeepers, to the local bourgeois, the hired mine manager, and an independent mine owner, as well as various political hangers-on including a revolutionary who has fled from Tsarist Russia. While the miners, and their plight as the labor that produces profits for the owners and stockholders without earning enough to live on themselves, are the focus of the novel, Zola doesn't demonize all the owners and business people; like the miners, they are characterized fully, with all their pluses and minuses.

Zola did a lot of research on mines, and it shows in the many scenes set deep down in Le Voreux, the voracious mine that swallows men, women, children, and horses every day (actually the horses live underground; as Tolstoy does in Anna Karenina, Zola gets inside the heads of the horses). It is scary to think of the many dangers that the miners faced, from water seepage to rock slides to bad air, among others, and the harrowing conditions under which they worked for minimal pay. The miners seem inured to their fate, as their parents and grandparents were, and as their children are, and their grandchildren will be, until a change in payment method and the encouragement of Etienne and others lead them to strike. Of course, the strike doesn't work, and the descriptions of their essential starvation are horrifying. But when, after some terrifying mob violence, with a violent official response, they go back, after six weeks, their troubles are far from over.

Another aspect of the story is the effects of everyone living so close together, and the rampant sexual activity, occasionally referred to as "like animals". According to something I read, this has not actually been documented in mining villages, but sexuality is very much part of the story: young (very young) women expect to be be taken advantage of by the young men and to have lots of children; some men are violent to the women and some exploit them; and some women take advantage of their sexuality for fun or profit. All of this is endlessly and often maliciously gossiped about. I believe Zola is trying to show that the the submissiveness of the women is somehow analogous to that of the workers, and that both result from their exploitation and that both could change with education and more autonomy for the workers. However, although Etienne is moving on at the novel, the miners themselves are stuck in their endless cycle of poverty and oppression.

I was interested in reading this book for several reasons. Not only had I never read Zola, but arubabookwoman recommended this book to me because I had read GB84 which deals with the 1984 British mining strike, and then I read in Ngugi's Globalectics that this novel "has affinities" with Ousmane's God's Bits of Wood, which is about an African railway strike. I found it not only fascinating for the world it depicted, but a terrific story.

As a final note, the edition I read had a very helpful introduction by the translator, Roger Pearson; although I found some of the British slang he used in the translation a little distracting, he discusses the difficulties of translating slang in a translator's note.

FRANCE Originally published 1877

L'Assommoir by Émile Zola



This novel, the story of the rise and fall of Gervaise Coupeau, is so compelling I could barely put it down, even as there were times I wanted to slap Gervaise and ask her what on earth she was thinking and even though Zola can be didactic at times about his thesis that susceptibility to alcoholism is passed down from generation to generation and eventually inevitably leads to a downfall. Zola's goal with this book was to depict the people and the world of the new industrial working class living in slummy areas in what were then the suburbs of Paris.

We meet Gervaise when she has moved to Paris with Lantier, the father of her two children (one is Etienne in Germinal and the other is Claude of The Masterpiece); a laundress back in the provinces, she gets a job working in a laundry and it is there that she learns Lantier has left her for another woman, taking their meager possessions with him. Eventually, she succumbs to the pleadings of Coupeau, a roofer, to marry him, because she believes he is a hard-working, nondrininking man, who will help her achieve her goal of being able to "work, put food on your table, have a little place of your own, bring up your kids, and die in your own bed." (p. 42) Things go well at first: they have a daughter, Nana (who will have a book of her own) and save enough so Gervaise can achieve her goal of opening her own laundry (although, in the end, a harbinger of bad times to come, Gervaise has to borrow money from a sweet, but apparently slightly dimwitted, metalsmith, Goujet, who has a crush on her to be able to start the business). Again, things go well for a while, but then they don't. In the second half of the novel, we witness Gervaise's slow but inevitable slide into debt, self-indulgence, sloth, and ultimately drinking and despair, helped along the way by Coupeau, who spends his days and nights drinking, and by Lantier, who reappears, integrates himself into the neighborhood and their home, and who not only is always looking out for himself but also always does so at the expense of others.

This is just a broad outline of the plot. Zola peoples the novel and the neighborhood with dozens of other characters, many vividly drawn, others more walk-ons, and the neighborhood itself is equally a character in the novel. People live on top of each other, everyone knows everyone's business (or thinks they do), the sights and sounds and perhaps above all the smells are pervasive, and there are bars all over. Zola's genius is to relate all these people to each other and to reflect aspects of Gervaise's story in other subplots and characters. He also creates some dramatic set pieces in the Coupeau wedding party's trip to the Louvre, Gervaise's saint's day dinner, and a scene in an insane asylum. There is both depth and breadth in this novel; in some ways, Gervaise's rise and fall is reflected in the different places in which she lives, and her desire for cleanliness, depicted by her work and by her admiration of Goujet's mother's apartment, eventually succumbs to dirt and filth.

One other aspect of this novel, which created quite a stir when it was written, is that a great deal of it is written in working class French slang, some of it said to be arcane. This has has apparently been a challenge to translators; the translator of the Oxford World's Classics edition I read, Margaret Mauldon, has used working class British slang presumably from the same period. Most of this is understandable from the context. There are also lots of sexual double entendres, which also seems to have shocked the literary establishment.

Zola was criticized by both the right and the left for his portrayal of the working class: the right thought him a socialist, the left thought his depiction of the working class demeaning. His plan always was to make Germinal his novel about politics and the working class, and this novel was supposed to be their portrait. It is indeed a vivid one.

PS The picture on the cover of my edition shows a woman with dark hair; Zola makes it clear Gervaise was a blonde.

France

Maigret and the Pickpocket by Georges Simenon

Lighter fare, perhaps, then most of the books listed here, but this was my first Simenon/Maigret books and I enjoyed it quite a bit. Good characters and a good story, with just a touch of ambiguity tossed in. More to the point of this thread, perhaps, is the fact that I thought the book evokes Paris rather nicely.

FRANCE

The Fortune of the Rougons by Émile Zola Originally published 1871.



As the first in Zola's 20-book Rougon-Macquart series, the role of this novel is to set the stage, to introduce the family, to explain the rationale, and to highlight the events that started the Second Empire. Zola has several goals in this series: to show the importance of heredity and its interaction with environment; to depict the particular characteristics of the successful, legitimate, Rougon side of the family and the unsuccessful, illegitimate Macquart side; and to illustrate the social system of the Second Empire.

I am glad I read Germinal and L'Assommoir before I read this book, because they show Zola at his best: the fully developed characters, the intimacy of their lives matched by the breadth of their world, the vivid details of the environment (be it coal mining or the slums), the satire, and the compelling story telling. While these can be found in places in this book, Zola gets a little bogged down in setting the stage for the whole series (lots of background information on the two main lines of the family) and goes a little overboard in showing the development of friendship and love between the teenagers Miette and Silvère, both of whom have had difficult childhoods. Additionally, Zola's view of heredity, as explained in this book, is seriously flawed by modern standards, although perhaps novel for its time.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed this book, which takes place over a week or so during the 1851 coup in which Napoleon's nephew took over the government in Paris fairly bloodlessly while republican resistance took place in the south and elsewhere. The teenagers get wrapped up in the resistance, while Silvère's uncle, Pierre Rougon, and his wife, scheme for greater power, even while fighting their continuing battle against Pierre's half-brother Antoine, one of the founders of the Macquart side of the family. The story of the scheming, and the satiric look at the reactionary cabal, are priceless. I appreciate the understanding I got of the structure of the family (helped by a family tree at the beginning of the edition I read), and I will definitely be reading more Zola.

FRANCE

Nana by Émile Zola Originally published 1880.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads



Who is Nana? Is she a daughter of the working class Parisian slums who rose to fame and fortune by selling her body and using her wiles? Is she a woman who exploited and was exploited by men? Is she a woman who sought happiness and never really knew how to find it? Is she a symbol of the excesses of greed and financial and sexual exhibitionism of the Second Empire? In fact, she is all of these.

I was interested in reading Nana after meeting her as the willful and wayward daughter of Gervaise and Coupeau in L'Assommoir -- and because it may well be Zola's most read novel. Shocking in its sexual frankness at the time it was written, much of it is still shocking today, not in the lack of the kind of graphic descriptions we now regularly read, but in the overtness and ubiquity of the search for and payment for sex.

At the beginning of the novel, Nana is appearing on the stage of a somewhat down-at-the-heels theater that is presenting an operetta loosely based on the amorous intrigues of the Greek gods. Despite her lack of singing or acting talent, she is an immediate success because her extremely shapely body is displayed leaving very little to the imagination and because she has a real but undefinable presence. Soon, men of means and noble status are chasing her and eager to pay her bills. As the novel progresses, the reader follows the ups and downs of Nana's career as a kept woman, her search for love, her search for money, and her search for fame. Her many lovers are introduced, as are the women in the theatrical and kept woman circuits, and even some "respectable" women.

Zola is at the peak of his abilities in this novel, not only vividly depicting the world of the theater and the varied characters, but also creating such completely believable set pieces as an aristocratic party, a party of the theater/demimonde set, high society horse races, life in country houses, and a lesbian bar/restaurant. His descriptions of the finances and decor of Nana's various homes, including an incredibly ostentatious bed that is made for her, her obsessions with various lovers, and the intrigues she's involved in all are compelling. There is much more to this book too, as it examines the theater, street prostitution, the influence of the Catholic church, and the corruptibility of even the "respectable" woman. Yet . . . Zola can pile it on so thick that some of it just doesn't seem believable. And that's why I think he wrote it partly as a metaphor for the decadence and corruption of the Second Empire, an empire that, as the novel ends, is on its way to falling after defeat in the looming Franco-Prussian war.

Finally, from the perspective of the 21st century and feminism, it is easy to look at the lives of kept women such as Nana as artifacts of the past. And yet, men of power and money still seek out attractive and showy woman, still spend their money to demonstrate how much they have, still buy and furnish huge homes, and so on. Plus ça change . . .

FRANCE Originally published 1872

The Kill by Émile Zola
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads



The kill, the title of this second novel of Zola's Rougon-Macquart cycle, refers to the spoils of hunting that are given to the dogs both to reward them and to spur them on to greater efforts. It is a chillingly appropriate image of the chase after wealth and sexual pleasure ("gold and flesh") that rules the lives of the characters in this horrifying work. It takes place as Paris is being transformed through the efforts of Baron Haussmann into the Paris we know today, with broad boulevards replacing rabbit warrens of back streets, in an effort not just to "beautify" but also to eliminate good locations for barricades and to provide routes the police and army could follow to put down rebellions. Then as now, such "urban renewal" involves uprooting the poor and creating ample opportunities for real estate speculation.

Zola tells the tale of speculator par excellence Saccard (formerly Rougon) and his love for scheming, corruption, and prostitutes; his sister Sidonie who profits from other people's secrets and troubles; his second wife Renée who, despite constant purchases of dresses that almost completely display her breasts and life in a mansion decorated to excess, is sufficiently bored to slip into a completely inappropriate sexual relationship; and his son Maxime, devoted only to pleasure, sly and corrupt. It is difficult for the reader to decide which of these characters is most despicable. Their lives are frenetic; Zola describes doors constantly opening and closing, people constantly coming and going, husband and wife and stepson living their own lives while living in the same house. Even as they live in luxury -- and the decor of each of the rooms of the house, and especially the plant-filled hot house are described in infinite, and at times stifling, sensual detail -- both husband and wife owe lots of money, and Saccard, especially, is constantly scheming how to juggle the real money and the money that only exists on paper.

As in his other novels I've read, Zola is a perceptive observer of character and place, and includes a wonderful set piece of a costume ball held in the Saccards' mansion. The deception of the costumes mirror the deceptions of speculative finance, official corruption, sexuality, and adultery that fill the novel. He peoples the ball, and the book, with a variety of vivid secondary characters who, in combination, depict the excesses and corruption of the Second Empire. All in all, he is a consummate story-teller, and I could barely put this book down as I waited for the inevitable train wreck.

FRANCE
La Reve by Émile Zola (actual title of my edition is The Dream but it doesn't touchstone
Originally published 1888; translation 2005



Unlike the other works of Zola's I've read so far, this one doesn't concentrate on broad social issues, but is centered on one girl and her struggles with love and religion. I read it because it was the next in Zola's recommended order of reading the Rougon-Macquart cycle; the girl, Angelique, is the abandoned, illegitimate daughter of Sidonie, the sister of Saccard in The Kill. And although the novel, like the rest of the cycle, takes place during the mid-19th century Second Empire, the tale harks back much more to medieval times and medieval ways of thinking.

Angelique is discovered, starving and faint, huddling in the doorway of St. Agnes, the cathedral in the town of Beaumont, by the Huberts, a childless couple who live in an ancient house built against the wall of the cathedral. The most recent in a family of embroiderers of church vestments, the Huberts take Angelique in as an apprentice. As she grows up, reading legends of virgin saints and martyrs, she develops a dream that a prince will marry her and take her away. When a handsome young man, who is not who he seems to be, appears in her life, she believes her dream is coming true. I don't want to give too much away but, needless to say, obstacles arise.

Aside from the plot, much of the novel is taken up with the details of hand embroidery (superseded in large part by mechanical methods at the time of the story), church architecture (also medieval), and the lives of female saints. (The edition I read, unlike the Penguin and Oxford World Classics editions of other book by Zola I've read, did not have notes, and I would have dearly loved them to help me understand terms of architecture, embroidery, and heraldry, as well as the lives of the saints.) Recurring themes include death, martyrdom, virginity as well as the inability to bear children, the contrast between the rituals and indeed luxury of the church and the poverty of the people who live in the old section of the town around the cathedral, and the difficulties of interaction among people of different classes.

With Zola's belief that families pass along behavioral traits genetically, the reader sees Angelique struggling with her "family" demons, struggling to give up her pride and stubbornness and submit to the rules of proper behavior, although one does not have to believe in the inheritance of acquired characteristics to believe that, after the traumas of her early life, Angelique would be angry and determined. As always, Zola is a great story teller who demonstrates his thorough investigations of the worlds he depicts (especially, in this case, the techniques and materials of hand embroidery), and who can create great set pieces as well as insights into human psychology. The characters of the Huberts, the young man, and his father, as well as Angelique, are fascinating, with those of the older people in particular rooted in tragedies of the past. Much of the drama in this book takes place internally, inside people's minds, inside the Huberts' house or the cathedral, rather than out in the world as in other Zola novels. This was an excellent book, and I enjoyed reading it, but I think I like the novels with greater social scope better.

FRANCE
The Damned by J.-K. Huysmans
Originally published 1891; translation 2001



At the beginning of this novel, Durtal, a writer, and his friend, the doctor des Hermies, discuss literature, and Durtal complains about "naturalism," the style favored by Zola and other writers who depict society as it really is. He doesn't object to their writing itself, but rather to their focus on the mundane as opposed to higher levels, on materialism as opposed to the soul. Durtal has, in fact, stopped associating with other writers because, he believes they are either already public favorites always crying out for more attention or the the "dregs of society," constantly drinking and promoting their own "genius." Instead, he alternates between writing a book about Gilles de Rais, a military associate of Jeanne D'Arc who turned to vicious and massive child murder in the hopes of contacting the Devil, with talking with des Hermies and their mutual friend, the bell ringer Carhaix, about satanic rituals in contemporary 1890s Paris. As the book progresses, he gets drawn into a cat-and-mouse game with a mysterious female admirer and persists in seeking out a lapsed (excommunicated?) priest who celebrates the Black Mass.

As others have noted, spiritualism, and especially the darker angles of it, had become popular among the middle and upper classes in the second half of the 19th century. Combined with Durtal's interest in this is his longing for a time gone by, specifically the middle ages when the Catholic church was much more powerful, aristocrats ruled, and the lower classes knew their place. As des Hermies points out, comparing Durtal to the naturalist writers, "You execrate the age in which you live while they adore it. . . Sooner or later, you were bound to flee this Americanization of art to seek more airy and mountainous regions." Whether one can describe the gruesome activities of Gilles de Rais, his capture and trial, his confession and pardon by the church, and his ultimate execution as comparable to an "airy and mountainous" place is a matter of opinion. Additionally, like the protagonists of Les Diaboliques, a somewhat earlier French work which I read a month ago, who are also yearning for a time gone by, Durtal is profoundly misogynistic, preferring to seek out a prostitute when the sexual urge becomes too much for him to having a relationship and fearing the predatory nature of the mysterious woman.

I found this mildly interesting for a while, and I certainly learned a lot about the darker aspects of spiritualism and satanism, including the highly sexualized succubi and incubi (of course, the church's emphasis on chastity is transformed into its opposite). I also enjoyed Huysman's descriptions of the bell tower in which Carhaix lives, the foods they ate at their dinners, and the history of bell ringing (another lost art to be mourned). But I guess I'm just not that interested in the supernatural. Bring on Zola!

FRANCE
Pot Luck by Émile Zola
Originally published 1882, translation 1999



The English title of this book doesn't really reflect the seething activity taking place in it; a more literal translation of something like "boiling pot" would have been better. In this novel, Zola tackles the hypocrisy of bourgeois life by focusing on the residents of a single, recently built apartment building.

The story starts when Octave Mouret, related to both the Rougons and Macquarts in a complicated way (explained by the genealogical chart on this Wikipedia page)), comes to Paris to seek his fortune, and through an acquaintance from his home town of Plassans, movies into the apartment building on the Rue de Choiseul and finds a job as the head assistant at a large draper's shop run by the Hedouins. Octave is impressed by the modernity of the building, with a grand heated stairway (at least partway up the building for the tenants, only an unheated back stairway for the servants); the acquaintance, an architect named Campardon, assures him there is water and gas on every floor, although he also points out cracks in the paneling and peeling paint. He insists (as many other will insist throughout the book) that this is a "respectable" building. He tells Octave: "The only thing, my boy, is that there must be no noise and above all no women. My word! If you brought a woman here, there would be a revolution in the house." Then, after Campardon introduces Octave to his family and takes him to his new place of employment, Octave overhears him talking very familiarly with Gasparine, a supposedly estranged cousin of Madame Campardon who also works at the Hedouins. In subsequent chapters, the reader encounters the Josserand family (father, mother, two daughters who the mother is desperately trying to marry off), other tenants in the building and, very importantly, many of the servants who work for the tenants, living in tiny rooms at the top of the building and sharing news and gossip with each other by yelling out of their courtyard-facing kitchens. While Octave and the Josserats (and the family of the landlord) are at the center of a lot what happens in this novel, it is almost the building that is the main character, with the varied tenants acting as an ensemble cast.

