Zola shares with us a deep and intimate relationship he had with Paul Cezanne and Baptistin Baille. "The Masterpiece" is a story about a brilliant and talented young painter Claude Lantier who has many ideals of what a masterpiece should be. Unfortunately, the public fails to appreciate/understand his vision. His pieces are ridiculed and laughed at the exhibition year after year. Claude retreats to the countryside but fails to create a painting that lives up to his expectation. Suffering mental breakdown, his wife and son Jacques become the ultimate sacrifice of his obsession with his arts. Zola tells Claude story and yet at the same time, portrays the bohemian lives of artists in the 19th century Paris quarters. He also shows many sides of other artists who lived in that period. A Journalist turned novelist Sandos (himself), as Claude's best friend; Fargerolles, equivalent to modern days "commercial artists"; Bongrand, whom I suspect to be the character for Pissaro (just my guess); Dubuche (modeled after Baille), the former art student who later despises bohemian lives when he joins a prestigious architectural firm; Mahodeau, the starving artist; Jori, the desperate journalist which would be known as "the tabloid reporter" in today's world and a few others. Zola's story is true and relevant in real life today. A true master in naturalism, Zola has done it again! An excellent portrait of the art world, it has a great unexpected ending as well. The story is quite depressing but I love it!

This book is most likely overlooked as compared to some of Zola's other novels due to the fact that it includes many incidents and themes drawn from his previous works. Zola tends to include "courtesans" in most of his books, and this is no exception; with a scene in which the main chracter (Claude) has a nightly adventure with Mathilde (one such courtesan). About twenty pages dealing with this incident seem transcribed directly from his previous work Nana. Other such examples exist, which may have helped keep the book from universal recognition as compared to others. Another "discrepancy" being detrimental overrall is the ending which, although emotionally packed by naturalist standards, still is in some ways unfulfilling. A reader gets the impression that no other way existed for the book to end, and in fact the best climaxes are about halfway through the work. Misfortunes abound, yet individual incidents do not so much sadden and shock by themselves, only when taken with the rest of the book (it must be the "naturalist technique"). What was most enjoyable about the entire novel is not so mcuh the act of creating as its effect upon Claude (a painter) and his relationship to his wife (Christine), which ranges from idylls during summer to a secluded winter atmosphere. Most of the themes in the book are grand; anything from what makes a genius to the change in people and landscapes over time. Some have charged The Masterpiece with attempting to undermine the Impressionist art movement of the time and to show the failings existent in its practitioners. This must seem absurd, if only for the fact that Claude (said to based upon Zola's friend Cezanne) is described with more sympathy than any other tragic hero of Zola's I have ever read of. In fact, if one reads this book, one feels as though one truly understands Impressionism. Here, we have Claude explaining to his wife why he has used the color blue when painting a tree. He shows her a spot where the sun's light is distilled in such a way as to appear blue. And in fact, many other such modern concepts are explained by Claude to the benefit of Impressionism. All in all, the ending may be unfulfilling precisely because Zola must have thought too well of this particular hero and there truly was no other way, with as much didgnity, to end his existence. Read this novel (to fully appreciate it) before reading other more famous works by Zola. Many modern readers may not appreciate the main message of the book: That genius must be chaste.

This book is most likely not as well known as some other of Zola's novels due to the fact that it draws too much upon subject matter from his previous works or fails to elaborate upon some themes expressed. Zola tends to include a "courtesan" in almost all his novels, and this is no exception; with one incident pertaining to the main character's adventure with one such courtesan named Mathilde included which could very well have been transcribed from Nana. Other such examples abound, therefore to a certain extent this book has some unoriginal incidents included which are detrimental overall. Another "discrepancy" is the ending, which is in many ways unfulfilling, although emotionally packed by naturalist standards. It is as if there was no other way to end this book which also happens to contain most of its best cliamxes about halfway through. Otherwise, the book is a great read; with the most enjoyable passages relating to Claude (a painter and the main character) and his relationship with his wife. Of course, misfortunes abound, but described in a such a way (it must be the "naturalist" technique) that they don't so much sadden the reader individually, but only after the book is read and taken as a whole. Most of the themes in the book are grand, anything from what makes a genius to the change produced in people or landscapes during the space of a few years. Some have charged the book with attempting to undermine the Impressionist art movement of the time and to prove the flaws existent in its practitioners. This must seem absurd, as the portrait we get of Claude (said to be based upon Zola's friend Cezanne) is the most sympathetic of any tragic hero of Zola's I have read of. And, in fact Zola even uses impressionistic techniques to describe scenery, and one feels as if one understands impressionism by reading this work. In one instance we have Claude explaining to Christine (his wife) why he has included blue when painting a tree. He shows her the spot where the sun's light is distilled blue and extols many such modern ideas. All in all, the unsatisfying ending could be caused by Zola's affection for this particular hero and he simply didn't know how to have him end his existence in a more dignified manner.

