Beautiful, Doug. I love the last line. I remember reading AK in fitful bursts while my first daughter napped. I should read it again when I'm not so distracted. Hope you're well. I miss our talks!
Thank you, Sarah. And by the way, wonderful news about your book! Congratulations. I do love the idea of reading the Russians with a baby napping next to you. Did you read any of it out lout to her? (Maybe she was too young for the material.)
Thank you, Doug. I see from your wonderful posts that you’re still deeply enmeshed in your family history as well. I’m glad it hasn’t yet smothered you to death ;)
I want you to know that every time I added a repetitive phrase or image in my book, I thought, “Doug would be so proud of me.”
It's always such a privilege to read you on literature. This is quite brilliant as always. Will you be writing on all three novels you mentioned? I'd love to hear your thoughts on Emma Bovary, who is (as inappropriately as it sounds), my favourite literary suicide. Flaubert spends most of the narrative fretting about the language of realism - are these words good enough? Oh look how quickly the freshly minted coin tarnishes! - and then when he reaches Emma's death he moves into fifth gear, tells it straight and brutal and devastating. It's like the narrative itself realises it's wasted 400 pages on silly people being silly, but now finally with authenticity beneath its feet, here is an act that is violent, raw and ugly enough to suit it perfectly.
Thanks, Victoria. Yes, I'm going to write about the others, possibly in a gradual reveal sort of way. I know what you mean about Emma Bovary's death, devastating but also prolonged. I can imagine it putting off anyone contemplating taking rat poison to end it all. I was just reading about the new death capsule being developed in Switzerland. The reporter called the the Tesla of assisted suicide. But not to dwell. I really liked your "silly people being silly" line about the rest of the novel, everything preceding Emma's death throes. Maybe I have too many thoughts about this to put down here. To an extent, most novels are about silly people being silly; this is defined by the middle-class material of the form. Some writers make that funny and some can write it in sadness. Flaubert is just scathing. His idea of realism is to expose all peccadilloes and watch the people squirm. And he prolongs it, as if prolonging his scenes was part of his definition of realism. (I think of the two big sex scenes, one during the fair and one in the moving carriage. The latter is pretty funny for a while.) I perceive that I am thinking in the comment box and these are just half-formed ideas. So I'll stop. This is what always happens when you and I talk. I'll have these ideas in a better form when I write the post. As always, it's lovely to hear what you are thinking.
I’m going to have to reread Anna Karenina now. (Again!). I’ll be wildly interested in learning your thoughts on Lily Bart. That one I’ve reread at least a dozen times. I have my own opinion on her death at the end, one that’s pretty firm, though Wharton was so clever about that ending that she has spawned a century-long debate about it. Oh, to write so well…
Beautiful, Doug. I love the last line. I remember reading AK in fitful bursts while my first daughter napped. I should read it again when I'm not so distracted. Hope you're well. I miss our talks!
Thank you, Sarah. And by the way, wonderful news about your book! Congratulations. I do love the idea of reading the Russians with a baby napping next to you. Did you read any of it out lout to her? (Maybe she was too young for the material.)
Thank you, Doug. I see from your wonderful posts that you’re still deeply enmeshed in your family history as well. I’m glad it hasn’t yet smothered you to death ;)
I want you to know that every time I added a repetitive phrase or image in my book, I thought, “Doug would be so proud of me.”
It's always such a privilege to read you on literature. This is quite brilliant as always. Will you be writing on all three novels you mentioned? I'd love to hear your thoughts on Emma Bovary, who is (as inappropriately as it sounds), my favourite literary suicide. Flaubert spends most of the narrative fretting about the language of realism - are these words good enough? Oh look how quickly the freshly minted coin tarnishes! - and then when he reaches Emma's death he moves into fifth gear, tells it straight and brutal and devastating. It's like the narrative itself realises it's wasted 400 pages on silly people being silly, but now finally with authenticity beneath its feet, here is an act that is violent, raw and ugly enough to suit it perfectly.
Thanks, Victoria. Yes, I'm going to write about the others, possibly in a gradual reveal sort of way. I know what you mean about Emma Bovary's death, devastating but also prolonged. I can imagine it putting off anyone contemplating taking rat poison to end it all. I was just reading about the new death capsule being developed in Switzerland. The reporter called the the Tesla of assisted suicide. But not to dwell. I really liked your "silly people being silly" line about the rest of the novel, everything preceding Emma's death throes. Maybe I have too many thoughts about this to put down here. To an extent, most novels are about silly people being silly; this is defined by the middle-class material of the form. Some writers make that funny and some can write it in sadness. Flaubert is just scathing. His idea of realism is to expose all peccadilloes and watch the people squirm. And he prolongs it, as if prolonging his scenes was part of his definition of realism. (I think of the two big sex scenes, one during the fair and one in the moving carriage. The latter is pretty funny for a while.) I perceive that I am thinking in the comment box and these are just half-formed ideas. So I'll stop. This is what always happens when you and I talk. I'll have these ideas in a better form when I write the post. As always, it's lovely to hear what you are thinking.
I’m going to have to reread Anna Karenina now. (Again!). I’ll be wildly interested in learning your thoughts on Lily Bart. That one I’ve reread at least a dozen times. I have my own opinion on her death at the end, one that’s pretty firm, though Wharton was so clever about that ending that she has spawned a century-long debate about it. Oh, to write so well…