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As we get to know Renoir we get to know his contemporaries, too. Jean Renoir writes about Monet, Cezanne, Manet, Sisley and many other great artists. We learn many "little known" facts, such as Monet's penchant for lace and his "artful" way with the ladies.
Paris really comes alive in this book. Many of the places Renoir writes about still exist and can be visited today. This book makes any art lover's trip to Paris more meaningful whether he's a Renoir fan or not.
When reading this book, one must remember that this is not a "run of the mill" biography. This is a son writing about the father he adored. The portrait we are given is very intimate, detailed and loving. It's obvious that Jean Renoir adored his father, just as Auguste Renoir adored his family.
Ultimately, this book is a beautiful tribute from a loving son to a father who was one of history's consummate artists. If you have any interest at all in art, this is one book you simply must not pass up. The last page alone will break your heart.
Jean Renoir is a very famous artist in his own right, having made numerous films and become one of the most acclaimed directors in French cinema history. Here he has taken great pains to paint a fine portrait of his renowned father, this time with a pen. He has succeeded admirably.
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"Bel-Ami" is hardly an original premise. How many books written through the years discuss the idea of a rural man heading to the city to make it big? That is exactly what happens with this book in the form of main character Georges Duroy. After a five-year stint in the French army, Duroy moves to Paris to make his fortune. Regrettably, Duroy is languishing in a lowly job as a railroad clerk until he meets his old army buddy Forestier. From this point forward, Georges is on the fast track to success. Forestier gets him a job at a scandal rag named "La Vie Francaise" where Georges rapidly ascends the ranks from lowly reporter to chief editor. Along the way, Duroy engages in all sorts of amorous adventures with women both high and low on the Paris social register. By the time the story ends, Georges is within sight of the highest positions in French society, all accomplished through sheer cunning and social maneuvering.
There are so many themes running through this sordid tale of the decadent Third Republic that it is impossible to adequately describe them all here. The introduction to this Penguin edition, written by translator Douglas Parmee, does a good job of showing how incidents in Maupassant's life appear in the character of Georges Duroy. The protagonist's rural background, his experience in France's North African expeditions, his work as a reporter and the subsequent expose of the seediness of journalism, the numerous affairs, the social positioning, and the philosophical musings on death are all expressions of Maupassant's personality and activities. I do hope, however, that Maupassant was not as big of a cad as Georges Duroy because this character may be one of the biggest jerks in the history of literature.
You cannot help but hate Duroy. He has little self-control except when he realizes that holding off on a conquest might mean self-advancement. Georges takes his mistress to the same theater where he picks up prostitutes, takes money from people without paying them back, corrupts women of high moral standards, sleeps with his boss's wife, seduces his boss's daughter, and physically assaults his mistress. There is just no way to sympathize with this guy, and the fact that he gains riches and fame is particularly galling to anyone with any sense of decency. But that is the message De Maupassant is trying to convey; that the complete decadence of French society during this time allows the likes of Duroy to succeed, and to succeed with a smile. Witness the scene towards the end of the book when Walter, Duroy's boss, grudgingly accedes his daughter to Georges's slimy scheme. "He will go far," says Walter, with more respect for Duroy's distasteful achievement than disdain for his lack of morals.
Another theme in the book, and one that runs through the pages like a 400-pound gorilla, is hypocrisy. The propensities for backstabbing, lying, and blatant disregard for self-realization in "Bel-Ami" is laugh out loud astonishing. These are shallow, manipulative people without a shred of decency, and Maupassant never passes up an opportunity to expose these despicable people. The hypocritical stance of the characters and situations often vie with powerfully descriptive passages of Paris and the French countryside, which are truly beautiful to read and have probably accounted for thousands of tourist trips to that country. The characters in "Bel-Ami" may be of no account morally, but they move and live in an environment of unsurpassed beauty.
Maupassant's knowledge of his own impending death weighs heavily in the story. Two sections highlight his musings on mortality: the monologue of the poet Norbert de Varenne and the death of Forestier. For the author, his slow deterioration from a disease made death a daily reality. What seemed to worry De Maupassant the most about death was not punishment from God but the idea of nothingness and being forgotten by the living. Of course, death makes no impression on Georges Duroy, who experiences only a moderate twinge over the passing of Forestier before making a play for that man's wife in order to improve his social position.
I am elated that I discovered this author. Guy De Maupassant is a brilliant writer whose early death robbed the world of a great talent. Although his short stories are considered some of the best ever written, do not pass by this novel. I have rarely seen an author who can write about mundane, daily situations with as much aplomb (see the scene about the fencing party as a prime example). De Maupassant's masterful abilities make this ordinary plot strikingly original and I will revisit this author again in the future. You should too.