Why do we have labor laws? Why do we accept nuclear energy and the oil industry? Why did the rich countries become so prosperous? "Germinal" shows you why. Often considered Zola's greatest work, it is indeed a truly epic story skilfully blended with penetrating political and economic analysis, not least of the mixture of motives that push people to stand up for their rights or those of others. Take John Steinbeck's "The Grapes Of Wrath", multiply it by ten or twenty and you won't even come close to this book. Deeply moving, shocking, but ultimately uplifting, for in the wreckage of the miners' crushing defeat after their strike Zola, for once, offers a glimmer of hope. Better to have fought and lost than to have done nothing. The seeds of a new, fairer world have been sown. And one day........

Mind you, I've only read five of Zola's books (I'd be plowing through the rest now, if not for the bane of schoolwork...grrr), so it's possible that the man's written something even better, but it's hard to imagine how that would be possible, really.

Germinal is such an amazing, multi-faceted piece of work that it seems difficult if not impossible to encapsulate the whole thing in a paltry review. If the concept of a novel based around a coal miners' strike in nineteenth-century France sounds off-putting to you, be assured, it's much more accessible than you think. Frequently depressing it certainly is, but it's never less than gripping, and with such a dazzling array of characters and scenes, you'll be riveted throughout. Who can forget the allegorical Russian anarchist Souvarine (who I always picture as looking like Xellos from Slayers, for some reason)? The lugubriously tortured sexual longings of M Hennebeau? Or the horses who work in the mine, doomed to live a life entirely devoid of sunlight? I don't think think anyone short of Tolstoy is capable of doing animals this well. And let's not forget about the awe-inspiring closing paragraph.

Germinal is frequently a melodramatic novel, but never in a propagandizing way--while Zola's sympathies clearly lie with the miners, he is careful not to pile the whole of the blame for their living conditions on the owners, instead making most of them into sympathetic, or at least comprehensible, people. The blame lies with the entire system, and Zola's determination not to resort to simple-minded scapegoating makes the novel all the more real.

Admittedly, Zola's writing and use of imagery isn't exactly subtle (how often does he characterize the mine as a devouring maw--or words to that effect--in the first chapter alone?), but he has a rare gift for portraying large, panoramic scenes, as well as endowing smaller ones with a great deal of atmosphere (which latter talent is really more evident in Nana--also highly recommended)--his strengths are well-suited to the story he's chosen to tell, and the strong focus prevents it from meandering, as his later--somewhat comparable--novel The Earth sometimes does.

I can't recommend Germinal highly enough. If you read just one nineteenth-century French novel, you really ought to be doing more reading. But if you're that determined to limit yourself to just one, make sure that it's Germinal.

Germinal is generally considered the greatest of Emile Zola's twenty novel Rougon-Macquart cycle. Of these, Germinal is the most concerned with the daily life of the working poor. Set in the mid 1860's, the novel's protaganist Etienne Lantier is hungry and homeless, wandering the French countryside, looking for work. He stumbles upon village 240, the home of a coal mine, La Voreteux. He quickly gets a job in the depths of the mine, experiencing the backbreaking work of toiling hundreds of feet below the earth. He is befriended by a local family and they all lament the constant work required to earn just enough to slowly starve. Fired up by Marxist ideology, he convinces the miners to strike for a pay raise. The remainder of the novel tells the story of the strike and its effect on the workers, managers, owners and shareholders.
Zola weaves a strong plot line along with a multitude of characters. The hallmark of this novel is the wealth of people who populate the pages. The miners are not the noble poor but men and women who live day to day, cruel in some ways, generous in others. The managers are owners are not evil, greedy men but complex characters who in some ways envy the freedom of the miners from conventional morality.
As with most Zola novels, don't expect a happy ending. But the reader can expect to be transported to a world and a way of life almost unimaginable for its brutality and bleakness. Like other great works of literature, the novel explores the thoughts and actions of people who suffer the daily indignities of poverty and injustice. Germinal is different however because the thoughts and actions are not noble and the consequences of their actions are felt by all. I would strongly recommend Germinal as one of the major novels of the 19th century but one that transcends time and place. The issues evoked in the novel regarding labor versus capital are just as relevant to today's world.

