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A review by stefhyena
Flaubert's Parrot by Julian Barnes
challenging
funny
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
It's well written and I think carefully researched but at the end of the day it's points it is making fall flat and it's hard to even know what the main issue to think about is from this cluttered and to-wry book. The narrator voice is unrelatable and inconsistent. It was not just that I did not like him (my first impression) but I kept being confused about what age and era he was supposed to be and then later on when we are meant to believe in layers where his voice takes on Louise's perspective I don't think that was done believable and at times I wondered how much of this was Barnes hiding behind this not very developed and tiresome character to say things he wanted to say...but even these were neither particularly provocative or even clear enough to agree/disagree with. I enjoyed some early parts of the book where I thought it was mocking some of the more pompous (male) aspects of literary tradition and "the canon" and even though the part about being wanked off was stupid, I thought there was a point to be made.
By the end I was really weary of this info-dump slash angst, at the end they finally explain the narrator's wife dying which came from the literary era of men talking about abandonment by women, and I have to say while this still left the woman's perspective as incomprehensively selfish, it was better than Tim Winton's abandonment tale (The Riders) which I was also forced to read at uni. I have to say in the early 90s reading all these stories (by men and noone thought to publish women's accounts except very niche feminist presses) I was struck by the casual selfishness of men who could label a woman "selfish" and "impossible to understand" while making zero effort to include or even allow her voice. Barnes as Geoffrey being Louise (a man's idea of a man's idea of a femme fatale) does not count as "women's voice". Like they all had mothers and wives and even colleagues. Could they not have asked/listened?
It as irritating from the perspective of someone who did not find women enigmatic at all to read this constantly and wonder why at uni they kept telling us these sort of clueless men's tales were considered "proper literature" while anything that was enjoyable or made sense was not. Thankfully I think some of that work has been done and I can just look back with sympathy for my teenage self for not wanting to read shit like this.
Which was admittedly well written and definitely a lot better than Winton which I was pushed into reading...or there were others too...some of them are still writing.
By the end I was really weary of this info-dump slash angst, at the end they finally explain the narrator's wife dying which came from the literary era of men talking about abandonment by women, and I have to say while this still left the woman's perspective as incomprehensively selfish, it was better than Tim Winton's abandonment tale (The Riders) which I was also forced to read at uni. I have to say in the early 90s reading all these stories (by men and noone thought to publish women's accounts except very niche feminist presses) I was struck by the casual selfishness of men who could label a woman "selfish" and "impossible to understand" while making zero effort to include or even allow her voice. Barnes as Geoffrey being Louise (a man's idea of a man's idea of a femme fatale) does not count as "women's voice". Like they all had mothers and wives and even colleagues. Could they not have asked/listened?
It as irritating from the perspective of someone who did not find women enigmatic at all to read this constantly and wonder why at uni they kept telling us these sort of clueless men's tales were considered "proper literature" while anything that was enjoyable or made sense was not. Thankfully I think some of that work has been done and I can just look back with sympathy for my teenage self for not wanting to read shit like this.
Which was admittedly well written and definitely a lot better than Winton which I was pushed into reading...or there were others too...some of them are still writing.