Finished: Journey to the Center of the Earth (Verne). A fun read. :-) And now...I've read the top 50 authors of my 100! Generally this is not my type of book at all, but this was a fun read. I thought I would have to drag through it, but even though the premise is outlandish, it kept me turning the pages! I (like Axel) kept wondering...how are they ever going to get out?? The deeper they go, they'll never make it. Anyway, I liked the "new world" they found...and how they named each new large landmark after themselves, lol. And...it was clever how they eventually got out, even though highly unlikely. I suppose that's the idea with science fiction though!! I doubt I'll read more Jules Verne, but I'm so glad this project of mine is making me read authors I would have never looked at before. I do have an appreciation for each of their works! My favorite quote from the book, when Axel is arguing with his uncle about continuing their journey, the uncle convinces him (or bullies him) to continue because a theory of his is correct..."Once science has spoken, one should remain silent." Hee hee. :-)

So...as I said, I've now read the top 50 authors on my list! Yay! Of course, some I had read before this endeavor, but most I've read since I started! I only have 17 authors left to go in my top 100 and there are so many books I still want to read...repeats of different authors. Here's the list of the top 50:

1	Shakespeare, William
2	Dostoevsky, Fyodor
3	Dickens, Charles
4	Alighieri, Dante
5	Tolstoy, Leo
6	Faulkner, William
7	Kafka, Franz
8	Proust, Marcel
9	Cervantes, Miguel
10	Chekhov, Anton
11	Melville, Herman
12	Twain, Mark
13	Hemingway, Ernest
14	Woolf, Virginia
15	Poe, Edgar Allan
16	Marquez, Gabriel G.
17	Joyce, James
18	Orwell, George
19	Homer
20	Austen, Jane
21	Nabokov, Vladimir
22	Steinbeck, John
23	Goethe, Johann W. von
24	Camus, Albert
25	Hugo, Victor
26	Bronte, Charlotte
27	Eliot, George
28	Wilde, Oscar
29	Conrad, Joseph
30	de Balzac, Honore
31	Blake, William
32	Tolkien, J.R.R.
33	Milton, John
34	Chaucer
35	Dumas, Alexander
36	Sophocles
37	Hardy, Thomas
38	Doyle, Arther Conan
39	Keats, John
40	Salinger, J.D.
41	Eliot, T.S.
42	Fitzgerald, F. Scott
43	Beckett, Samuel
44	Bronte, Emily
45	Stevenson, Robert L.
46	Flaubert, Gustave
47	Verne, Jules
48	Dickinson, Emily
49	Shaw, George B.
50	Hawthorne, Nathanial

Finished: Paradise Lost (Milton) Intense story of the fall of Adam and Eve. I was really not looking forward to reading 400 pages of free-style poetry, but found the book easier to read than I thought it would be. I did have to read several passages over and over if my mind wandered in the slightest, but overall, what an amazing piece of work! Paradise Lost starts with Satan down in hell, having lost his battle against God in heaven, thus thrown out and into the depths below. He decides, rather than trying to battle God and his angels again, that he will get revenge on God by destroying his precious, latest creation...man. So, he goes to the Garden of Eden, tempts Eve, and the rest is history.

What I just said in three sentences, Milton tells in over 10,000 lines of poetry. It was quite an undertaking, but a very nicely written, detailed, descriptive piece of work. I'm glad to have finally read this epic poem which is so often referenced by other authors! One thing that struck me....I included the passage below....I've never before heard that God created man to replenish (eventually) the angels up in his realm that he lost when Satan took one-third of his angels with him in battle, and then to hell. Hmm....I never heard that idea before, that man was created by God simply to fill his empty angel coffers. Anyway....here are some passages I liked.

After uttering the now famous quote, "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven", Satan and his right hand man discuss how best to get revenge on God:

Though heaven be shut,
And heaven's high arbitrator sit secure
In his own strength, this place may lie expos'd
The utmost border of his kingdom left
To their defence who hold it: here perhaps
Some advantageous act may be achiev'd
By sudden onset, either with hell fire
To waste his whole creation; or possess
All as our own, and drive, as we were driven,
The puny habitants; or, if not drive,
Seduce them to our party, that their God
May prove their foe, and with repenting hand
Abolish his own works.

