A review by mlautchi
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

5.0

I devoured this. Artfully written, despite the ugliness of the events that take place.

Flaubert paints a grim picture of what life was like for women of the time, constrained by society and its expectations and morality. Emma is under the false illusions that marriage equals fulfillment and that love is the be-all and end-all, which can hardly fail to result in disappointment. Yet I failed to empathize with her, as she is egocentric beyond comprehension, and ludicrously unrealistic. But then I've always been a realist and have never quite understood enthusiasitc romantics.

Quotes

"One moment she would be gay and wide-eyed; the next, she would half shut her eyelids and seem drowned in boredom, her thoughts miles away." (p37 Vintage Steegmuller translation with Princess de Broglie cover)

"And Emma tried to imagine just what was meant, in life, by the words "bliss," "passion," and "rapture" -- words that had seemed so beautiful to her in books." (40)

"She loved the sea for its storms alone, cared for vegetation only when it grew here and there among the ruins." (42)

"And now she could not bring herself to believe that the uneventful life she was leading was the happiness of which she had dreamed." (46-7)

"Iced champagne was served, and the feel of the cold wine in her mouth gave Emma a shiver that ran over her from head to toe." (57)

"But her life was as cold as an attic facing north; and boredom, like a silent spider, was weaving its web in the shadows, in every corner of her heart."

"Spring came again. She found it hard to breathe, the first warm days, when the peartrees were bursting into blossom." (73)

" 'What's more delightful than an evening beside the fire with a nice bright lamp and a book, listening to the wind beating against the windows?' " (99)

"She refused to believe that things could be the same in different places; and since what had gone before had been so bad, what was to come must certainly be better.” (102)

"The river ... ran silently, swift and cold-looking; long fine grasses bent with the current, like masses of loose green hair streaming in its limpid depths. Here and there on the tip of a reed or on a water-lily pad a spidery-legged insect was poised or crawling. Sunbeams pierced the little blue air bubbles that kept forming and breaking on the ripples; branchless old willows mirrored their gray bark in the water in the distance the meadows seemed empty all around them." (112)

"The light seemed to glide down her forehead to her arching brows as on a marble statue. And there was no way of knowing what she was gazing at on the horizon or what her deepest thoughts might be." (141)

"She remembered summer evenings, full of sunshine." (202)

"But how to speak about so elusive a malaise, one that keeps changing its shape like the clouds and its direction like the wind? She could find no words; and hence neither occasion nor courage came to hand."

"Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars." (224)

"She was finally blooming in the fullness of her nature." (228)

"She was the amoureuse of all the novels, the heroine of all the plays, the vague "she" of all the poetry books." (313)

"We shouldn't maltreat our idols: the gilt comes off on our hands."

"Our duty is ... not to accept all the social conventions and the infamies they impose on us."