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The imprisoned narrator "Jean," who may or may not be identical with the author, masturbates regularly; like a perpetual motion machine, his fantasies fuel his writing and his writing spurs on his fantasies in turn. Nothing illustrates this more than the brief scene in which self - sustaining "Jean" describes his Tiamat.... Legs thrown over shoulders, "Jean" is not only the serpent that eats its tail but becomes a small, circular, self - imbibing universe all his own. A motto attributed to the alchemists could be the narrator's own: "Every man his own wife."
Though the narrative is not the primary focus of this or any of Genet's novels, most responsible critics have failed to remark on the fact that the narrative of Our Lady Of The Flowers is the least compelling of any found in his five major novels. Our Lady Of The Flowers, does, however, lay the basic groundwork for the novels to come: The Miracle Of The Rose, Funeral Rites, Querelle, and The Thief's Journal (all written between 1944 and 1948).
While Our Lady Of The Flowers is Genet's only novel to feature a predominantly effeminate homosexual man (Divine, who is at least partially a transvestite) as its protagonist ("Our Lady Of The Flowers," a virile young thug, is a secondary character), most of the other elements of the book will be very familiar to those who have read the balance of his fiction. Transvestites and transvestite figures abound, as do handsome, amoral, and homosexual or bisexual "toughs," jokes and extended vignettes concerned with lice, flatulence, constipation, and feces, mordant examinations of manhood and the criminal's code of honor, obsession with personal power through emotional betrayal, the long vagabond road to "sainthood," theft, masochistic love, prostitution, and vivid examples of the way in which physical desire and sexuality secretly and subtly fuel, in Genet's view, almost every aspect of life. As in portions of his other novels, the characters here, even the swaggering, virile young men, are known among their friends by fey pet names like "Darling Daintyfoot," "Mimosa," and "Our Lady of the Flowers," which are intended to be simultaneously affectionate and mocking. To further confuse, Divine is referred to as a "he" and referred to his surname during his youth and as a "she" and "Divine" in maturity. As in the Miracle of the Rose and Funeral Rites, characters mesh into one another, exchange identities, and move backward and forward through time at the narrator's whim. Both "Jean" and the individual characters fuse their own and each other's personalities together as needed, and all occasionally lose control of this process: but Jean Genet, master puppeteer, never does.
Genet's readers are probably aware of the existence of haughty establishment critics who pretentiously embrace Genet's work but nonetheless treat it like something best held at the end of a very long stick. "Evil" is the word most commonly used to describe Genet's fiction by stuffy, anxious middlebrow critics who, while distressingly stimulated by his work, feel duty - bound to officially decry its potential for pernicious influence. Many artists are said to create a "moral universe" within the body of their work; Genet is one of the few that actually does, though his is a mirror universe where amorality reigns. Genet's world is so exclusively concerned with flea - ridden prostitutes, child murderers who don't wipe themselves, handsome pimps who eat what they scratch out of their noses, [prostitutes] with rotting teeth, strutting, uneducated alpha male hustlers, and masochistic sodomites -- bourgeois emblems of horror all -- that the question of "evil" as such in Genet's work becomes obsolete.
While Genet loves and personally glorifies his memories, fictional recreations and their outcast lifestyles, he never objectively condones their actions to his audience. In all of his novels, Genet finds beauty, suffering, and vulnerability - humanity - in everyone, thus setting a far better example than his hypocritical reviewers. There is as much "evil" in Genet's books as there is represented by any typical novel's reality principle (for example, all of Genet's characters reveal more humanity and innate dignity than the crass, vacuous crowd Nick Carraway falls in with in Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby) or, for that matter, as there is in the lives of those unstable, morally - confused critics who are simply too cowardly to recognize the world as the diverse, dangerous, devouring, and unstable place that it is. If Our Lady Of The Flowers proves anything, it's that fifty years after its initial publication, the book is still effectively upsetting the wormy apple carts Genet intended it to.
From the standpoint of Jung's psychological types, Genet's feeling and sensation functions probably predominated in both his life and his writing. However, his thinking and intuition functions were clearly constellated as well, giving Our Lady Of The Flowers and the masterpieces that followed it unmatched macrocosmic perceptiveness, poetic resonance, and gripping, all - inclusive dramatic power. Like alchemical "totality" the hermaphrodite, a shaman, or a legitimate Christian saint, mystic Genet seems to have written from a state of undifferentiated consciousness and enjoyed a state of perpetual participation mystique with life.
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The author shares with us anecdotes, both happy and sad, about the hardscrabble existence of those days where working in a pottery factory was how people made their living and social life was pretty much confined to one's holler or at best the next one down the road. Nobody of that generation ever left town except to fight in a war.
Glock is especially adept at describing the townspeople and their feelings, drawing the reader into the story and enabling us to feel so close to the characters. The section describing Petey Dink is especially touching.
Kudos to author Glock. She has done a marvelous job. This book reminded me of David Baldacci's recent novel, "Wish You Well." Whereas his book is a work of fiction concerning tough times for a family in Virginia, Glock's accounting of her grandmaother's life is all the more interesting because it is true.
Keep on writing, Allison. You are very good.
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