The Fortunes of the Rougons - Emile Zola

 Finally, I found where to begin with Zola's Rougon-Macquart sequence.   Some of the novels I have already read and reviewed here belong to the cycle (The Belly of Paris, The Debacle, Germinal) but I wanted to start at the undisputed beginning.   That is here, with The Fortunes of the Rougons (1871).

The book is set in December 1851, when a coup d'etat in Paris installed Napoleon III and the Second Empire.   The key events were in Paris but there were also popular uprisings all over the country, including Provence.   Zola was partly raised in Aix-en-Provence which here he renames Plassans.

Zola made a key decision - to confine the action to Plassans and its immediate neighbourhood.   Action elsewhere is brought in by letter and, to a much lesser extent, newspapers.   There is a key period in the month when nobody in Plassans knows what is happening elsewhere.   Pierre Rougon, a middleaged bourgois, has a son in Paris who keeps him as up-to-date as he can.   Backed by his ambitious wife Felicite, Pierre seizes control of the town and acts as mayor - the actual mayor having been taken prisoner by the local insurgents.

The complicating factor, the stroke of authorial brilliance, is that Rougon's implacable enemy is his half-brother Antoine Macquart, who sets himself up as a rebel purely to oppose Pierre.   There was also a half-sister, Ursule, who married and moved away.   One of her sons has married one of Pierre's daughters, the other, seventeen year-old Silvere, is living in Plassans with his grandmother, the half-mad eccentric 'Aunt Dide'.

Silvere begins and ends the novel.   It begins with him and his thirteen year-old sweetheart waiting to join the army of insurgents heading their way.   The rebels pass through Plassans at dead of night, simply capturing a trio of big wigs they happen upon and moving on.   Around the midpoint of the book there is a battle in which the rebels are defeated.   Miette is killed, Silvere captured.   It ends with him being returned to Plassans where a gendarme he accidentally injured executes him.

Zola's second key decision is the way in which he includes the necessary back story.   There is a lot of it and it has to go in because, as he tells us in the preface, Zola's purpose is to prove that "Heredity, like gravity, has its laws."   Yet it must not be allowed to outweigh or unbalance the narrative.   So in Chapter One he deals with the rebels passing through Plassans and leaving with Silvere and Miette.   Chapter Two describes Plassans waking the next day, speculating on what happened.   Thus we meet people who live there and the relationships between some of them.   We meet the Rougons.   Pierre is embarrassed by his mother and half-siblings.   We then go back fifty years to when Dide was widowed and took up with the poacher Macquart, who sired Antoine and Ursule.

And so on...   The book hops backward and forwards in time in substantial chunks.   This means we always know when and where we are and are always uncovering more insights into the main characters.   By the end of the book this is what we are expecting, so Zola cleverly does something different.   The first clues to Silvere's death are delivered in what seems like a waking dream of Aunt Dide.   Even she does not know if it is real or not.   Antoine and Pierre both assume she is talking about the long-gone poacher Macquart and his lifelong war with the gendarmerie.   But no, Dide actually witnessed the death of her grandson while out buying brandy for Antoine - and wow, does that hit home.

I've been spending a lot of time recently considering the French Naturalists and Realists, notably the trio of Zola, Maupassant and Huysmans.   The fact is, I enjoy them all.   The Fortunes of the Rougons I particularly enjoyed.

Next question: do I continue in publication order or in the order recommended by whoever wrote the Wikipedia  essay?

Pierre and Jean - Guy de Maupassant

 Pierre and Jean is not the novel Maupassant writes about in his famous introductory essay, 'The Novel.'   Indeed, the essay is more famous than the novel that follows.   The essay is Maupassant's only critical work, whereas he wrote hundreds of short stories and five or six novels in his single full decade as an author.   In it he explains why the psychological novel is bound to fail - because the only psychology we are really familiar with is our own.   He then gives us, in Pierre and Jean, a psychological novel.

It is primarily the psychology of Pierre which dominates.   The Roland brothers of Le Havre are unusually fraternal.   Pierre has qualified as a doctor, Jean a lawyer; both are living with their parents while they lay the foundations for a career.   Both are enamoured with the pretty widow Madame Rosemilly and maintain an amicable rivalry.

