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Loading... November (1842)by Gustave Flaubert
None. A brilliant piece of juvenalia from Flaubert. True, the philosophizing and navel-gazing seem endless and there are stretches where nothing (plot-wise, at least) happens. But Flaubert mines this cliche-ridden genre (young, sensitive artist meets hooker with heart of gold) for all it's worth. An immature work, but also a beautiful work by a young writer, taut and excessive at the same time. I'd like to see the current crop of writers try to pull something like this off at the tender age of 19. ( )1438 November, by Gustave Flaubert translated by Frank Jellinek (read 19 Mar 1977) This was read while I was reading a biography of Flaubert, and I thought I should read some of what he wrote before I finished the biography. This book was written when Flaubert was about 20. It starts out well but then degenerates into a paean of evil. Hilarious juvenilia. no reviews | add a review
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