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kelvin37's review against another edition
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
old_fart_at_play's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
cafe_con_cass's review against another edition
3.0
I think nineteenth century French lit just might not be for me. Thought provoking but didactic.
claireh5's review against another edition
4.0
Facile à lire et intéressant !
La première histoire avec le perroquet a définitivement été préférée, mais les deux autres sont plutôt cool aussi.
La première histoire avec le perroquet a définitivement été préférée, mais les deux autres sont plutôt cool aussi.
cameronius's review against another edition
5.0
Three masterful stories by Flaubert. I'd already read the first, A Simple Heart, but all three are excellent examples of his precise, realist style. Highly recommended.
lee_foust's review against another edition
4.0
It had been some years since I'd read Flaubert. Which, in retrospect seems odd to me as I really remember loving the two novels of his that I'd read in the past--Madame Bovary in college (which supplies an epigram for my first collection of stories, Poison and Antidote) and, as background for my Ph.D. dissertation on literary otherworldly journeys, The Temptation of St, Anthony, a little more than a decade ago. So, why do I tarry to read the remainder of the master's works? Why do I not turn to a tome penned by good old Gustave more frequently? Dunno, probably has something to do with marketing.
At any rate, I picked up this thin Penguin paperback that's been languishing on my shelves for probably 30+ years and read it along with the copy of Julian Barnes's Flaubert's Parot that I picked up for a buck in a thrift store this summer as I deemed it propitious to read them concurrently. Indeed it was, for, without having read the tale "A Simple Heart" I'm sure Barnes's rambling novel of Flaubertian criticism, literary fetishization, and a seasoning of personal heartbreak would have meant a bit less without the first-hand background, even if that novel is more or less self-contained.
But, surprise! Flaubert's tales are quite a bit better than Barnes's po-mo encounter with them and the ephemera his novel's narrator picks through in avoidance of telling us his own story. The theme I found linking these three disparate tales was Christian service. That is to say they seemed to hit that heart of Christian belief, that most Christ-like of all attributes, that most self-professed Christians wholly lack, the ability to give something of themselves to others without hope of reward and without coercion. Believing in the dignity and/or worthiness of other human beings and serving them is a whole lot more difficult than believing in an absent deity upon which you can project all of your own manias. For human beings are distinctly unworthy most of the time vis-a-vis our moralist tendencies to harp on others' flaws while ignoring our own. Human beings are selfish, contradictory, and cowed by conformity to societal norms and particular situations. Plus our modern capitalism is diametrically opposed to this aspect of an early stage of Western Christianity; capitalism tears us apart as people through competition and materialism, encouraging hostility and suspicion of others rather than togetherness and mutual service. (If you're looking for a reason for all these mass shootings, look no further than the effects of the profit motive and the jealousy created by wealth inequality--oh, yeah, and all the guns lying around just waiting to be used.) It's not strange then that the panorama of service presented in the three stories--a woman born to serve who does so without complaint, a Christian saint who dooms himself to service in order to make up for a grievous, oedipal-like sin, and lastly, the story of Herodias and John the Baptist's followers, who all appear hapless servants of the forces of fate.
It's a bit odd to me how much I enjoyed these Christian tales even though I'm a confirmed atheist. I felt about them exactly the opposite way I felt about Bulgakov's Biblical revision scenes in The Master and Margarita, which I also read recently. I guess because Bulgakov was trying to bring a new reality to the obviously fairy-tale versions of events in the Bible itself, to legitimize and modernize the stories for contemporary literary taste--a ridiculous enterprise, despite the great talent of the writer--I received Flaubert's story, revised saint's life, and Biblical re-telling, as a kind of slap in the face of the modern hypocritical post-capitalist Christian reader. That is to say, Flaubert's three tales throw an abandoned aspect of Christianity in the face of modern Christians who have, for the most part, left service and obsequiousness behind long ago in favor of power, the proud exploitation and manipulation of their fellow man, slavery, coercive moralism, aggressive self-suppression through law and policing and militarism, racism, self-hatred, divisionism and world domination--much of our contemporary nastiness might be said to spring from our culture's abandoning of voluntary, mutual service for the construction of hierarchies of power that force us to serve (and therefore despise servitude) through various forms of violent and coercive domination.
At any rate, I picked up this thin Penguin paperback that's been languishing on my shelves for probably 30+ years and read it along with the copy of Julian Barnes's Flaubert's Parot that I picked up for a buck in a thrift store this summer as I deemed it propitious to read them concurrently. Indeed it was, for, without having read the tale "A Simple Heart" I'm sure Barnes's rambling novel of Flaubertian criticism, literary fetishization, and a seasoning of personal heartbreak would have meant a bit less without the first-hand background, even if that novel is more or less self-contained.
But, surprise! Flaubert's tales are quite a bit better than Barnes's po-mo encounter with them and the ephemera his novel's narrator picks through in avoidance of telling us his own story. The theme I found linking these three disparate tales was Christian service. That is to say they seemed to hit that heart of Christian belief, that most Christ-like of all attributes, that most self-professed Christians wholly lack, the ability to give something of themselves to others without hope of reward and without coercion. Believing in the dignity and/or worthiness of other human beings and serving them is a whole lot more difficult than believing in an absent deity upon which you can project all of your own manias. For human beings are distinctly unworthy most of the time vis-a-vis our moralist tendencies to harp on others' flaws while ignoring our own. Human beings are selfish, contradictory, and cowed by conformity to societal norms and particular situations. Plus our modern capitalism is diametrically opposed to this aspect of an early stage of Western Christianity; capitalism tears us apart as people through competition and materialism, encouraging hostility and suspicion of others rather than togetherness and mutual service. (If you're looking for a reason for all these mass shootings, look no further than the effects of the profit motive and the jealousy created by wealth inequality--oh, yeah, and all the guns lying around just waiting to be used.) It's not strange then that the panorama of service presented in the three stories--a woman born to serve who does so without complaint, a Christian saint who dooms himself to service in order to make up for a grievous, oedipal-like sin, and lastly, the story of Herodias and John the Baptist's followers, who all appear hapless servants of the forces of fate.
It's a bit odd to me how much I enjoyed these Christian tales even though I'm a confirmed atheist. I felt about them exactly the opposite way I felt about Bulgakov's Biblical revision scenes in The Master and Margarita, which I also read recently. I guess because Bulgakov was trying to bring a new reality to the obviously fairy-tale versions of events in the Bible itself, to legitimize and modernize the stories for contemporary literary taste--a ridiculous enterprise, despite the great talent of the writer--I received Flaubert's story, revised saint's life, and Biblical re-telling, as a kind of slap in the face of the modern hypocritical post-capitalist Christian reader. That is to say, Flaubert's three tales throw an abandoned aspect of Christianity in the face of modern Christians who have, for the most part, left service and obsequiousness behind long ago in favor of power, the proud exploitation and manipulation of their fellow man, slavery, coercive moralism, aggressive self-suppression through law and policing and militarism, racism, self-hatred, divisionism and world domination--much of our contemporary nastiness might be said to spring from our culture's abandoning of voluntary, mutual service for the construction of hierarchies of power that force us to serve (and therefore despise servitude) through various forms of violent and coercive domination.
joyceontheroad's review against another edition
4.0
What a beautiful and poetic style of writing. Loved this.
cameroncarriglio's review against another edition
dark
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.25
meornithorynque's review against another edition
4.0
This is the first book of Flaubert i've read. I was appealed by the parrott story (well, I was 13). I've read it few times then. Like it.