Then, out of the blue, an old family friend bequeathes his fortune to the younger brother, Jean.   Pierre is initially happy for his brother.   Then the questions start in his head.   Why Jean, not him?   Why not half each?   Questions become suspicions.   Suspicions fester, poisoning Pierre's relationship with his brother and, especially, their mother.

Maupassant is a naturalisr.   He knows that in the real world these things result in compromise, not tragedy.   Arrangements are made, an outcome acceptable to all parties is negotiated.   And so it is here.  The lives of all four main characters are changed but not ruined.   The door to rapproachment is left open.

And it is beautifully done, the work of a master at the height of his powers.   It is not really a novel, of course, only 130 pages.   But every page is packed with life and detail, to a much greater extent than a short story.   The cast is small, four principals and three or four bit-part-players, all expertly characterised, the action continuous and compressed.   It's the perfect novella.

Bel-Ami - Guy de Maupassant

 I remember the BBC adaptation of Bel-Ami when I was still at school, but I had never read it or, indeed, very much of Maupassant's works.   I bought a copy a month or so ago as background reading for a couple of projects I'm working on.   I also bought a book, Some French Writers, which I will review later, when I've finished it.   I have read the chapter of Maupassant, though, which includes this:

Bel-Ami reads like nothing so much as a monstrous dream.   Is it imaginable that so basely loathsome a creature as Georges Duroy - a cur as well as a scoundrel, a man of only the lowest degree of intelligence and most vulgar type of physical good looks - should start at page 1 from the gutter, and at page 441 be the husband of a charming young wife, the lover of every desirable woman that he has met, the owner of millions of money (francs, to be sure, but that is bad enough) and moreover a person of political as well as social power and prestige?

That was published in book form in 1893, less than a decade after the book (1885) was written.   It was previously published in the Fortnightly Review and may have been written while Maupassant was still alive.    Regarding which the author, Edward Delille, says: "I cannot help believing that if Bel-Ami and Mont-Oriol, in particular, may be regarded as exact presentments of contemporary society in France, then perhaps M. Guy de Maupassant's madness may have causes and excuses."   For those who don't know, Maupassant had syphilis which progressed to the tertiary stage.   He tried to slit his throat but was prevented from dying and spent his final year in a specialist asylum.   He died there in July 1893, aged 42.

In fairness, Delille does admit that Bel-Ami is superficially attractive and definitely well-written.   I found it to be a masterpiece, full of colour and character and compelling detail.   Is Georges Dural immoral?   Yes.   Is he a monster?   No.   He is amoral.   He doesn't make his women do anything they don't want to do.   He has one mistress throughout, Madame de Marelles.   She is married and therefore not available for Georges to marry.   It is noteworthy that Georges does not have sex with either of his two wives before marriage.   He plots to marry them, obviously, but doesn't everyone?   His first wife, Madeleine, is complicit in his career-building and is soon having an affair of her own with a leading politician.   Georges does seduce his boss's wife, Madame Walter, but she wholeheartedly indulges whilst her husband makes millions in a financial scam.   Georges's second wife, Suzanne, is the Walters' daughter.   Georges elopes with her but they very pointedly do not sleep together.   The novel effectively ends with their marriage.

The fact is, Georges deploys his only talent - attractiveness to women - to his advantage.   Those who he is involved with, male and female, are complicit in his rise.   It could be said that he is the product of a corrupt society.   Maupassant does not pass judgment.   He describes the world as he sees it and he does so brilliantly.   I found Bel-Ami less stark than Zola, more humane than Huysmans.   Maupassant was famously the pupil of Flaubert, whom I haven't yet read, so can't comment.   The final touch of genius, for me, in Bel-Ami is not make Duroy a hero.   You can make excuses for him right up to the point, towards the end, where he loses control and beats up Madame de Marelles.   The final twist is that she is there, nevertheless, at his second wedding.   She takes his hand and gently squeezes.   She is content for their affair to continue...   Wow.