I wanted to read love story which does not have happy ending. So I picked Zola's "Therese Raquin". It is a story of a woman, orphaned since her childhood, raised by her aunt and eventually married to her sickly cousin. Therese lives quiet live full of suppresion: sexual, monetary and intellectual. The first time she feels alive is when she manages to have wild extra marital affair with her husband's handsome, well-built, scheming office friend. Where Therese sees lust and love, her lover, Laurent, sees convenience: mistress he does not need to spend money on and can visit when it suits him. This brutal affair eventually ends with murder, mutual hate between Therese and Laurent and eventually suicide. Zola's storytelling is compelling. Book is a page turner, no matter how you feel about the events it describes. And even though one can expect tragic end, the magnitude of it is enourmous and leaves one stunned for quite some time...

I just couldn't believe Emile Zola's genius when I heard that he wrote Therese Raquin on a newspaper manager's order of a detective novel.He simply read the newspapers for a clipping about murder and started writing it. What is surprising here is not how he started the novel but how he managed to make it a classic. It is a classic indeed, with an exception that I can offer it not only to "classics" readers but to any reader who is not conservative(for the book shows pure reality that is contrary to general taboos). It has everything that a classic should have: great use of language, a style(ie naturalism ), an insight to human feelings, mentality and conflicts, permanence through the years. What's more, it has everything that a bestseller should have,too: fascination, big events like murder, intrigues, love, hatred, sensuality. Perhaps you will find even more when you read the novel. It is everything one expects from a book.

Therese Raquin centers on Therese, who is raised by her aunt with the expectation that she will marry her male cousin, Camille. And so she does. Then one day, Camille brings home his old school friend Laurent, and for the first time in her life, Therese feels passion. She and Laurent enter an illicit love affair, in which they successfully implement a plot to kill Camille and then get married and live with, of all people, Camille's mother.

However, all bad deeds must be repaid, and the psychological demise of Laurent and Therese's relationship in light of their shared crime is both horrific and realistic. They scramble to be the first to bring down the other in a way that will absolve themselves of all blame, dropping clues to bystanders all the while.

This book, originally written in French, is a classic masterpiece and a must-read!

A classic in many ways, the Division of Labor is a great starting point for sociology - not because it's terribly sexy or interesting or even correct, but because it begins to lay out what sociology can do.

... The Halls translation is quite a good one. If we examine the Halls text and compare it to the "revisions" that the reviewer has posed, we find that the differences are not merely aesthetic, they are substantive. They change the meaning of the sentence, and therefore the nature and meaning of Durkheim's argument.

I think that this Durkheim's best work. As a warning, it is not easy; perhaps this is where the difficulty with the translation lies. But for anyone interested in sociological theory, this book is essential reading. The translation is the best out there.

... The Coser edition of THE DIVISION OF LABOUR is commonly regarded as the best english translation edition.

(Ignore my 2-star rating, I had to put in something in order to get this review online.)

As I cross-checked the passages that most interested me with the French edition, I was surprised to find that entire paragraphs are left out of this English translation. I cannot yet speak for the comprehensiveness of other English translations.

This work by Jean Jacques Rousseau probably represents the single greatest work in defining what we would call education today. I am a Francophone living in Northern Ontario and so I have read just the french version, but barring that I believe that Rousseau was ahead of his time. His simple theory of education was the floor from which many other pedagogues would follow(Pestalozzi, Montessori, Itard, Séguin, among others). His theory of child development established him in all fairness, as the first psychologist of all time.

'The punishment is the natural consequence of the error' Such a novel concept for a time so tumultuous. One other statement is the following' You must begin by first knowing your children, because on the whole you do not'. Rousseau passions me and I believe him to be the reason why education turned towards the children rather than the teachers.

To conclude, I can say most assuredly that Rousseau, with his avant-garde tactics, awoke the world to the concept of an education centered around the child. If you lose the child, you lose the concept of education.

Rousseau's "Emile" is a must read for everybody who is interested in education. The book may be more than 200 years old, but many of its insights could come up in any brand new treatise about modern methods of teaching.

"Emile" is the fictitious account of the ideal education of a boy. (Maybe it was Rousseau's way of dealing with his own failures as a father.) Rousseau believes that education must be to blame for the deplorable state of the world, as "Everything is good that the Lord has made, it only degenerates in the hands of man." So Rousseau rejects the drill and cruelty of the schools of his times, he opts for freedom and learning by doing. Much of this is utopian, of course, but in one of his brilliant remarks Rousseau claims that "saying: Suggest something that can be done, is like saying: suggest what we have been doing all along."