And what happens is a lot of intrigue, both sexual and financial, among the tenants, between the tenants and the servants, between the tenants and outsiders, and between outsiders and other outsiders. "Respectable" men decry "slutty" servants one minute and visit their mistresses the next. Across the board, the contempt most of the men have for most women is spectacular. Although there are horrifying moments (including one, towards the end, that is a tour de force of Zola's naturalistic style), this is largely a satirical work, with Zola showing the dirt (sometimes literally) that lies under the veneer of bourgeois "respectability." He also manages to poke a little fun at the church, as represented by the local priest who does the bidding of his bourgeois parishioners, and to allow a few characters, including the local doctor, to express anti-Empire sentiments. The servants, who are treated terribly by their employers, of course know everything that goes on in the building and are eager to share their thoughts on their employers with each other; thus, Zola brings class issues into the mix.

As always, Zola's varied characters jump of the page, the suspense builds through his expert story-telling, and the set pieces at parties satirize pretensions while advancing the plot. While this is not my favorite of the Rougon-Macquart novels I've read so far, I couldn't put it down.

FRANCE

The Eleven by Pierre Michon



"The Eleven is not a painting of History, it is History."

More than 200 years after its creation, an unnamed narrator stands alongside his voiceless subject in the Louvre as they study The Eleven, "the world's most famous painting". Created by François-Élie Corentin in 1794, the painting portrays the eleven members of the Committee for Public Safety led by Robespierre, as they stand around a table filled with four-pound loaves of bread and Clamart wine. The French historian Michelet described the painting as a "secular last supper" in his 1852 work History of the French Revolution, and his 12 page description of The Eleven in his book has stood as the definitive interpretation of the masterpiece since then.

The narrator of this novel discusses the painting with his subject, and claims that there is much more to its creation than Michelet's flawed description of it. He briefly describes the life of Corentin, who grew up the river town of Combleux and flourished under the undying devotion of his mother and grandmother; his father, a failed poet; and the reason for the painting's commission during the Reign of Terror which followed the French Revolution. The Terror, which lasted from 1793-94, was a time in which a power struggle between Robespierre, Danton and Hébert led to the execution of tens of thousands of French citizens deemed enemies of the Revolution. The narrator describes the actions and motivations of the eleven members of the Committee for Public Safety, and portrays the difficult position that many supporters of its leading members found themselves in.

The Eleven, which was originally published as Les Onze and won the prestigious Grand Prix du roman de l'Académie française in 2009, is a deliberate and nonlinear short novel, which was a tedious read at times but ultimately gelled into an interesting and worthwhile story at its end. I suspect that the book is far more rewarding in its original language, but the patient reader of the English version may enjoy it as well.

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The Toilers of the Sea by Victor Hugo
Originally published 1866; English translation by James Hogarth 2002



This is such a magnificent book that it is difficult for me to know what to say about it. It can be read as the tale of an epic and exciting struggle, man against nature in the form of the sea, the winds, and the creatures, an adventure that in places keeps the reader on the edge of the seat. But it is so so much more. Hugo explores everything from the natural world and social structure of the Channel Islands to the genesis and progress of storms to the geology and vegetation of caverns to the construction of sailing and steam boats to important winds of the world to the types of religion on the different islands to the psychology of loss to techniques of carpentry and blacksmithing to the contrast of science and philosophy -- and much more. And yet, despite the digressive nature of much of this, as well as the fact that while some of it consists of perceptive observation, some of it is flights of fancy, or at least the wanderings of an active mind, I found it fascinating.

This was my first introduction to Hugo's writing, thanks to the Author Theme Read's group group read, and I was unprepared for the beauty of his writing -- or that I would like the excesses of his writing in which many words and phrases are better than a few words and a single phrase. Here is an example:

Possibility is a formidable matrix. Mystery takes concrete form in monsters. Fragments of darkness emerge from the mass we call immanence, tear themselves apart, break off, roll, float, condense, borrow matter from the surrounding blackness, undergo unheard of polarizations, take on life, compose themselves into curious forms with darkness and curious souls with miasma, and go on their way, like masks among living and breathing beings. They are like darkness made into animals. What is the point of them? What purpose do they serve? We return to the eternal question. p. 354

And Hugo is also a consummate story teller, who has a talent for foreshadowing. When the normally predictable ship captain Sieur Clubin slips off to buy a revolver and a bottle of brandy, the reader can't help but wonder why. When Gilliat, the hero, wanders into a magnificent cavern, sees another entrance to it, and hears a little rustling in the water, the reader knows he will return and encounter whatever creature is there. Even an event that I thought was the end of something turned out not to be so (trying to be vague to avoid spoilers). In places, the novel is incredibly exciting -- and there is also a love story.

So what is this book about, aside from being a great tale? It is easy to see it as allegorical, with Hugo in exile on the Channel Islands and feeling the social goals he has professed have been shipwrecked but can be recovered through struggle. It is also easy to see psychological and mythical angles to the book -- man's struggle for meaning, monsters in deep caverns. I tend to think it is all of these and, although I am not good at reading slowly, I would almost like to start over at the beginning, now that I've followed the plot, to gain a deeper appreciation of the writing and Hugo's ideas.

My Modern Library edition was enhanced by some of Hugo's drawings of ships and the sea and by helpful endnotes.

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A Happy Death by Albert Camus

A Happy Death was Camus's first attempt at writing a novel, which he worked on from 1936-1938 when he was in his early to mid twenties. He (wisely) chose not to submit it for publication, but after his death in 1960, his widow (unwisely) decided to allow the unfinished manuscripts to be corrected and compiled into a book, which was published in 1971.

This book is based in part on Camus's early experiences, including his childhood in a blue collar neighborhood in Algiers, his early troubled marriage to Simone Hié, a heroin addict who was unfaithful to him, his travels to central Europe and Italy in 1936 and 1937, his confinement in a sanatorium for treatment of tuberculosis which he contracted as a teenager, and his return to Algeria in 1938.

The main character in A Happy Death is Patrice Mersault, a young office worker in Algiers who is bored and unsatisfied with his life. His current lover introduces him to Roland Zagreus, an slightly older man who has accumulated a large fortune but is unable to derive benefit from it due to an accident that led to the amputation of his legs. The two men become friends, and Zagreus shares his philosophy of life with the younger man. In his view, man is able to create personal happiness through money, which allows him time to achieve freedom from responsibility and the drudgery of everyday work:

"You see, Mersault, for a man who is well born, being happy is never complicated. It's enough to take up the general fate, only not with the will for renunciation like so many fake great men, but with the will for happiness. Only it takes time to be happy. A lot of time. Happiness, too, is a long patience. And in almost every case, we use up our lives making money, when we should be using our money to gain time."

Mersault decides to test Zagreus's theory, as he murders the invalid and takes his money. Soon afterward he becomes ill with fever and fatigue, but he decides to go to Warsaw. He is miserable there, due to his illness and to the squalid conditions that exist in the depressed city, and he leaves there to travel to Genoa, and eventually back to Algiers. He stays with three younger women in a house overlooking the city, which brings him some degree of pleasure but not contentment, and he marries a woman who he is physically attracted to but does not love. Later he purchases a house in a small village on the Algerian coast, which provides him with security and comfort, but he remains vaguely unsatisfied. His health worsens, and he realizes with the utmost dread and terror that death is slowly creeping upon him:

He realized now that to be afraid of this death he was staring at with animal terror meant to be afraid of life. Fear of dying justified a limitless attachment to what is alive in man. And all those who had not made the gestures necessary to live their lives, all those who feared and exalted impotence—they were afraid of death because of the sanction it gave to a life in which they had not been involved. They had not lived enough, never having lived at all.

For me, A Happy Death was difficult and, at times, painful to read despite its short length. I found Mersault to be largely inscrutable, and the female characters were poorly developed and portrayed as vain and shallow creatures. It is best viewed as a precursor for his first published novel The Stranger (whose main character is Meursault) rather than a unique work in itself, and all but the most ardent Camus fans should avoid it, unlike The Plague.

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The Ladies' Paradise by Émile Zola
Originally published 1883; this translation 2008.



The strength of this novel is its almost overwhelming depiction of the merchandise in the Ladies' Paradise, one of the first Parisian department stores, and of Parisian women's insatiable demand for the goods it offers. The weakness is the plot and the characterization; the usually brilliant story-teller Zola falls down on that aspect of the job in this novel. However, a less good Zola is still a lot better than a lot of other books!

At the beginning of this novel, an orphaned provincial young woman, Denise, brings her two younger brothers (one a young man, one a child) to Paris, hoping to stay at the home of their uncle, who owns a small store. His business is failing, however, because Octave Mouret, the protagonist of Pot Luck, has turned the small store he acquired by marrying Mme. Hedouin (who subsequently died) into a department store which is stealing business from all the shop-owners in the neighborhood. Despite the fact that everyone she meets hates the Ladies' Paradise, Denise is attracted by it and has no other option except to get a job there as a salesgirl; this entitles her to a small room in which to live as well as her meals. As the novel progresses, she encounters various problems, is fired and then rehired, and comes to the attention of Mouret, who is the creative genius and dictatorial ruler of the store. A ladies man, he somewhat unbelievably becomes romantically interested in Denise; although she resists, her prestige rises in the store. I found the character of Denise much too meek and good to be true, and I couldn't believe the romantic attachment between Mouret and her.

So much for the plot. Zola dazzles the reader, as Mouret dazzles the shoppers, with his descriptions of the displays and the merchandise and the ways in which the female shoppers almost swoon over it. He also brilliantly dissects the inner workings of a department store: how the goods enter, how they're sold, how they're paid for, how they're shipped out, how the finances work, how the different types of employees are encouraged to compete with each other and how, mostly cattily, they treat each other, how shoplifting works and is caught, and much more. Another aspect of the novel is real estate: the creation of the large boulevards of Paris (as described in other works in the Rougon-Macquart cycle) and the attempts to cash in on them, as well as Mouret's machinations to acquire the right parcels to create a store that fills the entire block. Although Zola also tries to show how this drives the other merchants out of business, this part of the story is less fully told. As a portrait of the growth of department stores, materialism, and commercialism, this novel is fascinating, if not horrifying, and a meaningful contribution to Zola's goal of giving readers a full picture of life of during the Second Empire. It just isn't a very good story.

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Old Man Goriot by Honoré de Balzac
Originally published 1835; translation 2011



It is difficult to read the sections of this novel that deal with Père Goriot as a father and not think of King Lear -- but King Lear without any Cordelia. These sections, in which his role as a father who sacrifices his wealth and his happiness to his two hideously ungrateful daughters, are the ones in which the original title of "Father" Goriot is most important, and are also the ones that are most painful for the reader. But this novel is much more than the story of Goriot and his daughters. Instead, through the lens of the denizens of a run-down (but "respectable") boarding house in 1819/1820 Paris, Balzac creates a picture of the breadth of Parisian society, from the hereditary nobility on down to the criminals and pawnbrokers.

Much of the story follows Eugène de Rastignac, the son of a somewhat impoverished provincial noble family, who comes to Paris to study law. He stays in the boarding house of Madame Vauquer, along with a variety of others, including not only Goriot but also a mysterious but compelling man named Vautrin and a young woman, Victorine, whose extremely rich father has abandoned her, both of whom play major roles in the plot. Through a noble relative, who is at the height of Parisian society, Rastignac meets first one and then two lovely women, sisters, who turn out to be Goriot's two daughters who have married into the second tier of Parisian society, wealthy men and women who are not hereditary nobles. He finds this world of wealth and social entertaining extremely seductive, and borrows money from his loving family to fund a new set of clothes that will enable him to enter it. Partly this is Rastignac's coming of age story, as he moves from being a naive provincial young man who doesn't know his way around Parisian society to the suitor of one of the daughters, Delphine de Nucingen. However, at the same time that Rastignac is paying court to Delphine, Vautrin has cooked up a plot to help Victorine get her father's money and marry Rastignac.

Rastignac doesn't completely lose his sense of honesty and compassion as he enters a world in which both husbands and wives have other lovers: he pays his family back (albeit by gambling) and is kind to Goriot, who is despised and almost tormented by the other denizens of the boarding house (who thought the two elegant young women visiting him were prostitutes, not his daughters). Because much of the plot deals with the goings-on in the boarding house, where Goriot is not thought of as a father, it didn't bother me that the translator calls him old man Goriot instead of Father Goriot, something SassyLassy raised in her review of this book. The book is largely about love and money and how they are intertwined -- or not: at one point, Rastignac muses "Vautrin is right. Wealth equals virtue." But, of course, it doesn't.

Some of the plot seemed a little melodramatic to me, but overall this book vividly portrays life in Paris during this post-revolutionary period, sometimes in incredible detail, from the location and decor of the house to the appearance and behavior of the characters to slang trends of the times to which tradesman give credit and how various diseases are treated. Each character is fully developed, and the sights and sounds of Paris come alive. Balzac was one of the first "naturalistic" French writers, one tried to describe life as it really was and who inspired other authors such as Zola. He can also be quite funny in places. This is the first of his works I've read, and while I don't think I'll become as enthused about Balzac as I am about Zola, I will probably read more of his work.

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Lost Illusions by Honoré de Balzac
Originally published 1837; English translation 1950; notes and introduction 2001
Crossposted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads



In this tale of ambition and betrayal, friendship and revenge, deviousness and even devotion, Balzac explores the worlds of Paris and the provinces, of literature and journalism, of business and money-lending, of art and science, and of aristocratic pride versus bourgeois striving. It is a sweeping story that begins with two friends in a small town in southwest France. David Séchard has returned from an apprenticeship in Paris to take over, in an onerous and unfair transaction, his miserly father's printing business; Lucien Chardon, the son of a dead pharmacist, is a budding poet who has managed to be introduced to Madame de Bargeton, the leading lady of the titled set. David, who has dreams of making a fortune by inventing a way to make paper much more cheaply, falls in love with Lucien's sister Eve.

From there, the reader follows Lucien as he makes inroads with Mme de Bargeton,who encourages him to call himself Lucien de Rubempré, after his mother's titled family. He winds up in Paris, where he first falls in with a group of ambitious but principled young men in a variety of fields who debate ideas and generously help each other, but later is seduced by another group of young men who show him how he can make money through the corrupt field of cultural/political journalism, a field which enables him not only to get paid for his columns, which make him the talk of the town, but also to get free books and theater tickets which he can turn around and resell. As a theater journalist, Lucien meets a young (16-year-old) actress, Coralie, who is being kept by an older married man. They fall in love, and essentially live off the generosity of the married man. At least for a while. Plots are hatched, and counterplots are hatched, and Lucien winds up in dire financial straits that lead him to take a step that puts his dear friend David and his beloved sister Eve at risk. Meanwhile, back in the provinces, David has been toiling incessantly at his invention, while losing business in the print shop which is eyed covetously by his competitors, the rapacious, scheming, and very successful Cointet brothers. Much drama ensues.

The plot is complex, and the characters many, but through them Balzac paints a picture of corruption and duplicity in many facets of French life, both in Paris and in the provinces, where to some extent it's every man for himself. While a few characters epitomize goodness and generosity, including Eve (almost unbelievably good!) and the writer d'Arthez, it is the corrupt and evil characters who truly spring to life, as step by step Lucien loses not only his illusions but his integrity. In many ways, this is a profoundly depressing book.

Those who have read Père Goriot will re-encounter Rastignac and, at the very end, a mysterious Spanish priest who is not at all what he seems. I am now reading A Harlot High and Low, in which Lucien returns to Paris under the "protection" of this Spanish priest.

My Modern Library edition, translated by Kathleen Raine, had some good notes at the back illuminating contemporary cultural references and more; unfortunately, they were referenced only by page number and not in the text itself, which made finding them when I needed them into guesswork.

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A Harlot High and Low by Honoré de Balzac
Originally published 1839-1847, English translation 1970
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Book threads



This novel picks up the story of Lucien Chambron de Rubempré and the mysterious Spanish priest, Carlos Herrera, who rescues him from where it left off at the end of Lost Illusions. They have returned to Paris, and the priest's wealth and other forms of support help Lucien enter the world of Parisian nobility; he seems to have given up his interest in poetry. As the novel opens, he is in love with Esther, a beautiful former prostitute, having an affair with the married countess Madame de Sérisy, and hoping to marry Clotilde de Grandlieu, the daughter of a duke. Herrera, who the reader who has read other Balzacs soon realizes is Vautrin from Père Goriot, another name for the notorious escaped convict and criminal mastermind Jacques Collin, is out to make Lucien's fortune.

Herrera, along with his henchmen and -women, spins complicated plots and counterplots to "reform" Esther and then, after a period referred to as "A boring chapter, since it describes four years of happiness" in which Esther and Lucien live together, sets Esther up to entrap a rich banker, Nucingen, who has become obsessed with her after an incredibly brief chance sighting, and get enough money from him to enable Lucien to marry Clotilde. While all this is unfolding, a multitude of other characters, including competing police spies hired by characters with competing interests, complicate matters, as do Herrera and his associates. The plot can be confusing, if not melodramatic at times, and I don't want to say too much to avoid spoilers.

Balzac uses this novel to explore how the police and legal systems work, how police spies disguise themselves and take private commissions, how the criminal underworld and prison society work, how the nobility have their own methods and language and how they feel entitled to interfere with the legal system, and how public servants scheme to get ahead.

The French title of this book translates literally as "Splendors and miseries of courtesans," which I think is a better title than "A harlot high and low," but still doesn't capture what is for me the real heart of the novel, the story of Herrera/Vautrin/Collin, who has an astounding understanding of the different levels of French, especially Parisian, society, and a horrifying ability to take advantage of everything that presents itself to him. The question emerges of of the nature of his relationship with Lucien, as it is clear at the end of Lost Illusions that he is homosexual and has proposed to Lucien that he will help him attain status in Parisian society if they become lovers. This isn't mentioned explicitly in this novel, but Herrera certainly has strong feelings for Lucien and for another attractive young man who appears late in the plot. The translator of my edition, in his introduction, rejects this interpretation (he was writing in 1970), but it seems obvious, if veiled by the restrictions of the era, to me.

