Ten Little Chances to be Free (
tenlittlebullets) wrote2009-03-20 12:34 am
I ♥ George Sand
Just finished Consuelo. (Which, BTW, I'm pretty sure is the only full-length novel I've read cover-to-cover in French. Novellas and plays? Yes. Most of Les Misérables? Yes, in fits and starts and terribly out of order. Started longer books without finishing? Yep. Finished anything over 150 pages? No, not really.)
I feel like I should say something deep about art and devotion and the redemption of humanity, and all those thoughts are rattling around loose in my brain, but the only thing I can pin down is: god damn, what is it with the Romantics and sepulchral wedding-nights. Seriously, you've got Quasimodo and Esmeralda crumbling into dust together, Hernani and Doña Sol poisoning each other before they can consummate their marriage, Albert dropping dead right after pronouncing his vows and Consuelo holding vigil over his corpse all night--not to mention, tangentially related, that lovely exhumation scene in La Dame aux Camélias. It's wonderfully morbid but good god it's getting repetitive.
I know, I know, trivial. I kvetch because secretly it makes my inner Romantic really happy. Or, well, not happy exactly but satisfied in that "O! Behold, the unity of the altar and the tomb opens up a pathway in my soul whose awe-inspiring passages have not been tread since the last time I read Childe Harold's Pilgrimage!" sort of way.
I feel like I should say something deep about art and devotion and the redemption of humanity, and all those thoughts are rattling around loose in my brain, but the only thing I can pin down is: god damn, what is it with the Romantics and sepulchral wedding-nights. Seriously, you've got Quasimodo and Esmeralda crumbling into dust together, Hernani and Doña Sol poisoning each other before they can consummate their marriage, Albert dropping dead right after pronouncing his vows and Consuelo holding vigil over his corpse all night--not to mention, tangentially related, that lovely exhumation scene in La Dame aux Camélias. It's wonderfully morbid but good god it's getting repetitive.
I know, I know, trivial. I kvetch because secretly it makes my inner Romantic really happy. Or, well, not happy exactly but satisfied in that "O! Behold, the unity of the altar and the tomb opens up a pathway in my soul whose awe-inspiring passages have not been tread since the last time I read Childe Harold's Pilgrimage!" sort of way.

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...one has to wonder if it's a conspiracy to keep Romantic heroines from ever having sex.
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Actually, "equal-opportunity purity" seems to apply so often (cp. Les Mis, which barges straight past equal-opportunity into affirmative-action purity) that I'm tempted to say the Romantics were just conspiring to keep any of their heroes from having sex. Ever.
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Chateaubriand's Atala who promised her mother to remain a virgin and poisons herself when she falls in love, Lamartine poems inspired by his real life never consummated love for a consumptive woman (who obviously dies), the spanish romantic version of don juan where he is redeemed by the chaste and pure love of a novice (although they both die before their love is consummated), etc...
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anyway, two of the characters in the second play are obsessed with Consuelo generally, and all the young women in the first two plays are obsessed with George Sand in general. It's a wonderful thread of dorkiness that Stoppard added to tie Natalie Herzen to the Bakunin sisters.
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Oh man, now I want to read this. I love over-the-top melodrama. And luckily it won't get repetitive for me because I haven't read any of the books you mentioned. *g* (Although I *feel* like I've read Notre-Dame de Paris because I read ever synopses ever when I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on in the musical . . . )
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And my gigantic historical crush on George Sand just continues to grow.
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It's kind of wonderful.
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Oh, I'm definitively putting Consuelo high up on my to-read list!