Chéri

The lengthy final section of this novella decided it for me. I had been asking myself if this were a good book or sentimental kitsch. Of course, sentimental kitsch might be your idea of good book, but tastes differ.
The first third of the narrative had been told largely from the point of view of Léa, an aging courtesan who has permitted herself the luxury of a boy toy, her “Chéri,” who just happens to be the indolent, insolent son of her best frenemy. She oscillates between intoxication at his physical beauty and irritation over his bothersome personality. This ends when he announces he will soon marry. They agree to end their five-year affair.
Léa leaves town and disappears from the narrative. The middle section switches to show more Fred’s point of view. That is Chéri’s given name, which Léa never uses. He soon feel trapped in his marriage. His bride is rich, young, beautiful, and vapid. After the challenge of jousting with his “Nounoune,” as he calls Léa, he becomes restless and disappears for three months. The narrative follows him in his dissipation. He stays out to all hours, drinks too much, dabbles in drugs — does everything, in fact, except the one thing his wife and mother both assume he has done: have one last romance before settling down to married life.
Toward the end of his binge, he haunts Léa’s home. When a light in the window shows that she has returned to Paris, the stage is set for the dénouement. Léa has become philosophical, accepting that she will now live the life of an old woman (she is just turned 50; a century ago, that was old, especially for one who has lived on her beauty). She has retired for the night, but at midnight Chéri appears at her door. The remainder of the book is one final jousting tournament between these two who are obsessed with the other.
The author animates both characters here, but explores more deeply the ever-shifting feelings and perceptions of Léa. They make love. Here is where I began to fear the worst, since prose about love-making is often embarrassingly bad. Colette pulls it off, though, which saved the book for me. Her handling of the morning after, in particular, impressed me.
I selected this book as a way to brush up my French. It wasn’t too thick, so I thought it wouldn’t take me as long as it does to read Flaubert. I have a good grasp of basic French vocabulary — the most common four-to-five thousand words — but in reading this, there was hardly a page on which I didn’t have to look up at least four words. When this happens, it’s often a sign that the author has gone all pretentious and abstract (I’m looking at you, Sartre), but in this case, it’s because Colette chooses very concrete, specific vocabulary. The names of trees, flowers, articles of clothing, and body parts abound. The result is languid and sensuous, much like the two characters.
My final impression is that this book is all the more an impressive achievement because of what it risked. Instead of being a sentimental tear-jerker, it is a sensitive exploration of what a less-complicated age liked to call the war of the sexes. show less

In "Mrs. Dalloway," Peter Walsh privately criticizes French novelists by asserting that there is more to life than going to bed with a woman. Well, Colette's a French novelist, and she disagrees. One of the wonderful things about Colette is that it seems entirely concerned with love and sex, though the latter is only suggested and never described explicitly. The novel might be criticized for lacking narrative drive -- it is, after all, a book about feelings and little else -- but Colette sculpts its central characters so skillfully that it's not surprise that they've passed into literary immortality. There's the sympathetic Léa, an aging courtesan who works to ward off both the effects of age and undisciplined passion, and the show more beautiful, disdainful, Cheri himself, whose unfathomable personality might be called the book's dark center. Since "Cheri" is, after all, about courtesans who catered to a very select group of the French aristocracy there's a lot of money and tasteful luxury on display here, and I couldn't help feeling that a sense of nostalgia hung over the entire book. I found myself wondering if this had something to do with the First World War -- plenty of young men of Cheri's generation died in trenches just a few years after this book takes place. "Cheri," then, might be considered not just a fond, though melancholy, remembrance of a love affair, but of a sort of lost golden age as well. If so, it might also be said that it's too sentimental to be a really great work, and perhaps that's true. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth your time. show less

‘Chéri’ merits the term confection - reading this novella is a little like eating a chocolate eclair. The titular Chéri is a beautiful, spoiled, and capricious young man who reminded me somewhat of Daisy in [b:The Great Gatsby|4671|The Great Gatsby|F. Scott Fitzgerald|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1438728255s/4671.jpg|245494]. Like her, he seems to exist mainly to be ornamental. We see him largely through the eyes of Léa, his lover. She is twenty-four years older than him and is utterly in charge of the relationship. I liked her very much and appreciated her intelligence and self-awareness, qualities that only the older women of the novella appeared to possess.

The main joy of this book, though, is a the glorious decadence show more of the setting. Not that much actually takes place, but all that does occurs whilst the characters are swathed in pearls, silk, and lace. Even in bed; in fact, especially in bed. The latter years of the Belle Époque are brought to life. I was more interested in details of the luxurious meals, splendid hats, and elegant furnishings than the emotions involved, to be honest. show less

Wonderful! Maybe not the most accomplished work of literature ever, but exactly the bit of sentimental nonsense I wanted it to be. I read it in French, watched the recent movie, and read it again in English (a terrible, bowdlerized translation) all within a week. Lea is a magnificent, flawed, yet entirely sympathetic tragic heroine, and Colette's descriptions of Cheri's perfect beauty are stirring, but the unexpected gender/power play is the best part of this novel.