Although I was eager to read this novel, because Vautrin was such a compelling character in Père Goriot, it was a little overly melodramatic for me, although I really enjoyed following Herrera's schemes (and his remarkable "assistants," "Europe" and "Asia"), and learning about the French criminal, legal, and prison systems.

Finally, I was very disappointed that this Penguin edition did not have notes. There were many times when I had to resort to Wikipedia to look up a reference to people or works of literature, but many many more times when I didn't bother and just read without fully understanding what Balzac was trying to say. This is a novel that cries our for explanatory endnotes!

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The Necklace and Other Tales by Guy de Maupassant
Stories originally published in late 1800s; this collection and translation 2003.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads



Surprisingly, since he is considered a master of the short story and one of the earliest "modern" short story writers, I had never read any of Maupassant's stories before. The collection I read includes a varied selection, enough to give an idea of the breadth of his topics and to show Maupassant's ability to briefly but brilliantly depict places and people, including providing deep insight into their psychology. When I read the first two stories, I thought their endings were a little predictable, but I then realized that this is probably because I've read a lot of more recent stories and these endings were likely to have been novel plot twists when Maupassant wrote them.

Although the stories are varied, several themes and situations recur: Maupassant has a fondness for writing about prostitutes and for showing the hypocrisy of bourgeois society; he also often depicts French reactions to their occupation by Prussian soldiers in the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian war. Most of the tales in this collection take place in the Normandy countryside and towns, although a few take place in Paris, or elsewhere, including one chilling one (in more than one sense) in the Alps. Several of the stories, most notably "The Entity (The Horla)," have what might be called a hint of the supernatural, although I read "The Entity" as a compelling tale of a descent into madness, rather than of a haunting.

Among my favorite stories, in addition to "The Entity (The Horla)," were "Butterball" and "The Tellier House" (both featuring prostitutes and bourgeois hypocrisy), "The Water" (for its wonderful depiction of a fog-shrouded river and a man's reaction to being trapped there), "Mademoiselle Fifi" (more prostitutes and the comeuppance of the Prussian occupiers), "The Inn" (for the snowy setting, another descent into madness, and the inspiration for "The Shining"), "The Hand" (for its utter creepiness), and "A Day in the Country" (for the amazing description of the nightingale singing and what this description is standing in for).

I do have two reservations, one about Maupassant and one about the translation. Despite his fondness for prostitutes (literarilly, that is), Maupassant doesn't seem to like women much; at least, he frequently makes quite disparaging comments about them (although, to be fair, men don't come off so well either). And the translation, although it generally seemed very readable to me, jarred me when the translator used contemporary or near-contemporary slang, like "wow" and "lucky stiff" and more. I realize it's a challenge for a translator when a writer uses slang, but if it's an older work I'd rather he tried to use older expressions even if they're harder to understand.

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The Sin of Father Mouret by Émile Zola
Originally published 1875; English translation 1969
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



If Zola hadn't written this novel, I would not have finished it. And yet, in a way, I'm glad I did. Straying far from the realism for which he is justly famous, Zola enters the worlds of myth, fantasy, and hallucination. I can't say which I found more tedious: Father Mouret's adoration of first Mary and then the crucified Jesus, and his endless religious meditations, or the lush, absurdly detailed descriptions of every flower and plant imaginable when he is recuperating from some sort of breakdown in what can only be identified as the Garden of Eden.

Briefly, Serge Mouret (who is the brother of Octave Mouret of Pot Luck and The Ladies Paradise, and who, like him, is related to both the Rougons and the Macquarts), after being ordained as a priest, has been assigned to a tiny, remote Provençal village inhabited by a small group of peasants all of whom are related to each other. He lives next to the falling down church with his simple-minded sister Desirée, who is enchanted by her barnyard and its ever-growing population of farm animals, and an aging housekeeper who is always nagging him. The reader sees him performing various rites of the church, trying to convince a comparatively rich peasant to let his pregnant daughter marry the poorer father of her child, and, endlessly, fantasizing in what is almost a sexual way about Mary. His duties are interrupted when his uncle, a local doctor, takes him to the bedside of an atheistic man, who he erroneously believes is dying. The man is the caretaker of the abandoned Paradou, the former home of a rich lord with huge walled grounds and has taken in a young girl, a relative, Albine, who roams the grounds and has lost her former educated ways. Both the old caretaker and the girl are hated by the vicious local friar, Archangias. Later, when Father Mouret falls ill, apparently both physically, and mentally, his uncle takes him secretly to Paradou so Albine can care for him until he recovers. And it is there, in Paradou, riotously overgrown with every plant and animal, that Serge and Albine live an idyllic, natural life, watched over and led on by the trees and the flowers -- until they finally make love, and then know shame. Serge, once again Father Mouret, returns to the village and struggles with the knowledge of his sin -- and needless to say, things do not end well.

So, what on earth is Zola doing with this book? Influenced by the afterword written by the translator of the edition I read, I don't think it is just a criticism of the church, and it is not just a version of the biblical fall of man, although it certainly can be read that way. There is a lot of death in this book (and a lot of life), but it is clear that Zola is making the point that we all die, that it is natural to die, that nature is lush in the spring and summer but dies back in autumn and winter -- and that although we all die, life goes on. Certainly his love of religion perverted Father Mouret's humanity and love of Albine, and certainly Desirée's enjoyment of her animals and her barnyard are always a breath of fresh, if redolent, air, but the character of Albine, who in some ways is the heart of the story, remained mythical and unreal for me, and perhaps was meant to be. The most interesting thing I can say about this novel, which I almost put down many times, is that it made me think.

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Astragal by Albertine Sarrazin
Originally published 1965; English translation 1967.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



I snapped up this novel, which I had never heard of, because of Patti Smith's enthusiastic introduction. Partly autobiographical, it begins when 19-year-old Anne escapes from prison by jumping over a wall, breaking her ankle in the process. (Astragalus is another name for the talus, or ankle bone.) After crawling to the road, she is rescued by Julien, who she soon realizes is a petty criminal himself, who takes her over a period of months to various homes where she can hide from the police while her ankle heals. Needless to say, she falls in love with him, and he with her, although they spend much time apart. (In real life, Albertine was married to Julien Sarrazin.)

So much for the plot. The novel is really the story of Anne, and how she finds her way in a world that has treated her badly and forced her into a life of crime, starting, we learn, with having been in some kind of girls' "reform" school. As she shuttles between other people's homes, people who take her in at Julien's request because they too can make some kind of use of her, she is wary and resourceful, and largely keeps to herself; eventually she goes off somewhat on her own, supporting herself through prostitution.

The novel is poetic in its way, and allusive, so the reader has to do a lot of reading between the lines. Nevertheless, it has a lot of power, largely because Anne is very proud and never thinks of herself as a victim. She is very descriptive of the physical pain and disability caused by her injury and the emotional pain caused by her love of Julien. She is perceptive about herself and about the people around her -- what they want, how they present themselves, how they make use of her -- a skill no doubt developed from having to look after herself from a a young age, as well as from having been in prison and around criminals, large and small. As she notes early on in the novel:

"Prison still surrounded me: I found it in my reflexes, the jumpiness, the stealth and the submissiveness of my reactions. You can't wash away overnight several years of clockwork routine and constant dissembling of self. When the body is turned loose, the mind, which up until then had been the only escape, becomes on the contrary the slave of mechanisms; the humility you used to fake turns into genuine embarrassment; me, one with all those loud mouths in there, I no longer dared, now, take the initiative in even the most natural of actions . . pp. 50-51

Or, as she says later, thinking of her relationship with Julien,

The road is as bare and harsh as a desert; later, perhaps calmly, we'll start down magic pathways . . . I used to be pampered, petted, fussed over, too, in the old days: I was intact and able to bite, my cupboard was full and my claws were ingenious.

My equipment was destroyed, I am wounded and begging, and it's I now who offers herself and clings; people don't hold onto me at all, for I have nothing to give them but myself, myself naked, and it will a lot of time and tenderness before some resource, some source springs up in me." p. 111

This book haunted me as I read it, and I don't feel able to really do it justice. I found the ending ambiguous and would be interested in discussing it with anyone else who has read the book.

Finally, I must add that the edition I read was seriously marred by sloppy editing. Some examples: "eyed' for "I'd" in the phrase "eyed balance myself on my new pin"; on the same page saying something happened on Saturdays and then on Sundays; "has acquire" instead of "has acquired"; and more. Very annoying and I would have expected better of New Directions.

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Alien Hearts by Guy de Maupassant
Originally published 1890; English translation 2009.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads



Never has such a short novel seemed so long, unless I've blocked others out of my memory. I've spent days trying to figure out what to say about it, because de Maupassant is an excellent writer, but I just could not bring myself to care about the romantic torments of his protagonist, a rich young man with time on his hands named Mariolle, or the woman he becomes obsessed with, Madame de Burne, who seems to play with the emotions of men for fun. Furthermore, many of the characters in the novel say insulting and degrading things about women, although I suppose this only reflects the time and the place. This was a bleak novel in which the members of the upper classes, even when artists of various kinds, seem removed from the reality of life and spend their time playing at parties and affairs and gossip; the only people who seem to have a grasp on something substantive are a sculptor who enters the story only briefly and a young girl Mariolle meets when he flees to the country to try to forget Madame de Burne. I felt that I was experiencing some of the torment Mariolle felt by reading endlessly about his thoughts and feelings; all I can say is that Proust did this a lot better even though he did it at much greater length. I wanted to like this book a lot more than I did.

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A Priest in the House (The Conquest of Plassans) by Émile Zola
Originally published 1874; English translation 1957.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



I read this Rougon-Macquart book out of sequence because I only recently discovered it was available in a 1957 English translation, but whatever possessed the translator to call it "A Priest in the House" instead of "The Conquest of Plassans" and the publisher to give it that horrifying cover boggles my mind. It really is a story about the conquest of Plassans, Zola's fictional southern French town, by that priest, not the story of the priest in the house. I guess they thought it would sell more books.

At the beginning of the novel, a seemingly awkward new priest, Abbé Faujas, comes to town and, at the request of the current priest, lodges with his mother in the happy and comfortable house of the Mourets, François and Marthe (née Rougon) (François is her cousin, descended from the Macquart side of the family). The Mourets have three children: Octave, who will reappear in Pot Luck and The Ladies Paradise, and Serge who, along with the mentally challenged sister Desirée, will reappear in The Sin of Father Mouret. Marthe's parents are the Rougons who appeared in the first Rougon-Macquart novel, The Fortune of the Rougons.

At first everyone wonders about the new priest, because he keeps to himself and seems inept socially. Gradually we learn that Marthe's mother, who keeps a salon that attracts all three factions of the town (the old nobility, the followers of Napoleon's empire, and the royalists who want to bring the traditional royal family back), has schemed with someone in Paris (presumably her son, His Excellency, Eugene Rougon), to have Faujas come to Plassans, but it isn't clear why. As time goes on, Marthe becomes attracted spiritually and emotionally to the priest, and becomes involved in more religious and social welfare activities, neglecting her husband, her home, and her children, which heretofore had been the center of her life. A sister and brother-in-law of the priest arrive in town and seem to be up to no good. Life in the Mouret home deteriorates, until the novel builds to a melodramatic and not completely believable conclusion.

The strength of this novel is more in its depiction of the pettiness and cattiness and scheming of provincial life than in the machinations of the priest, whose transformation from awkward newcomer to cold and haughty schemer I found hard to take. It also effectively illustrates the role of the church in society. The minor characters of the townspeople are all well drawn, as is the picture of the Mouret home and its bucolic setting. François, at first, has good instincts about who to be suspicious of, and Faujas's mother is a wonderful creation as well. But the changes in François, Marthe, and Faujas himself just didn't seem real to me: dramatic, yes, plausible, a stretch.

In this book also, Zola lays on his genetic theories pretty thick, as both François and Marthe are grandchildren of the founding mother of the Rougon-Macquart families who is now in an insane asylum in town that is actually featured in this novel; the physical similarity of both François and Marthe to her is remarked on, and Marthe fears she is going insane.

There was a lot to like in this novel, and it was hard to put down as it built to its conclusion. I'm glad I read it, as it helped me fill in some of the blanks in the Rougon-Macquart cycle

BELGIUM

Reticence by Jean-Philippe Toussaint
Published in French in 1991; English translation 2012
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads



At the beginning of this somewhat mysterious novella, the narrator observes a dead cat in the water of the harbor in the small town he and his infant son are visiting, and believes the cat has been "murdered." At the end of the novella, the mystery of the cat's death is solved. In between, the narrator goes about his business, seemingly viewing none of his very strange actions as anything other than ordinary. He becomes obsessed with the idea that a man named Biaggi, a man who is apparently his friend and who apparently he has come to see, is following him and observing him, and goes to great (and illegal) lengths to try to catch Biaggi in the act. He tends to his son, and then at other times leaves him by himself in the hotel room. He reveals something which may be true or may be entirely in his imagination. His behavior throughout is extremely peculiar and, though he is obviously an extremely unreliable narrator, it may in fact be what he really did because he seems to have no awareness that his behavior is so peculiar.

Is he reticent about visiting Biaggi properly? Is he reticent about telling the readers the "truth"? Although I was mystified by this book, it was a quick read and I enjoyed it.

FRANCE

The Belly of Paris by Émile Zola
Originally published 1873; English translation 2007.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



Food -- piles and piles and displays and displays of meats, chickens, cheeses, vegetables, fruits, salted items, and more -- are the stars of this novel by Zola, which only peripherally involves members of the Rougon-Macquart family: Lisa Quenu, the sister of the unforgettable Gervaise of L'assommoir, and Claude Lantier, an artist who is one of Gervaise's children and who will be the protagonist of The Masterpiece. The protagonist of this novel is Florent Quenu, half-brother of Lisa's husband, has managed to find his way home to Paris after being deported to Devil's Island based on a trumped-up arrest following the coup that initiated the Second Empire in 1851; he is brought to Les Halles on the last leg of his journey by a farming woman taking her vegetables to market who picked him up when he was lying half-dead from exhaustion and hunger by the edge of the road. However, his story (including the back story of his childhood, arrest, and imprisonment) is almost secondary to the descriptions of the foods and operations of the recently opened Les Halles, which stands as a symbol of both bourgeois plenty and decay.

To give the flavor (sorry!) of this:

"All around them the cheeses were stinking. On the two shelves of the back of the stall were huge blocks of butter: Brittany butter overflowing its baskets; Normandy butter wrapped in cloth, looking like models of bellies on to which a sculptor had thrown some wet rags; other blocks, already cut into and looking like high rocks full of valleys and crevices. . . . But for the most part the cheeses stood in piles on the table. There, next to the one pound packs of butter, a gigantic cantal was spread on leaves of white beet, as though split by blows from an axe; then came a golden Cheshire cheese, a gruyere like a wheel falling from some barbarian chariot, some Dutch cheeses suggesting decapitated heads smeared in dried blood and as hard as skulls -- which has earned them the name of 'death's heads'. A parmesan added its aromatic tang to the thick, dull smell of the others. Three bries, on round boards, looked like melancholy moons. p. 210

And so on, for another page!

Florent is appalled by the richness and selfishness of his brother and sister-in-law, and of the charcuterie which they run; he refuses his share of an inheritance, but nevertheless stays with them. Soon, he is persuaded, despite reservations, to take over the job of fish inspector in Les Halles, falls in with some would-be revolutionaries, is the subject of intensive gossip and spying by a slew of local women, spends some time with the painter Claude Lantier and with the farmer who brought him to Paris, and needless to say gets into additional trouble.

But the real subject of the novel is the bourgeois consumer excesses and self-satisfaction of the Second Empire, as symbolized by all the food, in contrast to the the poor, the thin, the revolutionaries, the artists, the farmers, and two teenagers who grew up roaming around Les Halles and making it their home. As Lisa, who prides herself on her respectability, above all, thinks at one point, after hearing Florent talk about going without food for three or more days in the course of his escape:

"But the scornful pout of her lips and her straight unflinching gaze clearly implied that in opinion only a scoundrel could ever go without food in this ill-regulated fashion. A man capable of living without food for three days struck her as a highly dangerous character. Respectable people never put themselves in that position. p. 85

Furthermore, this novel is full of blood and fat: the blood when animals are slaughtered and when the Quenu charcuterie makes blood sausage; the fat of all the foods in the charcuterie and on the financially successful shop owners. Lisa and her peers take pride in their fatness as a sign of their success, and are suspicious of Florent's thinness; Claude Lantier explicitly discusses the conflict between the Fat and the Thin.

The other main aspect of this novel is the level of gossip and spying that goes on. Zola introduces the reader to several different families and individuals who are involved in some way in the business of Les Halles, and many of them seem to be diligently spying on each other and then spreading malicious gossip to cause people to fall out with each other. One woman in particular, Mademoiselle Saget, is a master of this, and also lives high up in a building so that she can see from her window everyone who goes by and what they're doing. Of course, there are "real" spies too, informers for the police.

This was Zola's third Rougon-Macquart novel, and the first in which he made use of the kind of research into the details of an environment or an activity that make some of his other novels so stunning. (I read it now because I'm more or less following the reading order suggested by Zola according to this Wikipedia page.) It paints an unforgettable portrait of the workings of Les Halles, while at the same time criticizing the bourgeois contentment of the Second Empire that made people close their eyes to injustice and economic struggle.

FRANCE

The Laughing Man by Victor Hugo
Originally published 1869; English translation 2008.
Crossposted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.

     
My inadequate cover  A better cover from an uninspired lot

There is nothing funny about either The Laughing Man (the book) or the laughing man (the person) although, in this compelling and horrifying work, Hugo wields a biting wit.
In his epigraph, Hugo writes "The proper title for this book would be 'Aristocracy," and indeed it would, although he brings together a wide-ranging cast of characters, situations, and ideas to indict the pretensions, idiocy, and cruelty of the inherited nobility.