This is one of the most brilliant books I have ever read. If you read just one book about education, make it this one, even if you are not prepared to agree with Rousseau.

If you are interested in classic sociological theory, you must read Durkheim...but always with the understanding that we have come a long way since 1912. The fundamental assumption upon which Durkheim's work is based, that aboriginal practices are religion at its most basic and primitive, is no longer accepted as necessarily true. And it definitely cannot be assumed that practices that can be observed today mirror practices from centuries ago, as it is the nature of social practices to adopt with fluidity to changing times and cultures. It is important to recognize Durkheim's role in beginning the dialogue, but it is also important to see the flaws in his work.

This book is a sociological text written by Durkheim. One of the forefathers of Sociology, he believed that to study sociology you must identify social phenomena and then trace it to its origins to see how it came about. This for Durkheim was the only way to understand society.

In this book he examines the origins of religion. He explains that religion develops from the collective feelings of security we gain from living in a group, and these feelings are very powerful and important to us. However, early tribes passed these feelings onto which ever object they were close to at the time of experiencing the emotions, or the most frequent object in their area. The object could include a plant, vegetable or an animal, which would then be represented in a carving of stone or wood and then worshipped. This for Durkheim is the beginning of totemism, the first religion.

He follows on to discuss how our first religion gave us an understanding of the world around us, our conception of space and time. For Durkheim 'the framework of our intelligence' is made up of the concepts of space, time, numbers and our existence, and they were born 'in religion'.

Durkheim's writing is suprisingly easy to read and very enjoyable. His examination of early societies gives much insight into their lives and how they understood the world to be. For anybody studying Durkheim, this book is a good topic area to concentrate on. However, for anybody interested in theology or in early societies, it is a fascinating read. I read this book as part of my degree course and, although I borrowed it from the library, even after my course has ended I am now buying my own copy to reread.

I recommend this book to a wide range of readers, not only those interested in sociology. Read it, you'll be suprised!

Durkheim was not as scientific (or as sociological, or even as valid) as he might have been, but that matters little. He helped start the discipline, and the rest of us have had a century to make advances. This is where to see it just beginning to take form.

I just couldn't stop reading this book, by the more I read I discovered more secret wishes in my soal, you just gotta love it.

Stories are well written by known authors. Many people might love this book. I am not one of them, however.

If you want real erotica instead of the so-called erotica of today, then this is the book for you. Steamy, steamy, steamy!

I found myself enthralled in this book, and I must credit Zola for his unflinching, often brutal realism. However, the story left me feeling very sad; there was so much blatant inhumanity. The tragic rape scene near the end left me horrified and numb, as did numerous passages throughout. Zola really captures a dark side of life in the country.

The ultimate naturalist novel. It may sound corny, but if ever a book was "earthy", this one certainly is. Many people, including Zola's fellow naturalists, have been disgusted by the scenes of rape, murder and general bad behaviour in it, but in fact none of them are included solely for their shock effect. The characters are all too true to life, and although they may be brutish, they are not all stupid, as is shown in the cafe discussions about the agricultural market and the threat from cheap American grain imports (remember, this is in the 1860s). One of the few Zola books where the member of the Rougon-Macquart family in it is not one of the main characters, and in fact his role in the action is almost accidental. For him, and perhaps for most readers, the farmers are aliens from another world but this book is an excellent work and one of Zola's best, though it may make you think twice about buying that nice little house in the country, especially in France.

Le Reve's theme, I think, is how addiction to fantasy and castles of air can sap one's life, to the extent that, if one is sufficiently far gone, one may be better off dying while believing in them than living while having the illusions destroyed. The protagonist of Le Reve has such an obsession with saints and religious imagery that every occurrence of every day, to her, is miraculous, willed by god specifically for her individual benefit. This makes her first love a life or death affair - since, she thinks, said love was heaven-sent and personally ordained by all her favourite saints, an end to the love would not only mean a human crisis, but it would also mean a fatal conflict of faith. To better examine it, Zola projects this mindset onto the prose itself, such that Angelique's revival is made to appear as a miracle. (Most curiously, though, she is only revived when the Bishop says "I wish it," and not during any of his supplications to the heavens.) When the book is so permeated with her single-minded fixation (seriously, she never expresses a single thought about _anything else in the world_ in the whole book), her death appears as a mercy killing, as if Zola just had too much pity for her to let her live on to ever see her castles of air come tumbling down.

