Madame Bovary

I came to Madame Bovary bearing in mind two quotes: author Dan Simmons' claim that it "separated the history of novels into two categories — Before Madame Bovary and After Madame Bovary"; and what Henry James said, that this novel "has a perfection that not only stamps it, but that makes it stand almost alone". The consensus is that Flaubert exhibited himself as a master of style in writing this novel, employing Realism in its detail of commoners' lives, his exacting word choice and descriptions. Letters written by Flaubert at the time speak to his frustration and despair at ever achieving the perfection he was aiming for ("Writing this book I am like a man playing the piano with lead balls attached to his knuckles."), but posterity show more has since brushed away those fears and Madame Bovary is found, over and over again, on lists of the best novels ever written in any language.

I'm a poor scholar who could not have recognized any of these facts if I'd not been hit over the head with them beforehand. The book I read appears fairly straightforward, simple. That may be its deception. The sentence structure, as Mr. Simmons has pointed out, is purposely perfect throughout for reading aloud, in its lengths and pauses. I did admire the wonderful choices of detail in describing a scene or characters' actions, and the way Flaubert expertly described difficult-to-capture feelings through metaphor. I'm extremely curious how much of the novel's vaunted perfection is lost in translation from French to English, but still I can be appreciative of what comes across. My final impression of the novel's style is that, while I can't point to exactly what its perfection entails, I sense the evidence sufficiently well to accept the opinions of my scholastic betters at face value.

I've not yet addressed what the novel is about. A woman married to a country doctor becomes dissatisfied with her present circumstances, comparing it always to an alternative of which she dreams. Her fatal flaw lies in believing happiness is delivered to oneself as a package with a particular setting, with particular accoutrements. She lives in her dreams of a fantasy life that is expressly free of all domestic concerns, thoughts for others, practical matters. Her desire for its attainment becomes her only goal of worth, to be had at any cost, for which she begins to excuse herself any action. It is her fascination with the fantasy life she dreams of obtaining that continuously places more distance between her and reality, until she becomes susceptible to those who would take advantage. With even so little external validation as that, she loses all ability to distinguish between fantasy and reality and becomes lost thereafter.

What does it all mean? It's unlikely to simply be a commentary on the immorality of adultery. I've gathered Flaubert was no fan of the bourgeoisie, and this novel may summarize his views: their fascination with haute-culture, their equating it with happiness, and how very far from happiness this attitude taken to its extreme might lead. The flip side interpretation is that Emma's flights of fancy are in fact condoned by the author as insightfulness into beauty, which the staid bourgeoisie community surrounding her is entirely blind even to imagining. Either way, bourgeoisie get the shaft.

I'm going to dare a criticism and say, what I felt missing was Madame's inner thoughts and feelings which led her into marriage. They are so quickly mentioned and then put behind her, I barely grasped what placed her in her predicament. It would have been more satisfying to me had more of the initial story been told from her perspective, so we could witness and better understand what her impressions and expectations of Charles had been. Perhaps Flaubert felt this was irrelevant to his story, or sufficiently described and/or implied as it stands, and perhaps a million critics before me have agreed with him - but I wonder at it. In spite of that, what I won't dare is to give this novel a less than perfect score. show less

What could I possibly say about Madame Bovary that hasn't been said? It's a classic. As the preface of my edition puts it, it's the 'first sex and shopping novel.'

Gustave takes his time pulling you into the story, but by 150 pages in things are zinging right along. His writing is wonderful throughout the book, but you don't really come to appreciate it until you're fully invested in the characters.

One point of caution: I found the story to be almost 'ho-hum' at certain points. There are too many Emma Bovary's in our culture, now: Carmella Soprano, Betty Friedan, the desperate housewives, that one woman in that movie you saw. But I'm glad I didn't stop! It's worth it to read to the end, to watch the tragedy unfold in such exquisite show more detail.

But this is perhaps the reason to read the book: it's a blueprint. You read it, and it takes you back to another century, when things were supposedly simpler, and you discover characters experiencing the same human elations and sufferings that we experience today.

There was no 'simpler time.' People are the same everywhere, and always have been. show less

Well, first let me say that I am 95% sure that I will never read this novel again. That is not to say that I'm not glad I read it, or that I disliked it particularly, more that I don't think I could put myself through it again.

* SPOILER ALERT *

It is a novel riddled with complex moral and social issues - and Emma Bovary is a complex anti-heroine. At times I felt sorry for her. She is a woman seeking something bigger for herself, something that her role as wife and mother can't offer her. But she is also a very silly character, reminding me somewhat of Catherine in Northanger Abbey in her futile pursuit of idle dreams. Every emotion coursing through her body is absolutely genuine and heartfelt - until disillusionment comes and it show more vapourises again. She is reaching for a love and a life that exists only in stories, a terminal case of greed, of always seeing that vibrant, greener grass on the other side of the fence, of vanity and utter selfishness. Yet have we not all occasionally felt unhappy with our lot in life? Can we not look around nowadays and see hundreds of selfish and deluded young people indulging their vanity and trying to win fame, fortune, more money, a richer partner?