Marthe - J K Huysmans

 Marthe is the debut novel of Huysmans, the ultimate novelist of French decadence at the end of the nineteenth century, so bad, so obscene that no British publisher dared issue a translation.   Actually, one publisher, Kegan Paul, did dare, but only the late 'Catholic' novels and only when he was at death's door and it didn't matter any more.

Pompous bluestockings are always on the lookout for something to ban.   The fact is Huysmans was a realist.   He was enthused by Zola's pseudo-scientific theories of experimental realism but he, in practice, led the way with Marthe.   Zola blatantly copies Marthe in Nana but does not dare to go as far as Huysmans.   Zola's heroine starts off in the theatre and rises from there.   Marthe is first seen in the theatre but that is the highpoint of her career.   She is and remains a whore.   Her young lover finds normalcy after leaving her.   Her elderly actor lover ends up on the mortuary table after she dumps him.   Inbetween Marthe is the kept mistress of a married man she cares so little about that his name is never mentioned.

Huysmans had to self-publish Marthe in Belgium.   Imports were banned in France, any copies seized and destroyed as obscene.   The truth is, the characters are immoral but there is no obscenity.   We are given reality, sordid, sad, but ultra real, even down to the details.  The actor beats Marthe, showing off to his drunken mates.   The married man who keeps her wears pink silk tights.

It sounds grubby and depressing.   It might be a shortcoming on my part, but I found it fascinating, thrilling and restorative.   I enjoyed it more than the better known Down There (reviewed here in 2021) because the core subject (unsuitable passion, the degradation of poverty, and indeed debased theatricals) are themes I have encountered and witnessed.   I bought the book for a research project, started reading as a chore, only to be swept away by Huysman's brilliant technique.   I have become a Zola fan over recent years but Huysmans intrigues me more.

Down There - J K Huysmans

 

The ultimate fin de siecle degenerate novel, so they say.  In fact La Bas is an academic discussion about the state of French literature at the end of the Nineteenth Century.  It was decadent, certainly, but that does not make a book about it decadent.  Durtal, our unheroic hero, is a middleaged novelist who has followed the naturalism of Zola about as far as it will go and found it lacking substance.  What he misses is the human soul.  So he sets out to bring naturalism and psyche together in a historical study of Gilles de Rais, the notorious 'Bluebeard' of medieval France.

Gilles de Rais interests Durtal because he started out as a pious soldier, the most important ally of Joan of Arc.  But after Joan's execution and the end of the war with England he becomes dissolute, debauched and appallingly depraved.  After he has defiled, butchered and discarded countless young children he is finally brought to book.  At his trial he confesses everything but recovers his Christian faith to such an extent that the parents of his victims escort him to his death, praying for his salvation.

Durtal wants to wallow in faith of the medieval kind.  He befriends the bellringer of St Surplice and through him an eccentric astrologer who claims he is being murdered remotely by a priest who has gone rogue and now celebrates the Black Mass.  It is the Black Mass which Durtal ultimately witnesses that gives the book its reputation.  Actually, this is nothing at all alarming, more childish than satanic.  What really did raise my eyebrows was what startled me a couple of years ago when I read Zola.  It's the sex.  Durtal finds himself being seduced by the wife of another dining companion and sleeps with her only because she can get him admitted to the Black Mass.

The end of the novel is something of an anticlimax.  The rest of it is absolutely fascinating.

La Bete Humaine - Emile Zola

Zola's naturalism at its most extreme, humanity reduced to its most bestial. La Bete Humaine is really tough going. Everybody is determined to kill everyone else. Roubaud and Severine murder Grandmorin on the train between Paris and Le Havre. This takes place near the signal box run by Misard and the level crossing operated by his stepdaughter Flore. Misard is slowing poisoning his wife for her inheritance and Flore kills a dozen people because she is infatuated with her foster brother Jacques. Jacques's little problem is that he wants to murder every woman who excites him. He thinks that Severine has helped him over this minor difficulty and joins in her plan to murder her husband Roubaud. This is more than a tangled web. This is crazy. Yet Zola's gifts as a storyteller somehow carry the reader forward. It is one of those books you are going to finish, whether you like it or not. Personally, I'm not sure whether I like it. I certainly admire it. And I'm definitely glad I read it.