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A review by meghaha
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
5.0
I read the translation by Lydia Davis. I believe it must be a good translation; often, I felt like I could see through it to the outline of the original. Even so, I think Madame Bovary belongs --perhaps even heads--the list of books that you have to read in the original language, because the prose itself is as important as the story or the characters, perhaps the most important aspect of the entire novel. Fortunately I was still able to get the sense, as in passing impressions of light and shadow, of just how beautiful and controlled Flaubert's prose must be in French. His sentences capture moments and hold them suspended for you to examine, as if caught in amber.
Aside from the pleasure of reading prose crafted with infinite care and precision, I can say I also liked the plot and rendering of characters. I can relate to the girlish romanticism that Madame Bovary is driven by (having felt it too and having outgrown it somewhat by now, thankfully), and the listlessness, as well. And though Madame Bovary can be cruel, shallow, and selfish, I didn't dislike her. I kind of want to marvel at the skillfulness of which Flaubert inverts her character; starting off as someone angling towards refinement, beauty, she ends up following the opposite trajectory: she plummets. It's a beautiful and distasteful fall and Flaubert, as ever, describes it with his customary meticulousness and ability to impart life and vividness to every scene. The minor characters also receive careful attention: for what wasn't painstakingly labored over in this book? Flaubert was probably one of the most exacting and dedicated of writers ever, and for that alone Madame Bovary is impressive.
Really, it's a shame I can't read French.
Aside from the pleasure of reading prose crafted with infinite care and precision, I can say I also liked the plot and rendering of characters. I can relate to the girlish romanticism that Madame Bovary is driven by (having felt it too and having outgrown it somewhat by now, thankfully), and the listlessness, as well. And though Madame Bovary can be cruel, shallow, and selfish, I didn't dislike her. I kind of want to marvel at the skillfulness of which Flaubert inverts her character; starting off as someone angling towards refinement, beauty, she ends up following the opposite trajectory: she plummets. It's a beautiful and distasteful fall and Flaubert, as ever, describes it with his customary meticulousness and ability to impart life and vividness to every scene. The minor characters also receive careful attention: for what wasn't painstakingly labored over in this book? Flaubert was probably one of the most exacting and dedicated of writers ever, and for that alone Madame Bovary is impressive.
Really, it's a shame I can't read French.