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"Sin ought to be an exquisite thing, my dear."

A scathing indictment of Paris during the rise of the Second Empire, Zola here centres his novel around a man driven by power and a woman driven by insatiable desires with a refusal to self-analyse (shades of His Excellency Eugene Rougon). The gorgeous descriptions, running multiple pages at a time, of palatial estates springing up across the city create a banquet so rich it spoils. Zola consciously overwhelms our senses as he examines how the twinned greed of Saccard and Renee exemplifies the grotesque abundance that characterised this era. (Strange, in a way, to imagine him writing this in the period immediately following the Empire.)

As usual with Zola, symbolism is rich and plentiful. The houses are decorated in images of life: fruit and flowers and plants, but which are made of stone, images only of the nature from which they are removed. (At book's end, one character will weep "at not having listened to the voices of the trees".) The "kill" referred to in the novel's title is that which is killed by dogs during a hunt. For each of the main characters, there is a desire to claim that kill - whether it be pleasure, power, money, or something else entirely - but such a goal requires a great sacrifice of one's self.

Zola's obsession with the idea that characteristics and traits are passed down perhaps becomes a bit of a distraction during this novel, especially with the son Maxime who displays worrying (read: bisexual or at least epicene) traits which one feels that the author disdains. And his evident desire to write a novel of the moment, one set in a world with which contemporary readers were familiar, means this novel stretches the brain a little more than, say, The Fortune of the Rougons where only a few footnotes are required to assist with the powerful atmosphere. Here, one gets the sense that the supporting characters are all strongly recognisable types or even direct references - roman a clef - that do not resonate 150 years on.

But that's the dismissive part out of the way. This is an engaging chapter in the ongoing Rougon-Macquart series. The best part is that there was plenty of symbolism even without the author. The boulevards that went up and the complete reconstruction of Paris under the Second Empire were directly political acts. (In Zola, perhaps everything is political.) As Brian Nelson notes in his excellent introduction for the recent Oxford World's Classics edition, they were acts of power - ripping through districts of the poor or disenfranchised, and creating easy avenues for troops to be deployed in the event of an uprising. They were also very much acts of capitalism, both in the way the rich fattened themselves on the spoils, and also in the Paris they created, so much better prepared for the age of "gold and flesh" Zola reflects upon.

Fun fun. ( )

Took me forever to finish this for a bunch of reasons but I'm glad I finally saw it through to the end as it's a fascinating novel that I didn't know how to asssess until the very close. The poisonous love triangle at its core is fascinating and I love the way it weaves into the plot around Aristide Saccard (formerly Rougon, continuing on from the first novel in the cycle)'s property speculations. Renee is a fascinating character, a kind of dissolute dreamer always grasping for something more and yet confined by her stifling surroundings and the meaningless of the spectacle surrounding her, while her chosen love-object (and stepson) Maxime is a curious creation - extremely feminine in appearance and character in a way that would usually be equated with homosexuality in novels of this era, but here is used as a marker for some kind of deeper gendered difference that seems conceived ahead of the time of the novel.

A little drawn out at points and toughgoing, but I'm glad I stuck with it to the end which wrapped things together beautifully and tragically.

____

Really difficult read in French, especially because of burnout with long descriptive passages but I'm glad I saw it through - hopefully it'll give me energy to keep going with my reading. ( )

A scuola di amministrazione del bene pubblico (qualcosa di nuovo?).

Come aveva detto felicemente Eugenio Rougon, Parigi si metteva a tavola sognando al dessert una baldoria finale. (70)
( )