Was Madame Bovary just too vain for her time? Should she have taken a long hard look at her life, at her loyal husband and little daughter, at her friends and her situation, and been content? Of course. But then, with such corruption dragging her down, could she be blamed entirely for her downfall? One of the most dreadful things about this novel is the violence of Emma's end, the torment of her descent into despair. Worse still is the fact that in the last chapter, the fairytale she has been seeking is utterly demolished: everyone who contributed to her downfall continues with their life, while those around her are ruined. While Berthe is poor, Charles dies of a broken heart and her father is paralysed, Homais is applauded, Lheureux continues to gain from others' ruin, and her two lovers walk away without so much as a word of recrimination or a twinge of remorse.

All in all, a novel that is valuable for its portrayal of society in the 19th century, including its ideas about women, marriage and adultery, religion, and about medical theories and advances. The characters are strongly drawn and as real in their complex and flawed personalities as any I've ever read. It raises questions, it provokes thought about blame and morality, it parallels certain worrying trends that continue into today's society... and despite everything, I was moved by Emma's tragic demise. But I think the repetitive nature of the novel - mistake, regret, repentence, repeat - and the unlikeable, unredeemable nature of the title Madame will stop it being a keeper for me.

* SPOILER END * show less

I had read this book some time in the distant past but when I saw the audiobook available on my library's electronic media site I thought it would be worth a listen. It was but it also bothered me a great deal. The tale is ultimately so tragic for Madame Bovary and her family and it seemed a high price to pay for essentially being an attractive woman.

If you don't know the story it is pretty simple but beware spoilers follow. Emma Bovary is a lovely young woman who attracts the attention of a doctor. They marry but Emma is not happy in the small village they live in. So the doctor decides to move to a larger town where Emma attracts the attention of more men. Her first flirtation is quite innocent with the young clerk who lives across show more the street. However, he leaves to pursue legal studies in Paris and Emma is bereft. She has a child but perhaps due to post-partum depression doesn't seem to bond with the child. Then a wealthy landowner, Rodolphe, notices Emma and woos and wins her. They have a passionate affair and, in time, Emma begs him to run away with her. He agrees but has no intention of doing so. Emma orders clothes and travelling chests incurring quite a debt. When Rodolphe finally sends her a note breaking off their affair she becomes ill. The debts she incurred come due and she has no way of paying them. She goes to Rodolphe to get money from him but he tells her he does not have it. Emma gets arsenic from the chemist, swallows it and dies in agony. Her husband dies soon after, no doubt of a broken heart. The young daughter goes to a cousin who puts her to work in a cotton factory. Although the Bovarys are destroyed, nothing seems to happen to Rodolphe who is the cause of the tragedy really. If Flaubert's intention was to show what disparity existed (and possibly still exists) between men and women then he succeeded admirably. show less

A doctor's wife, Emma Bovary, has adulterous affairs and lives beyond her means in order to escape the banalities and emptiness of provincial life.

Recently, I read a review of the new translation of Madame Bovary in the New York Times Book Review that suggested that no one could possibly sympathize with, or even like, Emma Bovary, probably one of the most famous characters in literature. The introduction to my copy of the novel intimates the same. But having recently read Madame Bovary, I am completely sympathetic with Emma, even if I don’t condone her actions.

All of us, especially those of us who are heavy readers, probably go through a phase of life in which we fantasize an exciting, adventurous future for ourselves, when we are show more swept up by great passion and every moment trembles with meaning. But then we grow up and discover that life is largely mundane, and most of us make our peace with that and find other means of contentment. However, Emma Bovary couldn’t bring herself to do that. Her relentless attempts to live a storybook fantasy lead her first to the Church, then to adulterous love affairs, then to bankruptcy and, ultimately, self destruction.

In many ways, Emma is a feminist figure. In 19th century France, the only choices for a woman of her class were the nunnery or marriage. Emma chose marriage, but when she became bored, she didn’t have the options that her male lovers did: to go to Paris or travel abroad or take another mistress. Perhaps if she had had more choices, she wouldn’t have destroyed herself and her family.

It’s not men who seduce Emma, but the novels she reads that lead her to believe that her life could be a passionate one rather than the dreary, day-to-day routine of the small village where her husband is a doctor. If we condemn her for refusing to be satisfied with a mundane life over which she really has no ownership, how are we any different from anyone who has ever insisted that women stay in their place? Certainly, Emma makes terrible choices in her almost hysterical pursuit of something — anything — that can fulfill her. But we can’t fault her for pursuing that. show less

***NO SPOILERS***

Gustave Flaubert’s beautiful way with words can’t compensate for Madame Bovary’s lackluster tale of Emma Bovary trapped in an unhappy marriage to boring Charles. It sounds like a soap opera--this premise that has been explored before--but unlike a soap opera, Madame Bovary lacks what makes soap operas so watchable for so many: drama and tension. Here the marriage is the focus, yet strangely, Flaubert never honed that focus nor did he keep the focus on the marriage for much of the book. Madame Bovary wanders off on numerous tangents--even opening on a tangent--that have no bearing on the plot. This makes for an uneven reading experience. Just when the main story involving Emma and Charles heats up, it switches show more gears to focus on an agricultural fair or soporific discussion of club feet.

