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jonfaith 's review for:
Cesar Birotteau
by Honoré de Balzac
During:
I'm on page 62 of 320 of Cesar Birotteau: Presently besieged with a massive head cold; found the sinuous digressions of Marias too much for such a debility. My hero Balzac hasn't let me down. I read for the better part of a hour at the pharmacy and the clerk asked about the novel as I was paying: oblivious is an apt description. I'm sensing there need to be more adaptations from B at the multiplex, perhaps ones with CGI wolves. —
In Conclusion:
It is a testament to Balzac's "minor" novel of speculation and jurisprudence, that while my side struggled and was ultimately defeated in the FA Cup today, I kept wavering in my attentions to return to the novel's final pages. There is a certain narrow or constricted view of Birotteau, but i believe that is the point. Excuse my brush into authorial intent, but I found Balzac's creation a proto-Babbit: a muddled middlebrow with pitch, a smile and a distorted sense of reality.
I'm on page 62 of 320 of Cesar Birotteau: Presently besieged with a massive head cold; found the sinuous digressions of Marias too much for such a debility. My hero Balzac hasn't let me down. I read for the better part of a hour at the pharmacy and the clerk asked about the novel as I was paying: oblivious is an apt description. I'm sensing there need to be more adaptations from B at the multiplex, perhaps ones with CGI wolves. —
In Conclusion:
It is a testament to Balzac's "minor" novel of speculation and jurisprudence, that while my side struggled and was ultimately defeated in the FA Cup today, I kept wavering in my attentions to return to the novel's final pages. There is a certain narrow or constricted view of Birotteau, but i believe that is the point. Excuse my brush into authorial intent, but I found Balzac's creation a proto-Babbit: a muddled middlebrow with pitch, a smile and a distorted sense of reality.