God telling his Son how he made man pure, but he is predestined to fall...however, it's not God's fault, he just gave him free will:

I made him just and right;
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall,
Such I created all th' ethereal powers,
And spirits, both them who stood, and them who fail'd;
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.
Not free, what proof could they have given sincere
Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love,
Where only what they needs must do, appear'd;
Not, what they would? What praise could they receive?
What pleasure I from such obedience paid,
When will and reason (reason also is choice)
Useless and vain, of freedom both despoil'd,
Made passive both, had serv'd necessity,
Not me? They therefore, as to right belong'd,
So were created, nor can justly accuse
Their Maker, or their making, or their fate;
As if predestination over-rul'd
Their will, dispos'd by absolute decree,
Or high foreknowledge. They themselves decreed
Their own revolt, not I: if I foreknew,
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault,
Which had no less prov'd certain unforeknown.
So without least impulse, or shadow of fate,
Or aught by me immutably foreseen,
They trespass; authors to themselves in all,
Both what they judge, and what they choose; for me
I form'd them free, and free they must remain.

The angel Raphael retells the entire story of how Satan and one-third of all the other angels rebelled against God and were defeated, and, in the passage, thrown into hell:

Hell heard th' unsufferable noise, hell saw
Heaven ruining from heaven, and would have fled
Affrighted; but strict Fate had cast too deep
Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound.
Nine days they fell; confounded Chaos roar'd,
And felt tenfold confusion in their fall
Through his wild anarchy, so huge a rout
Encumber'd him with ruin: hell at last
Yawning receiv'd them whole, and on them clos'd;
Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire
Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain.
Disburden'd heaven rejoic'd, and soon repair'd
Her mural breach, returning when it roll'd.

So then....after losing a third of his angels and worried that Satan might try to do battle again, THAT is why God decides to create man?? So he can eventually replenish his angel force? I guess that's Milton's interpretation anyway:

Yet far the great part have kept, I see,
Their station; heaven yet populous retains
Number sufficient to possess her realms
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent
With ministeries due and solemn rites:
But lest his heart exalt him in the harm
Already done, to have dispeopled heaven,
My damage fondly deem'd, I can repair
That detriment, if such it be to lose
Self-lost, and in a moment will create
Another world, out of one man a race
Of men innumerable, there to dwell,
Not here, till by degrees of merit rais'd
They open to themselves at length the way
Up hither, under long obedience tried,
And earth be chang'd to heaven, and heaven to earth,
One kingdom, joy and union without end.

After Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit, and Adam is repenting in prayer with sincerity, the Son of God appeals to God himself to have more mercy on them. He will, after all, make the ultimate sacrifice for mankind with his own life:

See, Father, what first fruits on earth are sprung
From thy implanted grace in man, these sighs
And prayers, which in this golden censer, mix'd
With incense, I thy priest before thee bring,
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
Sown with contrition in his heart, than those
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees
Of Paradise could have produc'd, ere fallen
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine ear
To supplications, hear his sighs though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me
Interpret for him, me his advocate
And propitiation; all his works on me,
Good or not good, ingraft, my merit those
Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay.

God instructs arch-angel Michael to show Adam the future of mankind, and lead Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden to start their new lives. Michael gives Adam a last piece of advice after showing him what will happen all the way up to the birth of Christ, his death, and ascension into Heaven:

To who thus also th' angel last replied:
This having learn'd, thou has attain'd the sum
Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the stars
Thou knew'st by name, and all th' ethereal powers,
All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works,
Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, or sea,
And all the riches of this world enjoy'dst,
And all the rule, one empire; only add
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith,
Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love,
By name to come call'd charity, the soul
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess
A Paradise within thee, happier far.

Finished: Kidnapped (Stevenson). An adventurous book! I don't think Kidnapped was really my kind of book, but I'm determined to read my 100 authors, so set out to read this book. It snagged me with the misadventure of the protagonist, David Balfour, at the beginning, and kept me somewhat hooked until I could find out that he was duly rewarded in the end. I don't know if it is politically correct to say, but I think this is more of a boy's book...reading about David being kidnapped, and all his adventures in the Scottish highlands getting back to his rightful home. It just seemed like a book that younger boys may enjoy reading. Or, maybe that young boys back in my day might have enjoyed reading while I was busy reading the Little House on the Prairie series. :-) Anyway, I'm glad I finally read a Stevenson book!

I have a feeling that I'll feel the same way about Jules Verne when I've got to read one of his books. That is coming soon! I only have Jules Verne and John Milton left in the top 50 of the 100 authors, so I'll pick one of them next.

Finished: Middlemarch (Eliot). Oh, this was a really good book! Long, but good. It wasn't the kind of book I could read fast. Every word in every sentence could not be missed, or a completely different meaning could be taken from the sentance. Therefore, I savored the book in more ways than one. :-)

I had been planning to read Eliot's Silas Marner, but after seeing Middlemarch on endless "top ten books of all time" lists, I bit the bullet and went for the almost 900-pager. I'm so glad I did! The book was full of great plots, intricate characters, lively conversations (personal, political, and gossip!), beautiful descriptions, inner-turmoil out the wazoo, and English "small town" society of the the early 1800's. I loved many of the characters, but none of them were without their flaws. I didn't hate any character, even though there were some we were supposed to loathe. Eliot put too much humanness in them all. I think my favorites were Dorethea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate...not a couple, by the way, and Caleb Garth.