Renee is around 30 years old when the story opens. She is married to Sacccard, who changed his name from Rougon. Saccard has a son named Maxime, and also a daughter named celeste, from his first marriage. Celeste has been sent away to live with Aunt Margaret, so she's not even in this story.
Maxime is a spoiled little boy who is very effeminate. He's about 9 years younger than renee. When he gets out of school, he comes to live with his father and renee.
Renee adores him, and treats him like her little plaything. This goes too far one night when they go to a private room in a restaurant, that has a sofa in it, and they end up having sex.
The next morning Renee sleeps in late, but she's bothered by her husband, who comes in to tell her that he can't pay her dressmaker's bill, that's $136,000 francs:
" 'you know, my dear, I'm not in the habit of criticizing your purchases, though I must say that some items here surprised me somewhat. On the second page, for example: ball dress: material, 70 francs; making up, 600 francs; money lent, 5,000 francs; eau de docteur Pierre, six francs. That seems rather expensive for a 70 franc dress. But as you know, I understand every kind of weakness. Your bill comes to $136,000 francs, and you have been almost moderate, comparatively speaking. But, as I say, I can't pay it, I'm short of money.' "
Saccard makes his money by doing crooked moves during the renovation of paris. But he does lavish entertaining, and courts ladies with expensive gifts, so he can barely keep up with his expenses. even though money comes pouring in every morning, It goes pouring out every night.

In 1850-something paris, women wore voluminous gowns, often with trains,. They showed not their legs, with mini skirts, like we did in my day, but had their bodice cut so low that their nipples were barely constrained:
"The next day, at the ministry ball, the beautiful Madame Saccard was dazzling. Worms [the dressmaker] had accepted the 50,000 francs on account, and she emerged from her financial straights with the laughter of convalescence. As she walked through the reception rooms in her great dress of pink faille with its long Louie XIV train, edged with deep white lace, there was a murmur, men jostled each other to see her. Her friends bowed low, smiling discreetly, paying homage to those beautiful shoulders, so well known in high society, and looked upon us the pillars of the empire. she had bared her breasts with such contempt for the gaze of others, she walked so serenely in her nakedness, that it almost seemed to be indecent. Eugene rougon [Saccard's brother], the great politician, felt that her breasts were even more eloquent than his speeches in the Chamber, softer and more persuasive and making people appreciate the charms of the Empire. He went up to his sister-in-law to complement her on her happy stroke of audacity in lowering her bodice yet another inch. Almost all the corps legislatif was there, and from the way the deputies looked at renee, the minister foresaw success the next day in the delicate matter of the loans of the City of Paris. It was impossible to vote against a power that produced, on the compost of millions, a flower like renee, such a strangely voluptuous flower, with silk and flesh and statuesque nudity, a living joy that left in her wake the fragrance of pure pleasure."
Zola and his language is amazing!

Renee is in deep straits now, as she continues to want dresses she can't afford, and also can't pay her dressmaker's bill. He won't take any more orders from her unless she makes a 50,000 franc payment. Saccard's sister, Madame Sidonie, who is just as crooked as her brother, has offered to set Renee up with Monsieur de Saffré, who has been wanting to take out Renee for a while. In other words, if Renee screws him, he'll give her 50,000 francs.
Renee is up in the rooms of Madame Sidonie, and Monsieur de Saffré is in the next room, when she loses her nerve:
"When Madame Sidonie returned, opening and closing the door very carefully, she made repeated signs with her fingers to get Renee to speak quietly. Then she whispered in her ear:
'you have no idea, this is a stroke of luck: it's Monsieur de Saffré.'
'you haven't told him, surely, that I'm here?' Asked Renee nervously.
The businesswoman seemed surprised, and answered very innocently:
'I did indeed. He's waiting for me to ask him in. Of course, I didn't mention the 50,000 francs.'
Renee, very pale, had drawn herself up as though struck with a whip. A feeling of infinite pride Rose within her. the rough creaking of boots, which she could now hear more distinctly in the next room, exasperated her.
'I'm going,' she said curtly. 'Come and open the door for me.'
Madame Sidonie tried to smile.
'don't be silly. I can't be left with this young man on my hands, now that I've told him you're here. You're compromising me, really.'
but Renee was already at the foot of the little staircase. She repeated before the closed shop-door:
'open it, open it.'
The lace-dealer had a habit of putting the brass knob in her pocket after she had taken it off the door. She wanted to carry on arguing. At last, becoming angry, her meanness showing in her grey eyes, she cried:
'but what on earth do you want me to tell him?'
'That I'm not for sale,' replied renee, with one foot on the pavement. She thought she heard Madame Sidonie mutter, as she slammed the door: 'get out of her then, you slut! You'll pay for this.' "

