Jen and I are reading Madame Bovary (right, Jen?) and invite others to join us. Why are we reading Flaubert? Because so many damn people have made such a stinkin big deal about it. So fine! We'll read it. We'll try to figure out how we feel about Emma Bovary. And maybe, if you're really nice to us and don't give us a hard time about taking THIS LONG to read this CLASSIC BOOK, we'll blog about it.
So far my biggest complaint is that I'm reading an old mass market edition that I probably picked up from my sister, who probably had to read it in high school and anyway, the damn type bleeds right into the gutter and practically falls off the page and so the reading experience is so BAD that I'm actually thinking of ordering another copy from Books, Inc. (unfortunately, since I'm leaving for Nebraska tomorrow, I won't have time.)
So, yes, when reading a novel, the reading experience IS important. Take that, iPhone, and figure it out.
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7 comments:
But, if you ask nicely, Flaubert can come to you.
Books Inc. delivers, or didn't you know that?
If you'd like a fresh edition from Penguin, just whistle.
Emma was hot.
i started reading Sentimental Education in 1990.
i'm almost done. or halfway through.
just back from squaw where I was not reading madame bovary. but madame bovary is coming with me up to seattle on wednesday and we will see how it goes. Also want to give credit (blame??) where credit is do. It was Ms. Nami Mun who officially hatched this "we all have to read madame bovary" plan. So hopefully we will hear from her too. Nami? Are you out there?
uh, yeah. that would be due, not do.
Things got interesting on page 137 of my crappy edition, when Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger, shortly after meeting Emma, says to himself, "Three flattering words and she'd adore me, I'm sure. How tender and charming it would be. But how would I get rid of her later?"
Then, of course, the fact that all Emma needs to be convinced by her husband to go horse-back riding with Rodolphe is the promise of a riding habit. A woman must have her priorities.
Flaubert's contempt for the whole lot of them is deliciously snobby; He's contemptuous of their snobbiness, too, and therefore a terrifically hypocritical narrator. That dastardly back cover copy promises me redemption at the end. We'll see.
Jen, Forget Flaubert for the moment: I'm anxiously awaiting for your blog entry on the Community of Writers conference. -El
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