Dorothea and Lydgate each had their own personal beliefs in improving the lot of mankind, and each married, one for the wrong reasons and one for love....and ended up regretting their marriages. Though the two were never thrown together romantically, they became good allies and friends. I loved seeing that in a book! I suppose in the perfect Jane Austen world, they would have found their way to each other in the end...but this was not Jane Austen, and the two characters I liked most were not a couple.

Though the entire book had some wonderfully written passages, here are a few of my favorites. I love this first one, though there was no mind-wandering allowed while reading this book without having to go back and reread the passage. And, I love the last one...so true!

Dorothea when her mind was distracted while trying to read:

When I want to be busy with books, I am often playing truant among my thoughts.

Lydgate, when he first sees the beautiful Rosamond:

And when a man has seen the woman he would have chosen if he intended to marry speedily, his remaining a bachelor will usually depend on her resolution rather than on his.

Though she has many local unsuccessful suitors, Rosamond thinks she's falling in love with newcomer, Lydgate:

Yet this result, which she took to be a mutual impression, called falling in love, was just what Rosamond had contemplated beforehand. Ever since that important new arrival in Middlemarch she had woven a little future, of which something like this scene was the necessary beginning. Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft or duly escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had a circumstantial fascination for the virgin mind, against which native merit has urged itself in vain.

Dorothea, realizing her marriage was a mistake:

However, Dorothea was crying, and if she had been required to state the cause, she could only have done so in some such general words as I have already used; to have been driven to be more particular would have been like trying to give a history of the limits and shadows, for that new real future which was replacing the imaginary drew its material from the endless minutiae by which her view of Mr. Casaubon and her wifely relation, now that she was married to him, was gradually changing with the secret motion of a watch-hand from what it had been in her maiden dream.

Describing Mrs. Garth's "handsome" looks:

Looking at the mother, you might hope that the daughter would become like her, which is a prospective advantage equal to a dowry--the mother too often standing behind the daughter like a malignant prophecy--"Such as I am, she will shortly be."

When Will and Dorothea are parted due to circumstances, and against their wishes:

If youth is the season of hope, it is often so only in the sense that our elders are hopeful about us; for no age is so apt as youth to think its emotions, partings, and resolves are the last of their kind.

Loved the book...still pondering whether it goes into my all time favorites list. :-)

Finished: The Meaning of Liff (Adams). Yes, that's Liff. :-) So...some may think it's cheating to read this funny book of Douglas Adams that assigns really funny every day definitions to cities from the UK. However, I just absolutely cannot bring myself to read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which probably put him in the top 100 list. I got true enjoyment from reading all the definitions, though, so I don't consider it cheating. After all, he did author the book, and take great pleasure in doing so, or so it would seem. Co-authored by John Lloyd, here is their description of the book.

In Life, there are many hundreds of common experiences, feelings, situations and even objects which we all know and recognize, but for which no words exist. On the other hand, the world is littered with thousands of spare words which spend their time doing nothing but loafing about on signposts pointing at places. Our job, as we see it, is to get these words down off the signposts and into the mouths of babes and sucklings and so on, where they can start earning their keep in everyday conversation and make a more positive contribution to society.

So, here are some of my favorites. I literally laughed out loud at a few. And, some were just too raunchy to include here. My absolute favs....Berepper, Frolesworth, Glentaggart, Jurby, Scronkey, Shoeburyness, Spittal of Glenshee, and Woking


ABERYSTWYTH (n.)
A nostalgic yearning which is in itself more pleasant than the thing being yearned for.

ALLTAMI (n.)The ancient art of being able to balance the hot and cold shower taps.

BEREPPER (n.)
The irrevocable and sturdy fart released in the presence of royalty, which sounds quite like a small motorbike passing by (but not enough to be confused with one).

CORRIEARKLET (n.)
The moment at which two people approaching from opposite ends of a long passageway, recognise each other and immediately pretend they haven't. This is to avoid the ghastly embarrassment of having to continue recognising each other the whole length of the corridor.

DAMNAGLAUR (n.)
A certain facial expression which actors are required to demonstrate their mastery of before they are allowed to play Macbeth.

DUGGLEBY (n.)
The person in front of you in the supermarket queue who has just unloaded a bulging trolley on to the conveyor belt and is now in the process of trying to work out which pocket they left their cheque book in, and indeed which pair of trousers.