The novel starts with an introduction to two unusual characters, friends and companions ("Ursus was a man. Homo a wolf.") and to the practice of physically deforming children for the entertainment of the rich and powerful. The story itself then begins, with Hugo slowly introducing the reader to the pieces of the puzzle: a boy abandoned on a lonely shore, a shipwreck, and the rescue of an infant girl from a dead mother, as well as the machinations of various kings, a queen, a duchess who is the illegitimate daughter of a king, assorted nobles, and a sleazy schemer of the first order. The boy and the girl were taken in by Ursus, and as time passes they not only participate in what is in essence a traveling show but also fall in love. Through a series of coincidences that would be laughable if they were not so masterfully plotted, disaster (perhaps clothed as opportunity) strikes. I won't write more about the plot so as to avoid spoilers, but will only say that the ending was a tad melodramatic. The novel takes place in the late 1600s and very early 1700s in England.

The plot gives Hugo the opportunity to display his knowledge of a wide range of topics, from weather over the sea and how boats founder on unseen reefs to the way children are mutilated and the national backgrounds of people who do it, from the history of the English monarchy to the sequence of when different titles were created and how they were passed down, from the architecture of the old House of Lords to the details of how it operated and how new peers were installed and admitted into it -- and much much more. Because Hugo is such a good writer, most of the time all this is interesting and not overly digressive.

All of this plays into his great subject, which is the appalling depravity and uselessness of the aristocracy, and the heavy toll they and the powerful in general take on the lives of everyone else. In today's terminology, it is the 1% and the 99% writ large. Examples abound.

Discussing the entertainment habits of the young idle rich, Hugo writes: "The members of the Fun Club, all of the highest aristocracy, used to range through London at a time when all good citizens were asleep, tearing shutters off their hinges, cutting the supply pipes of pumps, knocking holes through beams supporting houses and breaking window panes, particularly in the poorer quarters of the town. It was the rich who were doing this to the poor, so that no complaint was possible. After all, it was just fun. . . .If this was being done by poor people they would be be sent to jail, but it is done by well brought-up young men." p. 155

Ursus commenting on his own knowledge (of medical techniques and social insight): "'I am a wild scholar; they are tame scholars. Doctors harass the learned. False learning is the excrement of true learning.' . . . We do not present Ursus as a man of refinement. He had the effrontery to use words which reflected his thoughts. He had no more taste than Voltaire." p. 253

The laughing man making a speech to the House of Lords: ""What is the father of privilege? It is chance. And what is its son? It is abuse. Neither chance nor abuse is substantial; for each comes a day of reckoning. I come to warn you. I come to denounce to you your happiness: it is made from the the unhappiness of others. You have everything and this everything is formed from the nothing of others." p. 410.

But above all this is a lively and entertaining read. The characters are vivid, the plot unfolds, and I found it hard to put down. There were parts, as I said, that dragged a little, especially the somewhat endless philosophizing about love, and I didn't like this book as much as I loved Hugo's Toilers of the Sea, which I read earlier this year. Even in this book, Hugo's writing about the sea is some of his strongest, as this example shows:

"Shipwreck is the ideal expression of impotence. To be near land and unable to reach it, to be afloat and unable to direct your course, to have your feet on something which appears solid and yet is fragile, to be full of life and full of death at the same time, to be held prisoner in the vast expanses of the sea, to be walled in between the sky and the ocean, to have the infinite overhead like a dungeon, to have round you the immense evasion of the winds and the waves, and to be seized, garrotted and paralysed -- this state of dejection bewilders and infuriates you. . . . A grain of sand in the desert, a flake of foam in the ocean are manifestations of stupefying power. Omnipotence does not take the trouble to conceal its atoms; it turns weakness into strength; it fills nothingness with its All; and it is with the infinitely little that the infinitely great crushes you. It is with drops of water that the ocean grinds you down. You feel yourself a mere plaything. pp. 88-89

The laughing man and others in this book are mere playthings for the rich and powerful.

A note on my edition. When I read Toilers of the Sea, I was impressed by the translator, James Hogarth, and noted that this was the only modern translation of this work. So I looked for him as a translator of other less well-known, and similarly not recently translated, works by Hugo and found this book and Ninety Three, published (posthumously for Hogarth) by a British company called Kennedy & Boyd. I am not sure what to make of this publisher; they have a web site, have published other books, and seem to be an imprint of a larger publishing group. However, the book has a completely plain cover, is sloppily edited (i.e., weird sentence breaks in places, a typo in a chapter heading, and inconsistency in how chapter and section titles are presented). It smells of some kind of vanity press, and yet Hogarth is a wonderful translator and provided helpful notes, and publishing a modern translation of this work is a wonderful service for people who can't read French.

FRANCE

Onitsha by J.M.G. Le Clezio
Originally published 1992; English translation 1997.
Crossposted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



This cover is a detail from a painting entitled "August Visitor (Arrival of White Men in an Ibibio Village" by E. E. Ekefrey.

The more I thought about what I should say about this book in my review, the more I realized how complex the novel really is and how much is left unsaid. It starts as the partially autobiographical story of Fintan, a boy who seems to be about 11 or 12 years old, traveling with his Italian mother (whom he calls Maou) by ship from the Atlantic coast of France to Onitsha on the Niger River in Nigeria. It is 1948, the war is over, and Fintan's English father, Geoffroy, whom he has never met, has sent for Maou and Fintan to join him in Onitsha.

The first part of the novel depicts the voyage, which the reader sees through both Fintan's and Maou's eyes, as they enter a foreign world and feel the impact of both the climate and the racist/colonial structure of the society. None of this is didactic; it emerges from the perceptions and actions of the characters. The later parts of the novel take place in and around Onitsha, except for the very end when the family leaves Africa.

In Onitsha, once again, each member of the family reacts to the world in which they find themselves -- Maou and Fintan mostly among the Africans, Geoffroy largely among the colonial English, those engaged in commerce, as he is, and those representing the government. But Geoffroy has another interest, one which drew him to Africa in the first place. He is convinced that the last black queen of Meroë, part of ancient Egypt, led her people up the Nile and across the mountains to found another kingdom on the banks of the Niger, perhaps at a mystical site known as Aro Chuku. (I did a lot of Googling at this point.) His imaginings of this journey, shown in another typeface in my edition, are interspersed with the rest of the novel, and progress as the novel progresses. Geoffroy also comes to think of a mysterious young woman, Ayo, who is unable to speak or hear and whose past is uncertain, as a reincarnation of the long ago black queen.

Meanwhile, Maou irritates the colonial powers by showing her disgust with how they treat the Africans, including a group of prisoners hired to dig a swimming pool while still chained together who carry on their work in sight of a dinner party at the district officer's home. Fintan explores the natural world with a slight older friend, Bony, quickly shedding his shoes and socks to run barefoot over the savannah and rocks; he also is becoming aware of sexuality. A mysterious European, Sabine Rodes, who has an "adopted" African son as his servant, as well as some association with the equally mysterious Ayo, also figures in the story.

Le Clezio's writing is beautiful, and he vividly depicts the very different environment the mixed European family finds itself in, and how they react to it.

"It was the beginning of the rainy season. The big river was the color of lead beneath the clouds, the wind flattened the treetops with violence. Maou no longer left the house in the afternoon. She stayed on the veranda, listening to the rising storms, far off towards the source of the Omerun. Heat crackled the red earth before the rain. The air danced above the tin roofs. From where she sat she could see the river, the islands. She had lost all desire to write, or even to read. She needed only to look, to listen, as if time were of no more importance." pp. 119-120

Beyond the tale of a boy experiencing a new world, and the picture of colonialist racism in action, and the dream-like story of an historic or mythical migration, and the vivid depiction of a time and a place, this book also seems to be about voyages of various kinds, isolation of various kinds, and the urge to write. Geoffroy travels from England to Italy and then to Africa, Maou with her mother and aunt and Fintan from Italy to France and with only Fintan to Africa, the black queen of Meroë from the Nile to the Niger, and finally the family back to England and France. All are alone in a way, finding their place in Africa on their own, Maou and Geoffroy coming from different parts of Europe and leaving their own families behind. And each writes something at some point in the story: Maou letters to Geoffroy, Fintan a story of a girl who takes "a long voyage" to Africa, and Geoffroy his notes about the epic journey of the queen of Meroë. Left unsaid, but looming in the background, are the devastation World War II brought to the Europe they have left and the impending anti-colonial upheavals in the Africa they leave at the end. As the mysterious Sabine Rodes says to Maou:

"Have a good look about you! The days are numbered for all of us, all of us! For good people and bad, for honorable people and for those like me! The empire is finished, signorina, it's crumbling on every side, turning to dust: the great ship of empire is sinking, honorably! You speak of charity, don't you, and your husband lives in his dream world, and meanwhile everything is crumbling around you! But I shan't leave. I shall stay here to see it all, that's my mission, my vocation, to watch the ship go under.", p. 143

(Incidentally, Rodes has already seen a real ship go under in the river, a wreck that figures prominently in the novel.)

At the very end of the book, a now-adult Fintan reflects on how his year in Africa infused his whole life, leaving him with feelings that set him apart from others, and how his experiences there connect him with the then-ongoing war in Biafra.

This is a book that I will continue thinking about for a long time.

FRANCE

L'Amour by Marguerite Duras
Originally published 1971; English translation 2013
Crossposted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



This is the first book I've read by Duras, and what a strange book it is. More impressionistic than a traditional novel, it has a film-like character to it with very spare descriptions of the scene and the actions and little in the way of plot. According to the introduction and afterword, and also a helpful interview with the translators provided by Open Letter, the publisher, with my copy (I am a subscriber), the characters in this novel, referred to as "the woman" or "she," and "the traveler" and "the man who walks," both called, sometimes confusingly, "he," are characters in several other novels and movies in Duras' "India cycle," although it is said this book can be read on its own.

I found it beautiful but mystifying. The language is very simple, very repetitive, and yet poetic. The sentences are often very short, and paragraphs can be one line. Here is an example, almost picked at random.

"She is silent.
The light changes again.
He raise his head, looks in the direction of her gesture; he sees that from the far end of S. Thala, toward the south, the man who walks is returning, making his way through the seagulls, he is returning.
His pace is even.
Like the changing of the light.
Accident.
Again the light: the light. Changes, then suddenly does not change anymore. Brightens, freezes, even, shining. The traveler says:

    --The light

She looks. pp. 8-9

The story, such as it is, takes place in S. Thala, a resort town where the river meets the sea, that is apparently either out of season or has been abandoned. There are empty buildings, fires, sounds reminiscent of parties in times gone by.

Light and darkness, day and night; looking and seeing, looking and not seeing;walking, coming, going, returning, etc.; the beach and the sea; remembering and forgetting; pregnancy, illness, and death; cries and groans -- all of these seem to play a role in this book. It seems, to me anyway, that Duras wanted to strip down her language, allowing readers to visualize in their own minds what is happening, even though much of what is happening is surrealistic and incomprehensible. What comes across is that there was a livelier, happier life for the characters there in S. Thala sometime in the past -- and that something happened to change that so that the characters seem disturbed, or at least very sad.

This was a puzzling read, and I'm not sure if it makes me want to read more Duras or stay far away!

the Netherlands

The Dinner, Herman Koch, 2009, translated from the Dutch 2012, audiobook


Cover comments: yes, this will work.

Comments: The only thing I knew about The Dinner was that it was one of those books that people really want to talk about after they read it, and that it had been a best seller in Europe before being translated into English. So when I started listening to it, I had no expectations of any kind. And in that spirit, I'm going to tell you almost nothing about the book so you too can approach it with a clear mind.

I will just give you the briefest summary. The first person narrator, Paul, and his wife Claire, go to a preposterously priced and very pretentious restaurant for an evening with Paul's brother Serge and his wife Babette. Everyone expects Serge to become the next prime minister of the Netherlands, and Paul has some pretty intense sibling rivalry issues going on (the reader of this audiobook amusingly uses a tone of utter disdain whenever he says "Serge."). At first, Paul's acerbic thoughts on his brother and the restaurant are rather amusing, but as you read on, things start to get dark. And then they get very dark. And that's all I'm going to tell you.

Recommended for: It's no secret that none of the characters in this book are likable. If vile people upset you, don't read this book. Although the story happens over the course of the dinner, there are flashbacks, so you also have to like the non-linear story. And there is lots of social commentary--some of it not very nice. And then there is the violence. In short, if you like twisty, compelling books with amoral characters behaving badly, this is the book for you. In that way, it reminded me of The Slap, although I think I like this one better. I can see this being a great book club book because there is so much going on and so much to say about it, and because people seem to really like or really hate it. I won't be recommending it for my book club, however, as I know that they would all just hate it so much. But I liked it!

Rating: 4 stars

Why I Read This Now: book from my wishlist available on audiobook.

FRANCE

The Masterpiece by Émile Zola
Originally published 1886; English translation 1993.
Cross-posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.



In this volume of the Rougon-Macquart cycle, Zola explores the Parisian art world and artistic creativity, principally that of the protagonist, painter Claude Lantier, but also that of other painters, sculptors, journalists, and even a writer loosely based on Zola himself. Lantier is a son of Gervaise, the force of nature from L'assommoir, but was sent back to Plassans to go to school. His friendship with Sandoz (the Zola figure) and Dubuche (who becomes an architect) dates from those years, when the three of them walked for hours and even days over the Provençal landscape, dreaming of coming to Paris and revolutionizing the art world. (This really happened with Zola and Cezanne and a man called Baptistin Baille, who Wikipedia tells me became a professor of science; more on Cezanne later.)

There is a lot about the politics of the art world in this novel, including how various dealers operate. The famous Salon des Refusés of 1863, when works rejected by the official Paris Salon for its exhibition were shown in an annex by the decree of the emperor, is a highlight early in the book. Manet exhibited his "Déjeuner sur l'herbe" there, and in the novel Lantier exhibits a painting similar in some ways called "Plein air"; it is roundly jeered. Nonetheless, his "plein air" ideas are eventually copied by other artists. Later in the novel, the description of the politics of selecting pictures for the annual Salon becomes much more pointed.

The novel follows the arc of Lantier's career starting with his early days in Paris and focuses a great deal on his obsession with painting, with working every hour of the day, with being blind and deaf to interruptions, and on his artistic theories about being realistic, using natural light from the outdoors, and much more. Observing the paintings in the Salon des Refusés exhibit, Lantier muses:

"Some of the efforts were clumsy, inevitably, and some were childish, but the general tone was admirable and so was the light, a fine, silvery, diffused light with all the sparkle of open air! It was like a window thrown open on all the drab concoctions and the stewing juices of tradition, letting the sun pour in until the walls were as gay as a morning in spring, and the clear light of his own picture, the blue effect that had caused so much amusement, shone out brighter than all the rest. This was surely the long-awaited dawn, the new day breaking on the world of art!" p. 122

Later Lantier gets involved with a woman, Christine; they move to the country for some years and have a son who has some ill-defined health and mental problems. While they are happy there for some time, the siren call of Paris, his friends, and the art world lure Lantier back. He becomes even more obsessed with his work, eventually starting a huge project, the "masterpiece" of the title, that he works on for years and years, never quite getting it the way he wants it. Christine, who adores Lantier, is jealous of his painting and tries to get him to pay more attention to her and the son. Eventually, the plot becomes a little melodramatic.

The stories of Sandoz and some of the other creative people in the novel provide a counterpoint to Lantier's story. Some are successful, some sell out, some fail. Not surprisingly, Sandoz comes off very well; although he too is obsessed with his writing, he has a more well rounded life than Lantier, marrying a woman who seems delightful and hosting regular Thursday night dinners for his friends, dinners that become more elaborate as his novels begin to sell. Like Zola himself, he is writing a cycle of novels with a purpose:

"Look. The idea is to study man as he really is. Not this metaphysical marionette they've made us believe he is, but the physiological human being, determined by his surroundings, motivated by the functioning of his organs . . . That's the point we start from, the only possible basis for our modern revolution. The inevitable death of the old conception of society and the birth of a new society, and that means a new art is bound to spring up in a new ground . . . Oh, that's bound to happen! A new literature for the coming century of science and democracy!" p. 154

In this book, Zola describes the scenery of Paris in a painterly manner; it is filled with light and visual imagery to a degree I don't recall from works of his I've read earlier. There are also funny parts, and earthy parts, but a lot of the novel is sad and even horrifying as the reader sees Lantier's obsession taking hold of him in an unproductive and unhealthy way; since he comes from the Macquart side of the family, the reader expects some self-destructive tendency to become apparent.

Now to the controversy. Zola sent a copy of the book to his friend Cezanne, who then never spoke to him again. According to the introduction to my Oxford World's Classics edition, Zola based some personal characteristics on Cezanne, others on Manet, and of course made others up. But this was much talked about back in the day.

This was not my favorite of Zola's novels -- parts of it moved slowly and parts were melodramatic -- but the ins and outs of the art world were fascinating and so was the portrait of Paris.

MONACO
Plus belle sera la vie by Stéphane Bern (2007) - 3,5 stars

In this fictionalized biography, Stéphane Bern digs deep into the personal life of Marie Blanc, wife of François Blanc. This dynamic couple put Monaco on the map: in the 19th century the prince of Monaco agreed to let the Blancs build a casino, hotel de Paris and other amenities that brought the wealthy and their money to Monaco. The Blanc-family became one of the wealthiest in Europe.
The Marie Blanc that is portrayed in this book is based on the real Marie Blanc. Born into a a large family of shoemakers, she caught the eye of the wealthy widow François Blanc, a casino-director in Bad Homburg. More than 25 years her senior, he let her get a proper education before he married her. Marie was a down-to-earth woman who was totally committed to her husband, their three children and the obligations that went with her status.
The author tells the story mainly from Marie's point-of view. She lives in a sophisticated, glamorous world so the pages are filled with opulence and luxury. Historical facts and figures give the book an authentic feel, but when looking closer into the real history of Marie Blanc, it appears that the author has slightly changed her biography although I can't see why he did that. The real Marie Blanc's life seems interesting enough.
This would have been an amazing biography if the author had kept to the facts and included his sources. Now it's a delightful, very enjoyable piece of fiction.
And don't be fooled by the cover. It's a lot more profound than it appears from that cover.