The story’s biggest offense is its direct telling. The union between Emma and Charles is an unhappy one because Flaubert says it is. Emma falls in love with her lovers and they her just because; the actual falling in love is never shown. Similarly, Emma is unhappy with Charles simply because, according to Flaubert, Charles is dull. This is a story long on exposition and short on showing. Dialogue is scarce. Action is languid, with no urgency. There’s no hook.

At no point does Madame Bovary pull readers into the heart of the story and hold them right there. This is what happens when the couple at the center of the story isn’t well drawn. Flaubert sat down to write a story about a woman in crisis, whose marriage is a failure, whose husband she finds inadequate. This premise has so much potential for drama--but not if the two main characters are mere outlines. Flaubert shined the spotlight on Charles so infrequently that it’s hard to get a sense of him outside of what he does for a living; he interacts little with Emma except to fawn over her. Emma is insipid, self-absorbed, unsatisfied, and depressed, but this is all there is to her. These aren’t characters with life. Put them together, and they simply stand beside each other limply. There’s no being gripped by the mounting tension and drama as husband and wife slowly realize their marriage is disintegrating.

Nevertheless, the story is, at least, a good portrait of depression and despair. This focus may exasperate some readers, but Flaubert depicted the depth and emptiness of loss deftly--and he did so many times throughout. Some may complain this lends a sulky tone to Madame Bovary, and it's true that there are long, angsty (maybe melodramatic) passages; however, because of the care Flaubert took with authenticity, here Madame Bovary is shot through with realism.

The novel is most impressive for its writing, which is straightforward and accessible while also beautiful at times:

. . . the fiery glow that had reddened her pale sky grew gray and gradually vanished. In this growing inner twilight she even mistook her recoil from her husband for an aspiration toward her lover, the searing waves of hatred for a rekindling of love. But the storm kept raging, her passion burned itself to ashes, no help was forthcoming, no new sun rose on the horizon. Night closed completely around her, and she was left alone in a horrible void of piercing cold.

(See also the saved quotation below this review.) This is a review of the Francis Steegmuller translation, an excellent translation (save “innocent of stockings” for “barefoot”) that preserved Flaubert’s mastery of words. This is where Madame Bovary’s verve lies--in the words, not the story.

On the flip side, excessive description loses readers while once again taking the story down an annoyingly tangential path. In particular, Flaubert lovingly described his characters’ clothing and appearance, and landscapes received only slightly less attention. This could be chalked up to scene-setting, but it’s hard to argue how the number of flounces on a dress is relevant (or is even interesting). With the large cast of characters being mostly bland and extraneous, it looks like Flaubert hoped vivid descriptions of appearance could stand in for vivid characterization. In short, Madame Bovary’s artistic writing is what takes the breath away, not the story, which sounds more scandalous than it actually is. show less

I'm giving this a 5 star review and it may well be the finest book I've ever read, in spite of (or maybe because of) how difficult I found it as an actual experience emotionally. It can be extremely difficult to interact with a work of art where one character seems to capture so much of yourself, in both the positive and the negative sense, what you are and what you aspire to be in a more ideal form; even more so when it's a tale as tragic as this one, where it feels like watching a version of yourself be destroyed (and if this doesn't make it obvious; Madame Bovary, c'est moi). The first part of this book filled me with interest and wonderment at Flaubert's fluid prose, surprisingly minimal by 19th century standards but also so sublime show more and beautiful in its more fantastic passages, words composed with such wonder and precision that they feel at turns like they were carrying me away; the second part with anxiety knowing the ruin to which Emma's love affairs were leading her while understanding completely; and the third part knocked me sick to my stomach with sadness, the debts mounting, her life collapsing around her and all her dreams defiled one by one until her death and the demise of all those around her (an extra bitter pill when taken with the fact that the most detestable characters, i.e. Homais, Lheureux etc. are the ones who prosper in the end - but such is a social order where such mediocrities flourish). Fully understanding that Emma is a deeply flawed character in so many ways, to me this is a Romanticist tragedy where her fate was practically preordained - one can only hope that in her choice of death over final humiliation and escape from the cruelties of the temporal world she found the transcendence denied her in life, the "azure land" of her fantasies*. A soul-scalding ordeal I can't get out of my head (in the best possible way) and a marvel of literature - would that I could write with a tenth the human empathy, scorn, humour, understanding and eloquence that Flaubert did.

*I understand the common interpretation seems to be of this novel as a critique of romanticism but I feel like this is a somewhat superficial reading by itself which misses so much of how entwined Flaubert's own personality is with this, despite his protestations to the contrary; I agree with Baudelaire/Sartre on Emma as a heroic figure to a good degree, though not entirely with their reasoning as to why. May elaborate further in a future re-review but I'm still trying to process everything I went through in reading this and all the impressions and thoughts it left with me. show less