Due to the aforementioned qualities, Angelique is probably the least striking of all of Zola's heroines (and is oddly possessed of the odd combination of pious intentions and a mercenary bent - she says many a time that Felicien's money is an important motivation for her love). Felicien himself is totally insipid, but that is after all perfectly realistic. As a result of that, however, their love doesn't really inspire any reader involvement. Still, the supporting cast - the Bishop and Angelique's foster parents, all torn by a desire for redemption in their own eyes - is all great. No less could be expected from the master. And the conflict, despite the lack of said involvement, is still as tense as can be, the more amazingly given that this tension is pulled out of absolutely nowhere. Indeed, Zola's prose is exquisite, but that's just par for the course when reading his works. This time around, though, it's somewhat muted, and refrains from trying to scale the impossible heights that other works by him ascended. In Les Rougon-Macquart, it's sandwiched right between The Earth and La Bete Humaine, and it's certainly far lighter fare than either of them, making me think that Zola just wanted a brief respite.

The book ends with the observation that "Everything is but a dream." This is obviously a commentary on Angelique's Ophelia-like fragility, both physical and mental, and it also is very reminiscent of classical Japanese literature. Japanese culture was all the rage in Paris at the time, so Zola may have indeed been reading just that. Le Reve is an appropriately wispy, ethereal little book, though ultimately it's got its feet firmly on the ground. In a way, it's a kind of extension of the themes of The Sin of Father Mouret - as in that book, religion first brings the lovers together, then pulls them apart. Of course, The Sin of Father Mouret unquestionably had by far the more powerful and intense drama, but Le Reve is a worthy book in its own way.

In the light of the other Rougon-Macquart, LAssommoir, Germinal, La Bete Humaine and La Faute de lAbbe Mouret, among the twenty,this is pretty small potatoes. The heroine is light and insubstantial, almost by definition, and the story other-worldly. But this is Zola and his abilities shine through even this light canvas. The best characterizations are those of the adoptive parents,who in the end discover that they have gained forgiveness for their head-strongness in getting married over her mother's objections by adopting the saintly Angelique.

Zola's novel is set during a pilgrimage to the French town of Lourdes, site of the Virgin Mary's supposed appearance before the child Bernadette Soubirous, and thereafter believed to be a place where miracles occurred. The young priest, Pierre Froment, travels from Paris to Lourdes with the ailing Marie de Guersaint, her family and other people beset by incurable illnesses.

The novel includes particularly fine descriptions of the train journey made by the pilgrims, and their response to the town when and after they arrive. Indeed, much of the book reads like an investigative report: Zola includes descriptions of the events surrounding Bernadette's vision and her subsequent life in order to give the reader a context in which to appreciate the history of the town.

Zola lays bare the problems with the pilgrimage and with the Lourdes phenomenon: the ruination of the old town; the sheer commercialisation of religion; the hypocrisy of the local clergy and townspeople. I think it's important to bear in mind that anitclericalism was rife in French intellectual and political circles in the nineteenth century - indeed if memory serves the Catholic Church was disestablished in 1905 - and as such Zola's stance in this novel may form part of that current of thought.

Nonetheless, Zola's position, as projected I think through the character of Froment, is not completely dismissive. There is an understanding that there is a value in places like Lourdes, that people "beyond" hope of a medical cure sometimes need to cling to faith in order to prop up their reason for living:

"... it seemed that science alone could not suffice, and that one would be obliged to leave a door open on the Mysterious."

Interesting stuff.

LOURDES tells the story of a four day pilgramage to the famous shrine in the late 19th century from the point of view of an abbe who has lost faith. He accompanies a childhood friend and her father as they seek a cure for her paralysis and pain. The abbe is no believer in miracles and his story is about the faith of those who have no where else to turn. Still powerful today, as many turn from a science-based medical establishment, when it offers no cures, to faith healings which heal, if not always the physical symptoms, the anguish and pain of hopelessness, this book explores the hearts and minds of the faithful with respect and insight. Zola's descriptions of trains and hospitals full of the diseased hopeful are overwhelming to read. His mixing of the political, the spiritual and the personal is well-balanced and provides a great tale. You will find the story of Bernadette and the Lady of Lourdes here, but if you are looking for inspirational reading about miraculous cures, you should look elsewhere. This book is about the very human side of a place usually known only for its miracles.