FRANCE

1914: A Novel by Jean Echenoz



The latest novel by Echenoz opens in the Vendée region of France, as a lazy and quiet Saturday afternoon in August 1914 is interrupted by the insistent pealing of church bells throughout the region, which signals a call for mobilization for the impending war against Germany. The novel focuses on five ordinary men in one village, and a young woman who loves one man and is fond of another. The men and their commanding officers are convinced that the combat will last no longer than a few weeks, and that all will return home safely. However, as weeks turn into months and months into years, and as the soldiers see their companions felled in action, they are transformed into dispirited men who rely on alcohol to dull their senses. Echenoz writes poignantly about their seemingly hopeless circumstances:

Well, you don't get out of this war like that. It's simple: you're trapped. The enemy is in front of you, the rats and lice are with you, and behind you are the gendarmes. Since the only solution is to become an invalid, you're reduced to waiting for that “good wound”, the one you wind up longing for, your guaranteed ticket home, but there's a problem: it doesn't depend on you. So that wonder-working wound, some men tried to acquire it on their own without attracting too much attention by shooting themselves in the hand, for example, but they usually failed and were confronted with their misdeed, tried, and shot for treason. Mowed down by your own side rather than asphyxiated, burned to a crisp, or shredded by gas, flamethrowers, or shells—that could be a choice. But there was also blowing your own head off, with a toe on the trigger and the rifle barrel in your mouth, a way of getting out like any other—that could be a choice too.

The lives of the five men are all irrevocably altered by the war, in different ways. However, Echenoz shows us that the trauma of war is not limited to those who have experienced combat, or have had their homes or livelihoods taken away from them. Many seem to lose their basic sense of humanity by taking advantage of their countrymen in battle, overcharging them for food or drink as they march through villages, or supplying them with overpriced, shoddily made equipment.

1914 is a quiet and elegantly written novella about the effects of The Great War on a group of ordinary men and citizens of a small French town, whose power comes not from grisly descriptions of combat, but in the benumbed despair that afflicts everyone in its midst. The book is greatly enhanced by notes from the book's translator, Linda Coverdale. Although this book doesn't match my favorite ones by Echenoz, it was still a very enjoyable read.

FRANCE

The Black Sheep by Honoré de Balzac
Originally published 1842; English translation 1970.
Cross-posted from my Club Read thread.



This is quite the tale of greed, selfishness, gambling, thievery, corruption, plot and counterplot -- and art. Balzac tells the story of a good and a bad brother (said to be based somewhat on his brother and himself, although there is no way his brother could have been as evil as Philippe), their widowed mother Agathe, and various relatives and hangers-on, including his mother's brother who has received the entire inheritance of their father because he erroneously believed that Agathe was not his child.

The story starts in Paris: after their father's death, Joseph (the good brother) and Philippe received educations because their father, a high-level clerk, had been a big supporter of Napoleon. Philippe served brilliantly in the army under Napoleon, but refused to serve under the Bourbons after Napoleon's defeat, and is at loose ends, not able to hold down a job because of his drinking, womanizing, general carousing, and gambling. Joseph, on the other hand, is becoming an artist, having first become entranced by the art students at a local school. Agathe loves Philippe the most, because of his glorious military career and because he is handsome; she doesn't understand the world of art that so attracts Joseph and finds him unattractive (he is described as being ugly). Soon, Philippe runs out of money and so steals from his mother and brother, neither of whom have very much to begin with, and from their aunt who basically lives with the family. As the first part ends, the aunt has died from the shock of the theft and Agathe has for once turned against Philippe; Philippe is basically homeless and in the gutter when he is arrested as a participant in a plot against the king.

The scene shifts in the second part, as Agathe and Joseph travel to the provinces where the uncle with the money lives. Staying with Agathe's godmother, who lives in the house next door, they learn that the uncle, Jean-Jacques, has come under the influence of his housekeeper-mistress, Flore, who rules the household with an iron hand, even to the point of allowing her lover, Max, to live with them. Of course, they are trying to fleece him of his money. Max is the head of a secret group of young men, called the Knights of Idleness, that wreaks havoc in the town of Issoudun through their nightly "pranks"; like Philippe, he is a former army officer from the Napoleonic era and, also like Philippe, he is a man who is only out for himself. Agathe and Joseph prove to be no match for Max and Flore, and return to Paris without the inheritance and after some horrifying episodes. In the last part, Philippe is paroled to Issoudun, where needless to say he worms his way into the Jean-Jacques household, setting off an inevitable clash between the two evil geniuses of this novel (or three, including Flore). I will not reveal the end result, so as to avoid spoilers, but I will say that as a reader I had to suspend disbelief about the change in Philippe from a weak man at the mercy of his vices to a disciplined plotter. But thoroughly no good throughout!

This was an all-around fun read, although it dragged in a few places (for example, the detailed description of the history and geography of Issoudun). Balzac created some truly evil characters and let them try to outwit each other, with much opportunity for treachery and dastardly deeds. And some of the other characters, like a lawyer friend of Joseph's and the miserly husband of Agathe's godmother, are also well drawn. Along the way, the book provides insight into the politics and economics of post-Napoleonic France, the pitiless attitude towards poor people, the struggle of artists, the role of lawyers, the mutual disdain of Parisians and people living in the provinces, and the everyone-knows-everything atmosphere of small towns. I first heard about this novel here on LT, and I'm glad I read it.

ETA My edition could really have benefited from end notes, as I was driven to Wikipedia frequently to look up historical and literary references; Penguin editions often have them, but this one didn't.

THE NETHERLANDS

The Forbidden Kingdom by Jan Jacob Slauerhoff
Originally published 1932; English translation 2012.



This is a strange book that mixes history and imagined history with the magical (?)/psychological (?) merging of an early 20th century Irish ship's radio operator with a 16th century Portuguese poet imprisoned in Macao. The novel starts with a history that alludes to the "founding" of Macao, and then shifts to the story of the Portuguese poet, Camões (a real, and famous, poet, although the novel's story doesn't match his real life, at least as described by Wikipedia). With his story told both in the third and first persons, he is introduced as a courtier in love with the fiancee of the prince; exiled, and at odds with his dying father, he sets out to Macao but, when the sealed ship's orders are opened partway through the journey, he is arrested by order of the king. Thanks to a shipwreck, he escapes and is thrown into a series of troubles and adventures; throughout, he attempts to keep writing poetry. At the same time, the novel introduces various characters in the colonial ruling elite of Macao, their uneasy relationships with each other and with European religious movements, and their harsh rule over the Chinese populace. The story also turns on the estranged, half-Chinese daughter of the colonial ruler and on a grueling and ultimately failed trip into the interior of China, until then unexplored by Europeans.

Then, a little more than half-way through the book, the 20th century radio operator is introduced. His back story reveals that he has always felt like an outsider because he and his family looked like the ancient Celts, not the contemporary Irish. He signs on to a ship headed for Macao and begins to hear signals over the radio that are coming not from other radio operators but from elsewhere. When the ship is attacked by pirates, he is captured and, with others from the ship, marched to the desert and left there to die. Somehow he begins to merge with the historic figure of Camões.

Slauerhoff is an excellent writer, and I was totally absorbed in the tale, even when I was mystified by it and even when it bordered on the melodramatic and romanticization of the exotic. In fact, the novel relies a lot on the romantic tradition, at the same time that is resolutely modern in its approach to what is in essence a kind of time travel and a search for identity. The forbidden kingdom is not only the interior of China but also cross-cultural merging and the poetic as compared to the "real".

In her helpful afterword to my Pushkin Press edition, Jane Fenhoulet mentions that Slauerhoff wrote a "sequel" that continues the story of the radio operator; I would definitely read it if it too is translated into English, as I found this novel fascinating and thought-provoking.

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The Mad and the Bad by Jean-Patrick Manchette
Originally published 1972; English translation 2014



I couldn't resist a book with this title (although it differs from the original French title, Ô dingos, Ô chateaux; according to my biggest French dictionary, a "dingo" is someone who's loony) even though I had mixed feelings about the other Manchette, also in an NYRB edition, that I read, Fatale. I ended up enjoying this one a lot more -- it's a fast-paced, satirical, chase and crime novel that can be more than a little gruesome at times.

The story involves a hired killer, Thompson, who has been given the assignment of kidnapping Peter, the nephew of a Hartog, a wealthy architect (who gained his wealth, and the nephew, when his brother and sister-in-law were killed in a crash) and his nanny, Julie, recently sprung from a low-key mental institution by Hartog. It soon emerges that kidnapping is not the only item on the agenda; Thompson and his henchmen are supposed to kill both Peter and Julie and make it look as though Julie killed Peter and then herself. Although he identity of the person who hired Thompson remains a mystery until the end of the novel, I have to say I figured it out almost at the beginning. However, this didn't interfere with my enjoyment of the novel as it is the cat-and-mouse game of the killers versus Peter and Julie and the high-speed, not always believable action (including murder, car theft, a battle in a department store, arson, and a strange "castle" high in a remote area) that kept me reading. The key characters are intriguingly developed and strangely fascinating. Parts of the book are even funny.

Manchette is said to be the French equivalent of Hammett and Chandler and other US noir writers and to write from a leftist perspective. The "battle" in the department store certainly parodies consumerism. The introduction to my NYRB edition suggests that Manchette "alludes to and parodies literary writers such as Baudelaire and Stendhal," but my familiarity with French literature is insufficient to be able to identify when he does this. All in all, this book should be read for its definitely violent fun.

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The Charterhouse of Parma by Stendhal
Originally published 1839; this translation 1999



Wow! I had no idea what a page-turner this book was, despite the blurb on my copy from The New Yorker that says ""An epic tale of war, love, sex, politics, and religion . . . an action-packed narrative." Actually, there is less of war, despite early vivid scenes at the Battle of Waterloo, and much more of love, sex, and politics. In some ways, perhaps surprisingly, it is the politics that is the most interesting.

The novel starts with Fabrizio del Dongo's largely unhappy childhood and his passion for joining Napoleon's army, and then settles down to following the ups and downs of his fortunes; under the guidance and political shenanigans of his aunt, "the Duchess," and her lover Count Mosca, "the Count," who is a minister to the Prince of Parma, he obtains a high-ranking religious position despite being almost completely unsuited for a religious life. The Duchess is in love with Fabrizio, but he is a young man who loves chasing women but has never felt love himself. In the course of following an actress he has been involved with, he ends up killing her lover, an actor, and thus has to flee Parma. Many many complications ensue and eventually he is captured by subterfuge and confined to a fortress where, despite the ever-growing risk that he will be killed, either by the law or by poison, lo and behold, he falls genuinely in love for the first time -- with the jailer's daughter who, needless to say, has been promised to a rich man. Many many more complications ensue.

While Fabrizio is the ostensible hero of this tale, he is a somewhat colorless young man, and the characters who really stand out are the Duchess and the Count and the other schemers of the court of the Prince of Parma. The depth and breadth of their scheming, and especially the Count's interactions with the prince and others, are an endless delight, and involve, among other aspects, the Count's getting the Duchess married to someone else (that's when she becomes the Duchess), blackmail, poisoning, spying, escape schemes, and sexual favors given and withheld. Despite being quite the 19th century soap opera, this novel does explore serious topics, including the politics of not yet unified Italy, the role of petty princes and the nobility, the corruption of the church, what makes people act the way they do, and somewhat snide comparisons of the Italians (passionate) with the French (practical and ironic). Another theme Stendhal explores is how people reinvent themselves, as Fabrizio runs through several names and identities in the course of the novel, as do various other characters. In places, Stendhal (or his narrator, for he was "told" this tale by some Italian), addresses the reader, a very modern touch. (For example, "I fear that Fabrizio's credulity will deprive him of the reader's sympathy; but after all, this is what he was like, why flatter him more than any other man?")

I have had one copy of this book on the TBR since 1973, but apparently I forgot that I owned it and bought a new translation in 2000; that is the one I read. It is a Modern Library edition that is enhanced by several illustrations, as well as by Balzac's review of the book, Stendhal's response, and a New York Times Book Review review of this translation. While Balzac was largely enthusiastic, he made some criticisms which I found very apt about the beginning and end of the book. All in all, I can't believe it's taken me over 40 years to read it!

The Charter House of Parma has been on my bookshelf for a long time, but certainly not 40 years! You encourage me to read it--for some reason I find it daunting.

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The Women's War by Alexandre Dumas
Originally published 1844; new English translation 2004



Intrigue, deception, romance, treachery, loyalty, bravery, hidden (and deliberately confused) identities -- although no book can match the totally wonderful The Count of Monte Cristo, in this novel Dumas does not disappoint the reader looking for fast-paced action and plot twists and turns (and some fascinating characters, as well).

The Women's War took place in the mid-17th century. After Louis XIII died, his widow, known as Anne of Austria for her place of birth, took over as regent for the still underage Louis XIV. Her rule was contested by the brother and cousin of Louis XIII, known collectively as the princes; they were imprisoned and the wife of the cousin, the Princesse de Condé, took over as the leader of the rebellion. Hence, the women's war. This war is historical fact, and Dumas read contemporary and historical works about it, but then, as Robin Buss details in the introduction to his new translation, published by Penguin Classics, he developed his own plot, introducing fictional characters as well as changing some of the roles of historical characters.

So there is also a women's war in the heart of the Baron de Canolles, who plays a major role in this novel (although not, apparently, in actual history), as he loves both Nanon de Lartigues, who is the mistress of one of the leaders of the Queen's cause, and Claire, who is a supporter of the princess. Another important character is the devilishly evil brother of Nanon, who chooses a variety of false identities over the course of the novel and who can be counted on (up to a crucial moment) to do the very thing that will cause the most problems.

I don't want to detail the plot because the way Dumas keeps its twists and turns going -- and the reader on the edge of her chair -- is too delightful. Suffice it to say that identity deception and confusion play major roles, as does the scheming of most of the characters. Dumas also describes vividly both the intensity of several sieges and attacks and the back-and-forth among the queen's and the princess's advisors (some of whom are historical characters). And there is a swashbuckling component as well. Although it petered out a little at the very end, this was a fun summer read!

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The Wild Ass's Skin by Honoré de Balzac
Originally published 1831; this translation 1977.



This is the first Balzac I've read that falls into his group of "philosophical studies" and although in some ways it differs from other novels of his I've read, in others it fits right in. At the start of the story, Raphael de Valentin, having lost his last gold piece in a gambling house, is ready to throw himself into the Seine but delays his plunge because he wants to do it at night. Wandering into an old antique shop to kill time, he finds himself entranced by the objects which take him on a trip around the world and across time. When he meets the 102-year-old owner, the owner offers him some words of advice about pursuing knowledge (savoir) rather than will (vouloir) or power (pouvoir); when Raphael spurns that advice, he offers him a magical skin of a wild ass (an onager) that will grant the wishes of its owner but shrink every time it does so and, in shrinking, sap the life and energy of the owner until the skin disappears and with that its owner will die. Although he urges Raphael not to take the skin, Raphael claims he wants to "live to excess," and wishes to take part in a wild dinner party "of royal splendor, a Bacchanalian feast," with witty fellow guests and "wild revelry." No sooner does he leave the antique store than he runs into a friend who invites him to just such a party!

The second part of the book involves Raphael telling his friend, Émile, when both are exceedingly drunk and the party-goers (all male) are surrounded by prostitutes, about his life up until this party. Although he grew up in a wealthy family, the family lost its wealth after his father died and Raphael decided to live an abstemious life and write, taking lodgings in a garret with a devoted landlady and her adoring daughter and writing a book about the will. After a time, he fell in with a friend who won a lot of money through gambling and who encourages Raphael to pursue a life in society, where he becomes obsessed with a "woman without a heart" (the title of the second section) who epitomizes society. At the end of this section, unthinkingly, he wishes for riches and, lo and behold, he finds he has inherited a huge amount of money from an uncle. In the final section, the magic skin has dwindled and Raphael's health is failing; he leaves no corner unturned (and no money unspent) in trying to find a way to stretch the skin. He also falls in love with a woman who loves him too.

Although I didn't like this book as much as some other Balzacs I've read (perhaps because I prefer realism to the magic skin, and perhaps because a lot of it felt claustrophobic), there were parts of this book that were wonderful, including the visit to the antique store, the description of the wild party, the visits to scientists in the final section (I imagine Balzac having a lot of fun making fun of them) and the visits of doctors to Raphael (ditto), and some descriptions of beautiful natural areas, also in the final part. The themes of the contrast between the material excesses of society and real love and nature, and of the need for will to be tempered by knowledge and self-control, are a little obvious, and the ending a tad melodramatic, but all in all I'm glad I read this book.

Villa Triste (1975) by Patrick Modiano (1945- )



So, I succumbed to vulgar curiosity about the latest Nobel laureate...

Villa Triste is a very French-film-voice-over sort of novel: full of ambiguities and unresolved hints, mournful in a vague sort of way, infatuated with the American chic of the Great Gatsby era, heavily laden with adjectives and visual description. We never learn the narrator's real name or what he is running away from, or even the name of the resort-town where he is hiding out (as far as the last two go, "conscription" and "Annecy" are strongly hinted at, but never confirmed). We know from the start that there's not going to be a happy ending, and indeed the narrator makes it clear that he doesn't know, and apparently hasn't made much effort to find out, how all the threads of the story came out.

What the book really seems to be about is the problem of how we are constrained in life by our origins. The narrator is someone whose background is clearly as romantically complicated as Modiano's own, and who would like nothing more than to come from somewhere and have a nice, safe, bourgeois family to escape from; Yvonne is the classic small-town girl who wants to be a big star but doesn't quite have the drive to get away from her provincial comfort-zone (think Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly); René is the effete gay man who has to deal with his father's reputation as a great war hero (even in 1975, Modiano could probably have got away with making him slightly less of a homophobic caricature).

Interesting, charming, beautifully written, but somehow it all feels incredibly old-fashioned. More 1920s than 1970s, really. Not what you would expect from someone who was taught geometry by Raymond Queneau.

Rue des boutiques obscures (Missing person, 1978) by Patrick Modiano (1945- )



For a second go at Modiano, I picked the novel that seems to be his best known work in English translation. I'm still not completely convinced, but I think I'm beginning to see what there is that might be interesting and worthwhile in his work.

