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A review by aromaticbug
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
4.0
So many little clever details are thrown in (the priest's umbrella! what a good lad); surprised by how comedic it is, how dark the humor (Homais having the famous doctor over for breakfast!); seeing Emma's slow and steady descent, at once reviling her and feeling sorry for her; the goddman stable boy's "surgery" made me stop reading for the day I was so upset. The kind of story I'd imagine a lot of people would struggle getting through because it is all one intricately planned procession of awfulness. Everyone but the help are, at best annoying, but mostly awful, and only becomes more and more awfuller as you see how their little foibles and traits are manifestations of a Jungian shadow-personality.
Favorite bit(s): "It was the beginning of October. A mist hung over the fields. A few ribbons of vapor lay along the horizon, following the outline of the hills, while others, separating, drifted higher, and disappeared. When, from time to time, the clouds parted, a ray of sunlight would shine on the distant roofs of Yonville, with its gardens running down to the river, its yards, walls, and church steeple. Emma half closed her eyes as she tried to find her house, and never had this poor village where she lived looked so small to her. From the high ground they had reached, the whole valley resembled a vast lake evaporating into the air. Here and there, clumps of trees stood out like black rocks, and the tall rows of poplars, projecting above the mist, were like the lakes wind-tossed, leafy banks.
Favorite bit(s): "It was the beginning of October. A mist hung over the fields. A few ribbons of vapor lay along the horizon, following the outline of the hills, while others, separating, drifted higher, and disappeared. When, from time to time, the clouds parted, a ray of sunlight would shine on the distant roofs of Yonville, with its gardens running down to the river, its yards, walls, and church steeple. Emma half closed her eyes as she tried to find her house, and never had this poor village where she lived looked so small to her. From the high ground they had reached, the whole valley resembled a vast lake evaporating into the air. Here and there, clumps of trees stood out like black rocks, and the tall rows of poplars, projecting above the mist, were like the lakes wind-tossed, leafy banks.