The first book I've read by Colette, Cheri is sensual, lethargic and must have been quite scandalous when it was first published in 1920. It tells the story of the courtesan Lea, who has spent the past six years of her life indulging and educating a friend's spoiled, selfish son in the pleasures of life. When he is due to be married, she has to disentangle herself from him - a task which comes to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

I can understand why people might not like this book. After all, Cheri himself is profoundly unsympathetic. The supporting cast of aging courtesans, with their pretensions to gentility and their gossiping, two-faced friendship, feel like the denizens of a Toulouse-Lautrec print. But I thoroughly show more enjoyed it.

It has been quite some time since I've sat down with a book which has revelled with so much unalloyed pleasure in the mastery of language. Much of the credit must go to Roger Senhouse for his English translation, which manages to be subtly sardonic as well as elegiac. Second, as a Wilde fan I thought there was a definite feel about it of Dorian Gray: the infatuation of the older generation for the younger, as if they're courting their own youth again; and the fact that gorgeous outward looks can hide a rather nasty and immature character beneath. And then, third, it's a delicious exploration of the female gaze. Cheri is described in the kind of languid prose that reminded me at times of Death in Venice, and Colette's work delves into all the psychological complexity of an older woman infatuated by a beautiful boy.

It's a short book, but for liveliness of language and freshness of spirit, it completely captured me. I'm looking forward to reading some more of Colette's work; and would anyone recommend the recent film of Cheri? Or is it best to steer well clear? show less

I read this book in readiness for a group discussion. There are lots of positive reviews around so clearly many readers find much to enjoy here. I have never rated a book one star before.

The basic plot is very straightforward (and as it was on cover of my edition I don't think the story is meant to be the point): 25 year old Chéri (real name Fred), the son of a wealthy courtesan, has been in a long term relationship with 49 year old Léa, a friend of his mother. Chéri gets married, stops seeing Léa, misses her, and goes back to her. There's a bit more to it but that's it in a nutshell.

The story is described in a deadpan manner, all surface and appearance. There is no reference to the characters' emotions or inner lives. There's not show more even any sex scenes - not that I wanted any, I just wondered if this was part of the book's appeal. It reminded me of a sumptuous soft focus television advert for chocolates where wafty material is gently blown by the breeze from an open window, whilst glamorous, smug, well dressed characters lounge around. This is luxury's disappointment writ large - a joyless, shallow, petty place where spoiled characters occupy boudoirs, wear silk and satin, pearls and call servants, whilst boring themselves and each other - and it left me waving the white flag at page 64 (of a total of 122). Despite being mercifully short I still couldn't get through it.

I now know I have no interest in the pre-World War 1 Parisian demimonde. As I stated, many readers rate this book highly, however there was nothing here for me. show less

Nothing like a flight to another city to help you start and finish a book in one sitting. This is the first Colette I've read despite my mother and grandmother constantly telling me that a French person has to read Colette and that they've read all the works. Granted those two have collectively read the works of seemingly every author that has every written a book but that's besides the point.

As is typical of a classic French book published way in the day, the pages were tinted brown and smelled of that old book scent where you expect to see a cloud of dust fall from the pages. More importantly, there was no summary on the back cover to tell me what I was about to read. Only the simple line "this is more than the story of a gigolo". show more Interesting, yes, okay, I'm going to read about a gigolo.

The story starts with the introduction of our major characters, Lea and Cheli. Lea is a middle-aged retired courtesan who has taken under her wing the child of her former competitor. However, the son, Cheli, has grown up to be a privileged bratty man who feels entitles to luxuries beyond his own abilities. And in the 7 years that Lea has been looking over the now 25-year old Cheli, they have developed a sexual relationship which seems to be under the control of Lea until Cheli leaves to get married. Upon his absence Lea discovers an emptiness she did not expect.

Refusing to feed into her feelings she decides to leave upon which Cheli notes the toll her absence takes on him.

It's an interesting tale despite the very unlikeable characters. It could be easily confused as a love story but it's not. The two characters have basically created a sense of love but it's really just a sense of false longing due to absence of routine. Lea unknowningly created herself a companion which, upon their absence, will obviously create a whole. While Cheli has always been the youth, the young handsome man, the spirited and lively unbridled and unrestricted man. He was doted upon by an older woman and to be thrown into a marriage where he is now the older man and is supposed to take the role of caregiver through him violently into reality. So the ending is quite good considering this and makes sense. And actually, it is almost refreshing to see a non-traditional ending as might be expected now.

All in all it was an interesting read. I think being stuck on a plane helped me get through it considering the unlikeable characters but at least now I can say that I've read Colette. show less