Rue des boutiques obscures is a kind of detective story, with lots of Simenonish mid-20th century Paris atmosphere. An amnesiac private detective is trying to track down his own earlier life. Modiano is obviously a big fan of unanswered questions, so he never really tells us when the foreground story is set, but we are allowed to realise that the key events in the back-story took place during the German occupation. The main characters are all more-or-less from the generation of Modiano's parents, so we're probably somewhere in the late fifties, about twenty years before the book was written.

Of course, it turns out that every piece of information that our detective manages to discover about himself only raises more questions. The witnesses who could have given him the full story are either dead or have disappeared; his own memories, when they start to come back, are not entirely trustworthy; names and addresses turn out to be false; individual stories refuse to connect together into a closed narrative. If the past is another country, then as far as Modiano is concerned he will always be an illegal immigrant there. Obviously a lot of this is Modiano dealing with his own peculiar background, but it does also seem to be saying more general things about the - possibly misleading - ways in which memory and narrative work together.

FRANCE
High Bonnet by Idwal Jones



This delightful short novel about a young Frenchman setting out into culinary world kitchens of the restaurants of Paris was originally published in 1945. It had been out of print, though, for decades until 2001, when Modern Library brought it back as the first entry in their Modern Library Food Series. With its flashes of sly humor, enjoyable characterizations and, most importantly, extravagantly detailed descriptions of book the cooking and consumption of lavish, gourmet meals, this book, for me, was provided a sumptuous reading repast. Although the book is short in pages, it took me a bit longer than I expected to read through. That's mainly because the food descriptions are so lush and enjoyable that you end up slowing down to savor them, much as you would a good meal, which I think, maybe, was Jones' point. There's not much in the way of plot, here. It's more of a picaresque coming of age tale. It story takes place in the late 1920s/early 1930s. The ending, I though, was quite apt if somewhat sobering. At any rate, I highly recommend your searching this book out if you've an interest in the preparation and devouring of gourmet meals. Or if you just like descriptive writing. Or if you like to laugh.

Here's a serving of the writing style. An appetizer, if you will:

He served the Montepulciano. The aroma of it--a mellow, winy tapestry, woven patiently by six decades of time in some dark Apennine crypt--filled the room. We were not alone. History, art, and religion crowded in with the music of trumpets and gnawing horns. General Padiglione murmured as if in a prayer. The purple reflecting against his thin, marmoreal face colored it like a portrait in a church window. He drank reverently, in the minutest of sips. Pierre, in the silence, inaudibly slid before each guest a salad of cress lightly tumbled in oil.

"Wine is made to drink!" shouted Guido. "Pour it down!"

For the record, Jones was Welsh.

FRANCE

The Red and the Black by Stendhal
Originally published 1830; this translation 2003.



Based on a real story, this novel tells the tale of Julian Sorel from his origins as the son of an peasant to his travels up the social ladder to his eventual undoing, swinging between extreme romanticism and a healthy dose of social realism. Along the way, Stendhal is able to comment on behavior at various levels of society, the politics of the era, the role of the church, and much more, but it is Julian who is his greatest creation in this novel.

Realizing that Julian is smart, his abusive father sends him to school with the local priest, where he is on the road to become a priest himself (the "black" of the title). In a prodigious feat of memory, Julian memorizes the whole bible; this serves him in good stead when he is sent to be a tutor to the small town's mayor's children. Julian is at once phenomenally ambitious and phenomenally socially awkward; however, he picks up some social skills as he observes and learns from the environment he is thrust into. Issues of class are important, as Julian is in awe of Napoleon and knows a lot about his life, but also knows that approval of Napoleon is anathema to to anyone higher on the social scale. Soon, he begins a tortured affair with the wife of the mayor (although she is 30 to his 19 or so, she is "still pretty"), complete with romantic maneuvering in the garden and gaining access to her room by a ladder. Of course, in a small town there are no secrets, and soon rumors of the affair reach the husband, who is having political problems of his own, via an anonymous letter. Julian is quickly sent off to a seminary, where he struggles with religion, with his fellow students, with the priests in charge, and with his own feelings of pride for over a year.

Thanks to plots, counterplots, and church politics, Julian then finds himself traveling to Paris to become a secretary to a very rich man who has a country estate near the seminary, M. de la Mole. M. de la Mole quickly sends him to the tailor to get some new clothes, and then trains him to fulfill his needs, eventually even sending him on some dangerous missions relating to his royalist plotting (for me, these were the liveliest parts of the novel). As he lives with the de la Moles (as one step above a servant, he eats with them nightly), Julian realizes that the Parisian upper class leads a very boring life, ignoring anything that might be the least bit controversial. The de la Mole daughter, Mathilde, who is too smart for her own good, realizes this too and finds in Julian the answer to her boredom, coming as he does from a class way beneath hers but being highly intelligent and completely different from all the young aristocrats who flock around her. They begin an emotionally fraught affair (again involving ladders to the bedroom). Extreme complications occur, before the novel reaches its, for me, overly melodramatic end.

Although the plotting is complex, this is at its heart a psychological novel that largely explores Julian's tortured psyche. I wanted to like Julian more than I did, having a soft spot for someone who works his way up through his intelligence, and I could sympathize with his awkwardness at being thrust into unfamiliar social situations and always being conscious of how people were treating him, but he was such a cold person (even in his romantic obsessions) and his pride was so extreme, even to the point of getting in his way, that I really never warmed to him. Nonetheless, Stendhal's portrait of Julian is brilliant, as are his portraits of the two very different women who love him and M. de la Mole.

I'm glad I read The Charterhouse of Parma before I read this book; while it also contains brilliant portraits of fascinating characters, I found its political plotting (with romance) much livelier and more interesting than the romantic focus (with hints of political plotting) of Julian's story. I can also see why I couldn't get through this book when I tried to read it in my late teens or early 20s; I think I needed the perspective of time to be able to appreciate Stendhal's psychological depth.

FRANCE

Au bonheur des ogres (The Scapegoat, 1985) by Daniel Pennac (1944 - )

 

Daniel Pennac is a well-known French comic author who worked for a long time as a schoolteacher. He's written children's books, bandes dessinées, TV scripts, memoirs, etc., but he's most famous for the Malaussène Saga, of which this 1985 novel forms the first part.

The French title Au bonheur des ogres is, of course, a reference to Zola's famous department-store novel (see >59 rebeccanyc: above). The central character, Benjamin Malaussène, works in a big Paris department store, "Le Magasin", nominally as "controle technique" but in fact he is the person who is designated to be told off in the presence of dissatisfied customers for any mistakes the store makes: he is a professional scapegoat. Benjamin has an eccentric gay best friend; he lives in a quaint-but-development-threatened Paris neighbourhood with his enormous dog; in the flat under him is a large and anarchic collection of younger half-siblings to whom he stands in loco parentis, their mother being off somewhere taking steps to maintain the supply; the North African owner of the café on the corner acts as a sort of surrogate grandfather to them all. In short, he's so like the hero of a comic novel that he really couldn't be anything else (except possibly the hero of a comic film). But then there is a series of bomb explosions in the store, and it starts to look as though Benjamin is going to be the scapegoat for something rather more serious than a defective fridge.

I think this was the problem I had with the book to start with: it seemed to be a compilation of charming and funny details from the standard repertoire of the comic novelist rather than a coherent narrative you could engage with as a novel. It's done well, especially Pennac's cunning conversion of coarse, idiomatic street-French into witty literary language, but there seemed to be too great a gap between the comic elements and the serious crime story. This worked itself out eventually, but I felt uncomfortable with it in the first half of the book.

Being French, there are of course a whole string of allusions to high-literary crime fiction (Carlo Emilio Gadda, Jerome Charyn, etc.), and there's a postmodern element when the real story of events starts to get mixed up with the serial bedtime story Benjamin is creating out of it for his smaller siblings. I'm not sure if I'll go on with this series, but it was an entertaining light read.

FRANCE

The Chouans by Honoré de Balzac
Originally published 1829; this English translation 1972



The first book Balzac wrote under his own name, and the first to be in his famed Human Comedy, this novel is at once historical, romantic, and melodramatic. It takes place in Brittany in 1799, just after Napoleon has taken power, at the time of a royalist, anti-revolutionary uprising. I got this book, which appears to be out of print, because someone (can't remember who) recommended it to me after I read Ninety Three by Victor Hugo.

The plot pits the daughter of a duke who has taken up the cause of the republic against a marquis who has returned, somewhat incognito, from exile to lead the royalist rebellion and his supposed mother, a real zealot for the cause. But the real interest of the story lies not in the on-again, off-again romance of the marquis and the duke's daughter, but in the characters Balzac so vividly creates and the portrait of the time and the place: the republic's military leaders, the peasant fighters of Brittany, the abandoned estates, the snobbery and viciousness of the royalist supporters, the harshness of the landscape, the spies, the treachery and deceit, the interconnections among the characters, and of course the horrors of war.

I didn't find this book as exciting as Ninety Three, and I found the ending overly melodramatic but, as always, i enjoyed being in Balzac's world.

BELGIUM

Villette by Charlotte Bronte

Although this character-driven novel begins in England, within a few chapters the protagonist, Lucy Snowe, has moved to Villette (Belgium) in an effort to find employment. She is very lucky to be accepted as a governess to the owner of a boarding school, who shortly changes her employment to teacher of English. This book is rich in characters (including Madame Beck, who is worthy of Dickens), has some gothic flair occasionally, and is very engaging overall. However, Bronte liberally manipulates the reader by keeping certain facts from them which should have come out earlier. Nevertheless, I was fully involved throughout and enjoyed the ride.

cross posted from my Club Read 2016 thread:
FRANCE



The Fortune of the Rougons by Emile Zola translated from the French by Brian Nelson
first published in serial form in La Siècle as La Fortune des Rougon from June to August 1870 and in March 1871

The Fortune of the Rougons is the first book in Emile Zola's chronicle of the Rougon and Macquart families. While Zola planned at the outset to write more than one book, "several episodes", he probably didn't anticipate that he would write twenty of them over the next twenty-two years. His aim was ... to explain how a family, a small group of human beings, behaves in a given society... He wanted to solve "the dual problem of temperament and environment". In his preface to this first volume, he says that he had already been working for three years on the background material for his books.

Zola wanted to tie together two of the great studies of the nineteenth century: that of heredity as a determinant of character, and that of the rise through the class system, "... the essentially modern impulse that sets the lower classes marching through the social system." As if these two huge areas of interest weren't enough, he also wanted what he called "the dramas of their individual lives" to be a social, military and economic history of the Second Empire.

Zola tells us at the outset

The great characteristic of the Rougon - Macquarts, the group or family I propose to study, is their ravenous appetites, the great upsurge of our age as it rushes to satisfy those appetites.

Who then were these people? They were the descendants of Adélaide Fouque, a respectable enough girl, the last in a line of prosperous market gardeners. However, Adélaide's father died insane and when she began to exhibit odd behaviour, the neighbours started to talk. When she married the hired peasant Rougon, the neighbours were shocked. Zola spends a lot of time writing about the small minds of many, the craving for gossip, the inevitable exaggerations and misrepresentations of any situation.

Deprived of an excuse for gossip when more than a year went by before the Rougons' son Pierre was born, the neighbours were ecstatic when Rougon died suddenly and Adélaide took as a lover "that beggar Macquart". The two never married, but had two children, Ursule and Antoine, whom Macquart acknowledged and gave his name.

It is the story of these three children and some of their offspring that constitutes the first novel. Necessarily, a lot of time is spent building up their individual backgrounds, for they will be the foundation of the books and characters to come. At times this exercise of outlining three generations of the family makes it difficult to realize that most of the actual action of this particular novel takes place in one month, December 1851. This action is the republican struggle against Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte, who had dissolved the National Assembly on the second of the month in as effort to restore the Empire with himself as Emperor, a feat he would accomplish the next year.

We see the townspeople of Plassans (Aix), terrified of choosing the wrong side in this struggle, of losing their possessions and livelihoods, and what status they have. There are lies and double crosses, bribery and manipulation, as the town is forced to choose a course. Zola's depictions of veniality and self preservation are superb. His science seems dated today, but his descriptions still hold. Pierre's son Pascal, a physician with no interest in politics whatsoever, spent a few evenings in his parents' sitting room, observing those who were plotting for gain, financial and social:

On his first visit he was stupefied at the degree of imbecility to which sane men can sink.... He looked, with the fascination of a naturalist, at their grimacing faces, in which he discerned traces of their occupations and appetites; and he listened to their inane chatter as he might have tried to divine the meaning of a cat's miaow or a dog's bark. At his time he was greatly preoccupied with comparative natural history... He noted the similarities between the grotesque creatures he saw and the animals he knew.

There were idealists in Plassans too. Even here though, Zola sets them under his microscope. The young apprentice Silvère, Pierre's nephew, who was caught up in the peasant resistance to Bonaparte's forces, is portrayed as having a nervous disturbance, "Hysteria or excitement, shameful madness or sublime madness. Always those terrible nerves", when he became inspired by Rousseau's writings and dreamt of a Republic. Silvère and his girlfriend Miette are innocents and their love story is sympathetically detailed, but their naiveté is in itself a shameful taint.

It may have taken some time to get going, but by the end of this first volume, Zola has given us a solid ground for the novels to come, drawn us in with a love story, and left us wondering what the next move will be. A skilled writer indeed.

(Cross-posted from CR)

Les Années (2008) by Annie Ernaux (France, 1940 - )

 

Sauver quelque chose du temps où l'on ne sera plus jamais

Annie Ernaux has published a string of mainly autobiographical works since the early seventies. La place (1984), a book about her relationship with her father, seems to be the best-known in English. In her day-job she taught literature in the French school system until her retirement.

Les Années is a very interesting attempt to mix the forms of memoir and social history to create a kind of depersonalised autobiography which is at the same time a history of living in France from the 1940s to the early 21st century - from de Gaulle to Sarko. She writes about herself in the third person ("elle", not "je") and avoids the perfect tense as far as possible to insist on the generality of the experiences she is describing. She isn't trying to rewrite Proust: "La recherche du temps perdu passait par le web", she notes ironically when discussing the first years of the new century. But the book does take concrete artefacts, in particular photographs of herself, as stimulants of memory.

The viewpoint is detached, none of the characters in the story is named, but she doesn't try to step entirely outside her own experience: she is explicitly writing as a woman born in the 1940s, coming from a provincial, working-class background, and spending her working life in an intellectual, left-leaning environment. The text is full of references to products, films, books, songs, political and cultural events, causes, technological change, and all the other markers that we use to place ourselves in history, but it becomes vague and allusive when it is talking about personal life. Births and deaths happen offstage, love affairs are commented on mostly in retrospect (Ernaux has written in detail about all these things elsewhere, of course).

Obviously you miss some of the fine detail of this if you haven't actually lived in France during the decades she is describing (I've probably seen about 1/10 of the films she mentions and heard of about half of the politicians and musicians...), but that isn't really important: it's a book that makes you think about history and memory and the way the two work together in literature, and that's always an interesting and worthwhile exercise. And it manages to look at nearly seventy years of social and political change without becoming morose and pessimistic. The tone is always pleasantly ironic, never overcome by events, but never so detached that it refuses to take a moral stand. Very nicely done!

Another cross-post from CR:

FRANCE (& SPAIN)

Pas pleurer (2014) by Lydie Salvayre (France, Spain, 1948- )

 

Lydie Salvayre is a psychiatrist and novelist who grew up as the child of Spanish parents in a civil war exile community in the south of France. Her best-known novel in translation is La Compagnie des spectres (The company of ghosts, 1997). She was awarded the prestigious Prix Goncourt in 2014 for her most recent novel, Pas Pleurer.

Pas Pleurer brings together two contrasting sets of memories of the opening months of the Spanish Civil War: the author's mother, Montse, a teenage girl from a repressed peasant background who briefly gets to experience the excitement of the anarchist Revolution in Barcelona and finds her horizons shifted irrevocably; and the right-wing, Catholic writer Georges Bernanos, observing the rise of the Nationalists in Majorca and horrified by the - church-supported - violence he sees. The author reproduces Montse's vivid account of her experiences mostly as a first-person account, with occasional affectionate and exasperated editorial comments on her mother's appalling mixture of French and Spanish (and clinical reflections on how it is that her mother remembers these things so clearly 75 years on, when so much else has faded). Montse's narrative alternates with a running commentary on the author's experience of reading Bernanos's 1938 book about the nationalist atrocities in Majorca, Les grands cimetières sous la lune.

This all sounds like a rather awkward premise for a novel, but it actually comes together very well. Montse's voice is quite something, and the "fragnol" is used in carefully dosed ways - always characteristically individual, never a simple caricature. (Readers who don't know any Spanish might struggle a bit, but you probably don't need much.) The contrast with the much more measured and analytical language of Bernanos is used to bring out parallels in the ways that violence and hate lurk below the surface of our communities: the Le Pen clan is never actually mentioned, but we're clearly supposed to be drawing parallels to those who exploit the rise of similar fears and turn them into hatreds in our own time as well. A thoughtful, rewarding and entertaining book, and one that also brought back quite a few memories for me of stories I've heard from older family members (no fragnol in our background, but plenty of other interesting combinations...).

I read my way to France, during and just after World War I, via Dos Passos' second novel, Three Soldiers. First published in 1921, this book still packs a punch. Three Soldiers is about the absurdities and terrors experienced by American enlisted men during World War I in France. But even more, it is about the tedium, frustration and humiliations of military life in general, at least as experienced among the ranks. The grimness of the narrative is mitigated by Dos Passos' obvious affection for his characters, and by his often joyous physical descriptions of Paris and the French countryside, and the life to be found there. So while primarily a strong anti-war novel, Dos Passos has also provided here a love letter to Paris in particular and France in general.

>63 rebeccanyc: I love maupassant's work. Many of the ones you mention bring back fond memories, in particular, "Butterball" (Boule de Soif); "The Horla"; and "Mademoiselle Fifi".

>88 thorold: Daniel Pennac's work came to my attention a few years ago when I spotted, "Fairy Gunmother". The premise amused me and I bought the book. Of course, having bought the book I did a little research and discovered "Au Bonheur Des Ogres", with the English title of, "The Scapegoat", preceded it. Being a bit of a stickler that way, I acquired and read "The Scapegoat". The department store in the book put me in mind of La Samaritaine which immediately put the book in a good light for me.