Monsieur and Madame Saccard are nearly ruined, financially, but Saccard goes ahead with his plans for a dinner and entertainment at their "Palace", at the culmination of the renovation of paris.
The entertainment is an orchestra, and three sets of still dramas, where women (and Maxime) are dressed up to portray a scene from mythology.
Well, the artist that Saccard hires to choreograph this, takes so long to arrange and bring out each presentation, that the guests become ravenous for food. When the servants open the doors to the dining room, there is a rush of slavering beasts:
" 'gently, Messieurs, gently,' said Baptiste in his grave voice. 'There's enough for everyone.'
But nobody listened. The dining room was full, and anxious dress-coats stood on tiptoe at the door. Before the sideboards stood groups, eating quickly, crowding together. Many swallowed their food without drinking, not having been able to lay their hands on a glass. Others, on the contrary, drank and looked in vain for a morsel of bread.
'Listen,' said Monsieur Hupel de la Noire [the choreographer], whom Mignon and Charrier, sick of mythology, had dragged to the supper room. 'We shan't get a thing if we don't stick together. It's much worse at the Tuileries, and I know what I'm talking about. You look after the wine, I'll see to the food.'
The prefect had his eye on a leg of mutton. He stretched out his arm at the right moment through a sudden Gap in the mass of shoulders, and quietly carried it off after stuffing his pocket with rolls. The contractors appeared, Mignon with one bottle of champagne, Charrier with two; but they had only been able to find two glasses; they said that it did not matter, they would drink out of the same one. They all supped from the corner of a flower-stand at the end of the room. They did not even take off their gloves, but put the slices already cut from the leg of mutton between the bread, and kept the bottles under their arms. Standing up, they talked with their mouths full, stretching out their chins so that the gravy would fall on the carpet.
Charrier, having finished his wine before his bread, asked the servant to get him a glass of champagne.
'You'll have to wait, Monsieur!' the servant angrily replied, forgetting that he was not in the kitchen. '300 bottles have been finished already.' "

The cotillon, at the end of the ball, is something like the Grand March we used to do at the end of a session of ice skating. One person is chosen as the leader, and everybody has to do what he says, following along. Some hilarious scenes ensue:
"the noise was deafening, there was a confused mêlée in which at first she could make out nothing but flying skirts and prancing black legs. Monsieur de Saffré's voice cried, 'change your partners! Change your partners!' The couples passed by amid a fine yellow dust; each gentleman, after 3 or 4 turns in the waltz, threw his partner into the arms of his neighbor, who in turn threw him his. Baroness de Meinhold, in her costume as the Emerald, fell from the hands of the Compte de Chibray into the hands of Mr Simpson; he caught her as best he could by the shoulder, while the tips of his gloves glided under her bodice. the Comtesse Vanska, flushed, jingling her Coral pendants, went with a bound from the chest of Monsieur de Saffré to the chest of the Duc de Rozan, whom she entwined in her arms and compelled to hop round for five turns, when she hung on to the hips of Mr simpson, who had just flung The Emerald to the leader of the cotillon. Madame teissière, Madame daste, and Madame de Lauwerens shone like large, live jewels, with the blond pallor of the Topaz, the blue of the Turquoise, and the bright blue of the Sapphire; they had moments of abandonment, curved under a waltzer's outstretched wrist, then set off again, fell backwards or forwards into a fresh embrace, found themselves successively in the arms of every man in the room. However, Madame d'Espanet, standing in front of the band, had succeeded in catching hold of Madame haffner as she sped by, and now waltzed with her, refusing to let her go. Gold and Silver danced lovingly together."

The ending is very sad, when Saccard abandons renee, and she goes back to live with her old father.

Zola can write; he uses language like, I don't know how to explain it, but it's like you're eating Rich, delicious food when you're reading it. The last book I read from Zola was the one about the coal miners. I'll be reading more Zola, soon. ( )