I then went on to read "The Fairy Gunmother", and "Wirte to Kill". The Fairy Gunmother was a good read and a great insight into the life of life in Paris for people of North African descent. "Wirte to Kill" was reasonable but I thought the saga was wearing a bit thin.

If you have not read Pennac's, "The Dictator and the Hammock", you have a treat in store for you. It is very Brechtian and Pennac does some wonderful playing with the reader's mind by fudging the boundaries between fiction and reality, and posses questions about the writing of fiction that are thought provoking and have relevance to one's everyday life. I would recommend it.

cross posted from my Club Read thread

FRANCE



The Dream by Emile Zola translated from the French by Andrew Brown
first published as La Rêve in 1888

The Dream starts like a Hans Christian Andersen tale. It was Christmas Day, 1860, and a nine year old girl was freezing to death on the stone steps of a grand twelfth century cathedral, while snow fell all around her. Above her, the statue of another young girl, Saint Agnes, kept watch, surrounded by the images of the virgin saints who had escorted her to Heaven and Christ. The young girl was rescued and adopted by a childless couple, the Huberts, embroiderers of ecclesiastic robes and soft furnishings. The child's name was Angélique.

This is Zola --- the depicter of vice and sin, greed and lust? He had indeed accomplished his goal of writing "a book nobody expects from me".

All went well. At first the young girl seemed wild and untamed, but gradually she responded to the Huberts. Now the book began to seem more like Zola, a classic study of environment versus heredity, especially when the child's parentage is revealed. Angélique led a cloistered life in the ancient house attached to the church. There was a garden to enjoy, but it was enclosed by church buildings.

Angélique did retain a certain stubborn streak. She was obsessed by the stories in The Golden Legend, a fifteenth century telling of the lives and deaths of the saints. She dwelt on their stories, their tortures, taking them to heart, immersed in the iconography of the book. "So many abominations, and the joy of triumph, filled her with rapturous pleasure, more than any reality could." Zola details for page after page summaries of what Angélique was reading, suggesting a certain naiveté in the child, and encouraging scepticism and disbelief in the reader, while introducing the idea of martyrdom as a misplaced eroticism.

... death is an occasion for joy, and they defy it; relatives rejoice when one of their family succumbs. On Mount Ararat , ten thousand crucified martyrs expire. Near Cologne, eleven thousand virgins are massacred by the Huns. In the circuses, bones are crunched up by the teeth of wild beasts. ... Children at the breast hurl insults at their executioners. Disdain and disgust for the flesh, for the rags and tatters of the human body, sharpens the pain with a celestial thrill of pleasure. Let them tear that flesh, let them mangle it, let them burn it: all is well; again and again; never can it suffer agony often enough; and they all call out for the blade of iron, for the sword thrust through the throat that alone will kill them.

Saint Agnes was her favourite. She became a constant in Angélique's mind, as the child was convinced the saint was beside her always and knew her every move and thought. How could she risk committing a sin and disappointing such a guardian?

Angélique also loved stories of kings and queens, of battles and empires. She absorbed Norman history. She decided

... what I would like, what I would like, would be to marry a prince... A prince I'd never seen, who would come along one evening as dusk fell, to take me by the hand and lead me to his palace... And what I would like would be for him to be very handsome, very rich --- oh! --- the handsomest and richest who has ever walked the face of this earth. I'd like to hear horses whinnying beneath my windows, feel cascades of precious stones pouring across my knees, and gold, a shower of gold, a flood of gold, falling from my two hands as soon as I opened them... And what I'd also like would be for my prince to love me madly, so that I in turn could love him like crazy. We would be very young, very pure and very noble, for ever, for ever!

Reproached by her parents, the innocent child replies ... you'd soon see what I would do with the money, if I had a lot. It would rain down on the town, it would stream into the houses of the poor. It would be a real blessing: no more poverty!

Young princes are scarce on the ground though; more so when the young girl hoping for one works with her hands. At fifteen, Angélique fell in love with Félicien, a maker of stained glass windows. However, there is still a sense of religious ecstasy and mystery:

He emerged from the unknown, from the tremulous life of things, from the murmuring voices, from night's shifting shadows, from all that had enfolded her and made her feel so faint... He was escorted by the entire populace of the Legend , the male saints whose rods burst into flower, the female saints whose wounds wept milk. And the virgins soaring aloft all pure and white outshone the stars.

And so the undefined eroticism that Angélique had felt in her religious fervors had found an object. The young girl struggled to reconcile desire and spirit. Angélique is so believable in so many ways, that the strength of her faith seems natural. Zola knew just when to ground her and the reader, by supplying the background to her life: the daily work with its high levels of skill, concentration and artistry: the physical surroundings, even the washing of the laundry in the river. These details are needed for otherwise the reader might just float out the window of Angélique's pure white bedroom into the mystery of the garden below. Like Angélique in her room, the reader is torn between dreams and reality. This dilemma is played out to a conclusion only someone with the mastery of Zola would dare attempt; Zola, who tells his readers, "All is but a dream."

__________________________
The Dream is an odd book to read following the pace and frenzy of Zola's The Kill and Money. However, several sources list it as following those two in the suggested reading order for Zola's Rougon Macquart series. There is almost nothing in the plot to connect it to that series; it could easily stand on its own.

This translation, like the other Zola novels I have read, is based on the Henri Mitterand 1986 editions. It is one of two 2005 translations, neither published by Oxford, the publisher I've been reading to date for the supplementary material. This edition did have some notes but not as comprehensive.

I keep forgetting these regional threads exist, but they are useful as a reference, so here's a quick list of relevant books from 2017:

Q1 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/243644 and the Benelux Theme Read http://www.librarything.com/topic/245366):
L'ombre chinoise (1932) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - Maigret chases a shadow
Contrapunt (2008) by Anna Enquist (Netherlands, 1945- ) - Goldberg novel
Planet Luxemburg: und andere komische Geschichten. (2012) by Francis Kirps (Luxembourg, 1971- ) - Comic essays
Spijkerschrift : notities van Aga Akbar (2000) by Kader Abdolah (Netherlands, Iran, 1954- ) - refugee remembers his father
Het verdriet van België roman (1983) by Hugo Claus (Belgium, 1929-2008) - Flemish backstabbing
Siegfried een zwarte idylle (2001) by Harry Mulisch (Netherlands, 1927-2010) - Baby Hitler?
Kaas (1933) by Willem Elsschot (Belgium, 1882-1960) - 20 tons of Edam come to Antwerp
Zomerhitte (2005) by Jan Wolkers (Netherlands, 1925-2007) - sex on the beach
Er is geen vrijheid in de zandwoestijn (Dutch Edition) (2009) by Gerrit Komrij (Netherlands, 1944-2012) - poetry
Verwoest Arcadië (1980) by Gerrit Komrij (Netherlands, 1944-2012) - poet's memoir
Makkelijk leven (2017) by Herman Koch (Netherlands, 1953- ) - bestselling author makes up some nonsense for Boekenweek
Op weg naar het einde (1963) by Gerard Reve (Netherlands, 1923-2006) - first of Reve's grown-up books

Q2 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/254171):
La place (1983) by Annie Ernaux‬ (France, 1940- ) - middle-class daughter on her working-class dad
Les dames de France (1977) by Angelo Rinaldi (France, 1940- ) - LGBT frolic in Corsica
Fièvre au Marais, roman (1958) by Léo Malet (France, 1909-1996) - 50s Crime
La pipe de Maigret (1947) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - Crime, Maigret short
La disparition (1992) by Georges Perec (France, 1936-1982) - missing vowels round
Mythologies (1957) by Roland Barthes (France, 1915-1980) - tennis, Citroën DS, Tour de France, ...
La septìème fonction du langage : roman (2015) by Laurent Binet (France, 1972- ) - who killed Roland Barthes?
Les solidarités mystérieuses roman (2011) by Pascal Quignard (France, 1948- ) - Breton fog
La fée carabine (1987) by Daniel Pennac‬ (France, 1944- ) - beware of little old ladies
Parle-leur de batailles, de rois et d'éléphants (2010) by Mathias Enard‬ (France, 1972- ) - Michelangelo in Istanbul (for actual elephants, see Elif Shafak)
De brug (2007) by Geert Mak (Netherlands, 1946- ) - bridges in Istanbul. No elephants.

Q3 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/260777):
‪Le Plaisir du texte‪ (1973) by Roland Barthes (France, 1915-1980) - lit crit with sticky pages
‪Petite philosophie du vélo‪ (2008) by Bernard Chambaz‬ (France, 1949- ) - Plato and Kant on the Mont Ventoux
‪La petite marchande de prose‪ (1989) by Daniel Pennac‬ (France, 1944- ) - bestselling author slaughters stand-in
‪Land in zee : de watergeschiedenis van Nederland‪ (2007) by Wilfried ten Brinke‬ (Netherlands, - ) - or why we don't have wet feet in Holland
‪Mémoire de fille‪ (2016) by Annie Ernaux‬ (France, 1940- ) - you always remember the first time (v2.0)
‪Le club des incorrigibles optimistes: roman‪ (2009) by Jean-Michel Guenassia‬ (FranceAlgeria, 1950- ) - don't play chess with Russians

Q4 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/270490):
‪Boussole‪ (2015) by Mathias Enard‬ (France, 1972- ) - in defence of orientalism
‪Le port des brumes‪ (1932) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - who killed the harbourmaster?
‪Journal du dehors‪ (1993) by Annie Ernaux‬ (France, 1940- ) - short notes on anything and everything
Ce qu'ils disent ou rien (1977) by Annie Ernaux‬ (France, 1940- ) - you always remember the first time (v1.0)
Les nouvelles enquêtes de Maigret (1944) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - first Maigret short story collection

My latest read, In Farleigh Field takes place mostly in England, but also in France, hence I'm listing it here. This was the story of Lord Westerham's family, including 5 daughters who live in Kent in 1941. The story begins when a dead parachuted soldier is found in Farleigh Field with no identification tags, but he does have on his person a picture of a historical nature with a series of numbers written on the bottom. London is being bombed and several residents of Kent work for MI-5 or at Bletchley Park, a code breaking facility. Part of the book took place in Nazi occupied France where one of Lord Westerham's daughters was working as an agent for the French Resistance.

As a history teacher/professor of 35+ years I usually don't find out a lot of new information in a novel read; but this provided new food for fodder! I was unaware that the recently abdicated Edward VIII, spent the war as the Gov. General of the Bahamas and was considered a risk to England because he had visited Hitler multiples times before the war broke out. It was surmised that he was a Nazi sympathizer. This bit of info has now led me off on a tangent to learn more about Edward VIII.

This was my first Rhys Bowen book. Bowen is British and she was recommended to me and I did find the book interesting and an easy read. That being said, the writing was average and the story line was also just average. 379 pages 3 1/2 stars

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. Madame Bovary was a slog and a bore. It is the ageless, timeless story of a woman who is seeking fulfillment in "love." She has romanticized love and will never be happy. Emma tries multiple affairs and spending large amounts of money to make her happy, but no cigar. This was scandalous when it came out in 1856 but would be mild today. Since the story line was blase I looked for great prose; but found little. 384 pages 2 1/2 stars On the 1001 BYMRBYD

Read my first Patrick Modiano novel last week. I finished Honeymoon, Modiano's beautiful reverie about memory, melancholy and regret. I very much enjoyed the writing and the dreamlike quality of the storytelling.

FRANCE

Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux was a Gothic tale centering around the ghost of the Paris Opera House, Eric (as they call him). I have seen the musical twice and much prefer it over the book not because of the scenery, the costumes, or the music, but because of the tale, or the lack of it. The book is very very detailed and we have a nice little wrapped up package in the end, where everybody ends up "happy", even Eric; who finds another opera house. I much prefer the "unknown" of the musical. The book also seemed to drag for about 4-5 chapters when telling about the dungeon. I read this and listened to it on audio while driving. The audio was very well done. A good read; not a great read. 320 pages 3 1/2 stars.

HOLLAND

The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish. A breathtaking poetic journey of Jewish life in 17th century Amsterdam and London. Many Jewish families had fled the inquisition in Portugal and found it not much better in Amsterdam so hence another move to London. The book is two alternating narratives, one of Ester the Jewess in Amsterdam (most of the book) during the 17th century and one of Helen, the academic in London at the beginning of the 21st century. The prose in this book is magnificent; almost like poetry. The narratives flow without any confusion whatsoever. 592 pages 5 stars

Dangerous Liaisons by Pierre Choderlos de Lacios. It is difficult to know where to begin with this review. A convoluted story, told in epistolary form, of sex and revenge in 18th century France. It is the story of two people's malicious games that they play and it how it affects the innocent. The Vicomte de Valmont and the Marquise de Merteuil make a bet: if the Vicomte can seduce the married Madame de Tourvel, then the Marquise will sleep with him. Along the way each sleep with numerous others by design and for the purpose of hurt. There is even the rape of a 15 year old girl; although French society doesn’t see it as such at the time. The just (?) desserts at the end, where they turn on each other, is the best part! This book is 448 pages long, about 200 more than necessary to tell this story! 2 ½ stars

Wow, I see that I really do need to read more globally! Many of my reads are from Europe. Young Henry of Navarre One of the most fascinating and historically accurate works of fiction that I have read. My only complaint is that there is not an emotional layer; it's hard to connect with Henry. I cheered him on in battle and would liked to have felt his grief over the death of his mother or lamented over one of his lost loves; but the author did not permit this. This story follows Henry from a young boy to the death of the Valois line and the beginning of the Bourbon dynasty. I will definitely read the sequel. Interesting that the author was German, brother to famous author Thomas Mann. 585 pages 5 stars

The Detour, Gerbrand Bakker, 2010, translated from Dutch by David Comer tHE NETHERLANDS


Cover comments: I think this is pretty awesome

Comments: A Dutch woman retreats to an isolated farm house in Wales with only hints as to why. Did she ruin her marriage and career? Is she just working on her academic paper? Is she ill?

This is a highly atmospheric book, and for most of it I enjoyed it very much. But somehow by the end I started wondering what the point of the whole thing was.

Why I Read This Now: I tend to read a lot of British books, and I was in the mood to read something from another part of Europe, so I picked up this book from a Dutch author. Ha ha jokes on me -- it was set in Britain.

Rating: for most of the book I thought it was 4 - 4.5 stars, but in the end I gave it 3.5. This is low compared to most reader ratings.

Recommended for: people who like quiet novels.

The Perfect Nanny, Leila Slimani, translated from French, 2017 FRANCE


Cover comments: Pretty good, I guess. The nanny is described as wearing a peter pan collar several times, so it gets that right. Also, I think the faceless torso helps to add to the mystery suggested in the title (although this is only the North American title--I believe the British publish this as Lullaby, which is a direct translation of the original French).

Comments: I finished this book a week ago but LT was down and then I got busy and forgot I hadn't added it here, so I hope I remember what I wanted to say.

As most reviews point out, right from the first paragraph we know that the children die, and so this is not a who-done-it but a why-done-it. But even without reading that first page, just picking up the book in Costco and reading the title, I knew that this was a book about a nanny who was NOT perfect. There is no novel in a story about a perfect nanny, if such a person even existed. I was intrigued -- how was she not perfect? What happens?

A couple with two small children, living in a cramped apartment in Paris, need to hire a nanny when the mother decides to go back to work. They feel very lucky to find Louise, who at first makes their life easy. But Louse has struggles of her own, and things take a strange and dark turn. The scene with the chicken carcass is one of the more chilling scenes I've read in quite a while.

Why I Read This Now?: I'm struggling through two other books, and when I get to a certain point, I reward myself by reading something that isn't a struggle (See Gorsky, above). I needed a compelling, interesting book and this one scratched that itch.

Recommended for: finding this at Costco tellls me that it's expected to appeal to a broad audience, even though I'd never head of it. The cover blurb compares it to Gone Girl, which I've not read, and Gone Girl fans seem to dislike this book. So if you hated Gone Girl, maybe you'll like The Perfect Nanny.

Also recommended for people who like character studies, and people who like books set in Paris.

Leila Slimani is a Moroccan immigrant, now living in France and married to a Frenchman. The Perfect Nanny won the Prix Goncourt, France's most prestigious literary prize).

Rating: 4 stars, maybe a bit more.

Seeing Nickelini’s recent posts reminded me again that these threads exist… Here's a quick catch-up list of relevant books from 2018:

Q1 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/278102):
La Fortune des Rougon (1871) by Emile Zola (France, 1840-1902) - Zolathon (1)
La Curée (1871) by Emile Zola (France, 1840-1902) - Zolathon (2)
Het meesterstuk (1994) by Anna Enquist (Netherlands, 1945- ) - grand guignol in the art gallery
Gezien de feiten (2018) by Griet Op de Beeck (Belgium, 1973- ) - this year's Boekenweek gift
Aimez-vous Brahms... (1959) by Françoise Sagan (France, 1935-2004) - change the record!
Passage à l'ennemie (2003) by Lydie Salvayre (France, 1948- ) - undercover cop prefers pot-smoking to report-writing
HHhH (2009) by Laurent Binet (France, 1972- ) - non-fiction novel about Heydrich
La Honte (1997) by Annie Ernaux‬ (France, 1940- ) - unhappy memories
Quand sort la recluse (2017) by Fred Vargas (France, 1957- ) - the latest Adamsberg: not for arachnophobes

Q2 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/289441:
De eerste wandelaar: in de voetsporen van een wandelende dominee (2017) by Flip van Doorn (Netherlands, 1967- ) - modern walker's take on 19th century walking writer
Le ventre de Paris (1873) by Emile Zola (France, 1840-1902) - Zolathon (3)
Retour à Reims : Une théorie du sujet (2009) by Didier Eribon (France, 1953- ) - gay prof with Le-Pen-voting mum

Q3 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/293138):
Pieterpad: wandelroute van Pieterburen in Groningen naar de Sint-Pietersberg bij Maastricht v.v: Deel I Pieterburen-Vorden (2015) by Toos Goorhuis-Tjalsma (Netherlands, 1915-2004)
Pieterpad: wandelroute van Pieterburen in Groningen naar de Sint-Pietersberg bij Maastricht v.v: Deel II: Vorden-Maastricht (2016) by Toos Goorhuis-Tjalsma (Netherlands, 1915-2004) - as far as it's possible to walk in the Netherlands in a relatively straight line
Les caves du Majestic (1942) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - Maigret in the hotel trade
La Conquête de Plassans (1874) by Emile Zola (France, 1840-1902) - Zolathon (4)
Compartiment tueurs (1962) by Sébastien Japrisot (France, 1931-2003) - last of the trenchcoat thrillers?
La faute de l'abbé Mouret (1875) by Emile Zola (France, 1840-1902) - Zolathon (5)
Illusions perdues (1843) by Honoré de Balzac (France, 1799-1850) - how not to succeed as a writer
La maison du juge (1942) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - Maigret at the seaside again
De Rijn: biografie van een rivier (2017) by Martin Hendriksma (Netherlands, 1966- ) - essays on a fairly important river

Q4 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/296979):
The Dutch republic : its rise, greatness, and fall, 1477-1806 (1995) by Jonathan I. Israel (UK, 1946- ) - weightlifting practice
La mort d'Auguste (1966) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - non-Maigret in the restaurant business
Son Excellence Eugène Rougon (1876) by Emile Zola (France, 1840-1902) - Zolathon (6)
Cécile est morte (1942) by Georges Simenon (France, 1903-1989) - Maigret
Un brillant avenir (2008) by Catherine Cusset (France, 1963- ) - mother-in-law from Hell Romania
Pantagruel (1532) by François Rabelais (France, 1483-1553) - renaissance fart-jokes
Vie de David Hockney (2018) by Catherine Cusset (France, 1963- ) - fictionalised biography
Arab Jazz (2012) by Karim Miské (France, 1964- ) - multi-culti crime novel
Kélilé en Demné (2002) by Kader Abdolah (Netherlands, Iran, 1954- ) - retold Persian fables

French-Switzerland

Yes, I know that Switzerland is a different category here, but it's lumped in with German-speaking countries, and this book was written in French, and takes place in an invented city, so French readers might like to read it in the original language.

Ring, Elisabeth Horem, 1994, translated from French by Jane Kuntz, 2013

((for some reason the cover isn't loading here--I'll try again later))
cover comments: This sparse cover suits this book perfectly; also, the white & red spare aesthetic is tres Swiss

Comments: On the first page of the Ring, Quentin's girlfriend announces that she's moving to America with his brother. In a classic "you can't break up with me because I'm breaking up with you" move, Quentin blurts out that that's fine, because he's moving to Tahis anyway. He had no such plan, of course, but had just that morning read an interesting job ad for a position in Tahis. With no prospects in his un-named town in Europe, he applies for and is accepted for the job in Tahis. So off he goes, three time zones east of Western Europe, in a foreign desert country. (From what I can tell, the author invented the city of Tahis. Please tell me if I'm wrong).

In Tahis, he quickly changes jobs and begins work for a consulate issuing visas. All the ex-pats live on the Ring, in the centre of town. Outside of the Ring sprawls the slums of everyone else. Ensconced in the stifling world of the Ring, Quentin is drawn to life outside of it. In short blurb on the back cover, L'Hebdo mentions the "desolation" in this book, which is fitting.

Later in this short novel, and in a bookend to his break up with his girlfriend, Quentin stomps into work with plans to quit, but before he can, he's told he's fired. You can't quit, we're firing you.

Rating: a solid 4 stars

Recommended for: Not sure. This was short, very readable, very odd.

Why I Read This Now: I'm on a hunt for Swiss literature. This was published as part of the Dalkey Archive Swiss Literature Series. I thought it sounded interesting. The Dalkey Archive doesn't make this clear to me why they included this though -- in the author blurb I learn that Elisabeth Horem was born in Bourges, France and lived in the Middle East with her husband, a Swiss diplomat. My Swiss score: 2 out of 3. -- 1) Woman writer: check. 2) New literature: Written in 1994, translated in 2013: sure, check. 3) Set in Switzerland: nope.

Seeing the Zola mention in #109--it's been a while but I have read all the Rougon MacQuart books though not in order. The first one I read was Germinal and my favorite was The Earth. Some of them I didn't care for at all but generally most of them were pretty good and a few of them excellent to outstanding.

The Netherlands Von alten Menschen, den Dingen, die vorübergehen by Louis Couperus

I thought I'd mention this here because the author is well-known in the Netherlands. This is an interesting look at a family whose members have spent their lives as administrators in the colonies, and the three living members of the eldest generation are hiding a secret they believe will die with them, but of course most of the younger people know or guess. They are curiously isolated in their life in Den Haag, always visiting among themselves, but with little contact to "non-Indians". Most of them are amazingly old and it is much about the experience of growing old, remembering and being haunted by the past.

And speaking of Louis Couperus, another marvelous work of his that is well worth the time, is The Hidden Force, a marvelous study of the Dutch experience in Java (or the Dutch East Indies).

>113 Gypsy_Boy: Noted. Thanks!

Belgium Der Flachsacker by Stijn Streuvels

This is about farming in the Schelde valley and has lots and lots of gorgeous descriptions of the landscape.

>115 MissWatson: Wonderful author!

Streuvels is terribly overlooked today and sadly, only two of his many works are available in English--neither of which is in print. A stunning writer. Thanks for adding him!

<116 I am very glad I found this and will keep looking for more.

>115 MissWatson: >116 Gypsy_Boy: How readable is he in Dutch? I saw one of the reviews complains that he's almost unintelligible to a modern reader, even from a West-Flanders background — is that an exaggeration?

>118 thorold: My edition had an afterword which discusses his use of regional dialect, and it would appear that it would be difficult to follow, as many of the words are rare and he even made some up.

ETA: Van der Zanden compares it to the relationship between High German and Schwyzerdütsch. He says the German Swiss can read and understand High German, but prefer to talk in their maternal dialects, and the distance between Standard Dutch and Streuvels' version of Flemish is similar.

>118 thorold: I'm afraid I cannot help you. I can't read Dutch or Flemish or any variants; I've only read him in English and loved both books that I read....

FRANCE

At Night All Blood Is Black by David Diop, translated by Anna Moschovakis

Winner, 2021 International Booker Prize



"Temporary madness makes it possible to forget the truth about bullets. Temporary madness, in war, is bravery's sister."

"But when you mean crazy all the time, continuously, without stopping, that's when you make people afraid, even your war brothers. Ant that's when you stop being the brave one, the death-defier, and become instead the true friend of death, its accomplice, its more-than-brother."

Alfa Ndiaye is a young Chocolat from Senegal, one of the approximately 450,000 young men from North and West Africa who were conscripted to fight for the French Army on the front lines against Germany during World War I. At least 30,000 of them died in battle, and very few of the 2.3 million Africans who were mobilized during the war gained anything from their participation, as they remained poorly treated subjects of the European colonial powers and would not gain their independence and freedom for nearly half a century.

As the novel begins, Alfa is traumatized by the protracted death of Mademba Diop, his childhood friend and fellow soldier, who suffered for days next to his brother-in-arms after he was ambushed by a German soldier while trying to prove his bravery to him. Alfa takes it upon himself to avenge Mademba’s death, by ambushing one German soldier after another and bringing grisly “trophies” back with him to the trenches where his infantrymen are stationed. They initially brand him a hero for his single minded bravery and successful missions, but they ultimately began to fear and shun him as he becomes more determined and more mentally unstable. His commanding officer takes Alfa off of the front lines and has him admitted to a military psychiatric hospital. However, instead of finding peace and internal stability Alfa descends slowly into madness, as he slowly unravels and is transformed into an unreliable and very disturbed narrator, up to the book’s unexpected ending.

At Night All Blood Is Black is a superbly written and translated analysis of the horrors and effects of warfare on one sensitive young man, who is tasked to mercilessly kill enemy soldiers by hand yet maintain his humanity, and a glimpse of a largely unknown piece of history of the essential roles that millions of Africans played in World War I, which is fully deserving of being named the winner of the 2021 International Booker Prize.

France

The Godmother, Hannelore Cayre, 2017, translated from French by Stephanie Smee in 2019


cover comments: I like it. Blue covers are generally pleasing. I wonder if it looks too chick lit though. This book isn't chick lit.

Why I Read This Now: I can't remember what book-net rabbit hole I was down when I discovered this book a few months ago, but I had to order it right away. I'm interested in reading more non-literary translated fiction

Comments: I'll share the description that hooked me:

For 25 years she has toiled honestly, translating police wire-taps of north African drug gangs. She knows she's just a footsoldier in a senseless politicians' war against high-grade hashish, a tiny cog in the state machinery of racism and repression. But it's always paid the bills -- until now . . . With her mother's extortionate care home eating her savings, a lonely and impoverished old age lies ahead.

So when Patience gets the chance to take possession of a vast stash of top-quality Moroccan Khardala, she doesn't hesitate long. Exit the grey-suited civil servant. Enter "the Godmother." Life in the banlieues will never be the same again."

Rating: A quick, fun read, and most unique. 4 stars

Recommended for: Readers who want to see an unglamorous side of current day France.

Belgium

Madame Verona Comes Down the Hill, Dimitri Verhulst, 2006; translated from Dutch by David Comer, 2009


cover comments: This is rather nice. You can't go wrong with snowy forests on book covers, and the typeface is perfect. The "coming down the hill" event of the book, however, is set when Madame Verona is 82 years old. So I'm not sure what's with the young woman wearing that bizarre outfit. Maybe it's supposed to be symbolic or something.

I couldn't find a copy of this book from my usual Canadian sources, but Amazon.ca found me a copy from Blackwell's Books in Oxford -- a wonderful book shop that I hope to visit again someday

Comments: Madame Verona Comes Down the Hill, by Belgian author Dimitri Verhulst, is set in the diminishing isolated village of Oucwegne, and in meandering vignettes, tells of its quirky inhabitants. After each bit the book circled back to the widowed Madame Verona, living alone on the hill and remembering the love of her life, Monsieur Potter.

A quiet, unusual novel, written with interesting language that was often so convoluted that I had to reread sentences multiple times. Further, these sentences expressed things in a way that had never crossed my mind. Sometimes this was highly amusing, and other times it just made me scrunch my eyebrows. I think part of my problem with this was that I expected a different book and it took me a while to click with it.

Rating: Although I was unsure for much of the book, in the end I did really like this, and for the most part I appreciated the odd sentences. 4 stars.

Recommended for: I can promise you've never read a book quite like this before. Generally Madame Verona Comes Down the Hill gets high reader reviews. The few low-rating reviews are by readers who weren't in the mood to unravel the weird sentences or who are looking for a more narrative story.

Why I Read This Now: In early December I put all my books that seemed wintery on the top of my TBR pile. I noticed this one was set in February, so saved it for this month.

I finished First Harvest by Vladimir Pozner (translated from the French by Haakon Chevalier). The author of this novel about the German occupation of a small French Channel Coast village is not Vladimir Pozner, the contemporary journalist, but Vladimir Pozner, the French/Russian Jewish writer and intellectual. He was born in France in 1905, where his Russian/Jewish parents had fled after publicly supporting the failed Russian Revolution of 1905. In 1909, the family returned to Russia after a general amnesty was declared. Pozner studied in Leningrad, and in the meantime his parents gathered a literary community around themselves. Pozner returned to Paris in 1921 to study at the Sorbonne. He remained a Communist and socialized with the prominent Russian expatriate writers (and continued writing himself) who had gathered in in France. With the rise of Hitler, Mussolini and Franco, Pozner became a vocal anti-Fascist. He either did (the book's flyleaf) or didn't (Pozner's Wikipedia page) serve in the French Army during the German invasion. Either way, a fascinating life, which I've learned about only because somewhere along the line I purchased this beautiful first edition copy and somewhat randomly decided to pull it down off my shelf and read it last week. So, now maybe, finally, I should actually talk about the novel itself!

The novel takes place, as mentioned above, in a small, Channel Coast French village under occupation by the German Army. For the bored occupiers, there is very little going on except cold, rainy weather. For the villagers, what's going on is malnutrition, as their cattle and crops are requisitioned by the Germans. A plan is underway among the villagers to hide their wheat crop, but where? This malevolently placid setting is interrupted when a German enlisted soldier turns up missing and the occupiers look to the occupied for answers. There is a mist of unreality throughout the proceedings, particularly in the novel's first half. The characters are not fully drawn. The Germans in particular seem almost cartoon like in their foolishness. There is a degree of fable telling in the narrative, perhaps. At the beginning, I thought once or twice of the book, The Good Soldier Schweik, although here the comedic element is much more subdued. During the book's second half, however, as the tension and sense of menace mounts, any comedic sense still maintaining serves only to underscore the cruelty of the situation. This novel, one could say, is about the banality of evil. This is not a great novel. Although we do come to know and care about several of the villagers, the relative shallowness of the characterizations drains some impact from the proceedings. But the power of the situation itself has rendered this novel a very memorable one for me. I should mention that the book was published in 1943, so it was very much a novel of the moment.

The Netherlands: The death of Murat Idrissi by Tommy Wieringa - 3 stars


Tommy Wieringa is a Dutch writer of whom I have already read a number of books that I really liked. I like his writing style and the themes he tackles. This novella is about two Dutch girls of Moroccan descent who, due to a lack of money, have to make a drastic decision that gets them into big trouble and has far-reaching consequences.
Although the story seems a bit unbelievable (even if it seems to be based on true facts) and not all characters are equally well portrayed, I still found it very worthwhile: Wieringa knows how to create atmosphere and can keep a story interesting until the last moment. Actually, I think it's a shame that this was only a novella, because there was so much in this booklet that it would have been a great novel.

France: The Anomaly by Hervé Le Tellier - 3,5 stars


A story about the implications when a plane from Paris lands in New York a few months after the same plane from Paris landed in New York. Nothing unusual except for the fact that exactly the same people are on the plane and they don't know they have already landed. We follow some of the passengers and the reaction of the authorities who want to find out what happened.
I found this book a bit confusing, not so much because of the story but because of the author's style.
The way he referred to actual persons and situations was rather simplistic and at times I thought he was ridiculing his readers. But I don't know enough about Le Tellier to be able to properly interpret this book. It won the prestigious Prix Goncourt in 2020 so I probably missed the point.

France: Fresh Water for Flowers by Valérie Perrin - 2,5 stars

This book was recommended to me by several friends who had read it and were impressed by it. I read it about three weeks ago and I still don't know if I liked it or not.
It is mainly the story of a woman who grieves quietly but that changes when a man comes into her life who opens old wounds and knows how to heal them, but not in the way you would expect.
On the one hand, I found the story rather weak and sentimental and there were too many coincidences to be believable. I also struggled to empathize with most of the characters because I couldn't picture them properly. It wasn't because they were so complex, but rather because they just didn't come to life.
On the other hand, the book also had a kind of gentle, sensitive atmosphere that attracted me. The unique feature of the main character as a train guard resp. cemetery manager certainly contributed to this. I also liked the way the author peeled off the story layer by layer without revealing too much right away.
Overall I somehow liked the book, but in the end I wasn't that impressed. A bit too much of a chicklit.

France: The Mad Women's Ball by Victoria Mas - 2,5 stars


The story is set in the 19th century and tells the story of some women who ended up in the asylum for the insane La Salpétrière in Paris. Most of the women in this asylum did not belong there but were victims of the zeitgeist that was not exactly kind to women. And then there's the medical and nursing staff who also have to fight their own demons.
The La Salpétrière and Dr Charcot are important in the history of psychiatry and I had high expectations about this book. Unfortunately, the book failed to convince me as the storylines got stuck in predictability, sentimentality and cliché.

France: Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert - 4 stars


What more can be said about this classic about which so much has been written already. It's been on my "must-read classic" list for a long time but was a bit hesitant because I really didn't feel the need for another "women's novel" (how ironic, in light of previous discussions around my thread :-)) from a yearning woman to be rescued.
But look, I decided to bite the bullet and have once again found that classics are not called classics for nothing. Regardless of all the qualities of the book, it made me stop and think about the characters of Emma and Charles Bovary, both prisoners of their time. And after reading this book, I wonder what Emma's life would have been like if she'd had the chance to develop instead of being pushed into a role she didn't like. Somewhere in the book she says, apparently rather thoughtlessly, that she would have liked to become a nurse. And indeed, earlier in the book it had already been described how she had come to the aid of her husband in a prompt and skilful manner during a medical procedure. But for someone like Emma, ​​this may not have been possible. The subtitle of this book (Mœurs de province) therefore seems very relevant to me. This book was a very pleasant surprise for me.

BELGIUM (Flanders)

Gas! The Battle for Ypres, 1915 by James McWilliams is the detailed description of the Second Battle of Ypres. To be honest, there was so much information concerning regiments, brigades, companies, battalions, and troops, that it clouded what I thought should be the impetus of the book, the gassing. What was obvious was the lack of coordination between the Allied Command and the total lack of respect for human life. I was disappointed with the lack of the gas attack(s) in this book. I really wasn't interested in troop strength and movements. 247 pages

The author, James L. McWilliams is Canadian born and bred and has written three books on The Great War. Mr. McWilliams is also the author of MacHugh Memoirs, a series of seven historical-adventure novels based on a Canadian adventurer, Rory MacHugh in the early 1800’s. One of those novels, A Secret of the Sphinx, was nominated for a Global Excellence Award. (Am unable to bring up touchstones)

>129 Trifolia: Worth watching Gemma Bovary. Film about “a bookish baker observing the arrival of a London couple in his Normandy town. He immediately becomes obsessed with the lovely Gemma, and starts seeing parallels to his favorite novel‘
https://m.imdb.com/title/tt2788556/reviews

The Brethren This was book # 1 in a 13 book series (The Fortunes of France) by the French novelist, Robert Merle. The novel begins in 16th century France in the Périgord region, the furthest away from the reach of the French king. The "Brethren" are Reformists, or Huguenots. The history seems to be spot on. France is descending into chaos with the black plague, religious wars, famines, and large bands of robbers. The story line is top-notch. The problem I have with the book, although I'm fairly certain it is a personal issue, is that there are so many French phrases (2-3 sentences in length) that I'm agitated that I can't read/understand them. When I Googled them, they are non-sensical. There is also a plethora of characters and the two main characters are so similarly named, sometimes it's difficult to distinguish between them: Jean de Sauveterre and Jean de Siorac. Couldn't the author have been more distinguishing! I love this time period and historical fiction, but I won't be finishing the series.