DUNBOYNE (n.)
The moment of realisation that the train you have just patiently watched pulling out of the station was the one you were meant to be on.

DUNCRAGGON (n.)
The name of Charles Bronson's retirement cottage.

DUNTISH (adj.)Mentally incapacitated by severe hangover

EPSOM (n.)
An entry in a diary (such as a date or a set of initials) or a name and address in your address book, which you haven't the faintest idea what it's doing there.

FIUNARY (n.)
The safe place you put something and then forget where it was.

FROLESWORTH (n.)Measure. The minimum time it is necessary to spend frowning in deep concentration at each picture in an art gallery in order that everyone else doesn't think you've a complete moron.

FULKING (participial vb.)Pretending not to be in when the carol-singers come round.

GLASSEL (n.)A seaside pebble which was shiny and interesting when wet, and which is now a lump of rock, which children nevertheless insist on filing their suitcases with after the holiday.

GLENTAGGART (n.)A particular kind of tartan hold-all, made exclusive under licence for British Airways. When waiting to collect your luggage from an airport conveyor belt, you will notice that on the next conveyor belt along there is always a single, solitary bag going round and round uncollected. This is a glentaggart, which has been placed there by the baggage-handling staff to take your mind off the fact that your own luggage will shortly be landing in Murmansk.

GOOSNARGH (n.)Something left over from preparing or eating a meal, which you store in the fridge despite the fact that you know full well you will never ever use it.

HARPENDEN (n.)The coda to a phone conversion, consisting of about eight exchanges, by which people try gracefully to get off the line.

HIGH OFFLEY (n.)Gossnargh (q.v.) three weeks later.

HORTON-CUM-STUDLEY (n.)The combination of little helpful grunts, nodding movements of the head, considerate smiles, upward frowns and serious pauses that a group of people join in making in trying to elicit the next pronouncement of somebody with a dreadful stutter.

HOVE (adj.)Descriptive of the expression seen on the face of one person in the presence of another who clearly isn't going to stop talking for a very long time.

JURBY (n.)A loose woollen garment reaching to the knees and with three or more armholes, knitted by the wearer's well- meaning but incompetent aunt.

KIRBY (n.)Small but repulsive piece of food prominently attached to a person's face or clothing.

KIRBY MISPERTON (n.)One who kindly attempts to wipe an apparent kirby (q.v.) off another's face with a napkin, and then discovers it to be a wart or other permanent fixture, is said to have committed a 'kirby misperton'.

LITTLE URSWICK (n.)The member of any class who most inclines a teacher towards the view that capital punishment should be introduced in schools.

MINCHINHAMPTON (n.)The expression on a man's face when he has just zipped up his trousers without due care and attention.

MOFFAT (n. tailoring term)That part of your coat which is designed to be sat on by the person next of you on the bus.

PLYMOUTH (vb.)To relate an amusing story to someone without remembering that it was they who told it to you in the first place.

QUENBY (n.)A stubborn spot on a window which you spend twenty minutes trying to clean off before discovering it's on the other side of the glass.

SCAMBLEBY (n.)A small dog which resembles a throwrug and appears to be dead.

SCOSTHROP (vb.)To make vague opening or cutting movements with the hands when wandering about looking for a tin opener, scissors, etc. in the hope that this will help in some way.

SCRONKEY (n.)Something that hits the window as a result of a violent sneeze.

SHOEBURYNESS (abs.n.)The vague uncomfortable feeling you get when sitting on a seat which is still warm from somebody else's bottom.

SKETTY (n.)Apparently self-propelled little dance a beer glass performs in its own puddle.

SOLENT (adj.)Descriptive of the state of serene self-knowledge reached through drink.

SPITTAL OF GLENSHEE (n.)That which has to be cleaned off castle floors in the morning after a bagpipe contest or vampire attack.

WOKING (participial vb.)Standing in the kitchen wondering what you came in here for.

Finished: Waiting for Godot (Beckett). I think I'm still waiting for the point. Anyway, hmm. I'm not sure what to say. I went to read a review of the play after I read it, and it was called an "absurdist" piece of literature. I think I would agree with that. :-) I didn't really get it...or why it's considered to be one of the best plays of the 20th century. Oh wait...here's exactly what was said: It was voted "the most significant English language play of the 20th century". Really? Maybe I'm not deep enough. Another reviewer said it was a masterpiece because it was a play about absolutely nothing that holds you spellbound. And, as a matter of fact...the second act is just pretty much a repeat of the first act, so it does it to you twice. Interesting summary, that.

I went to the Broadway database to see who had starred in the play recently, and the only thing that kept me going through the play was picturing Nathan Lane as one of the main characters. I could so see him playing the part. Other than that, I've got nothing. Oh, I did like this exchange:

Vladimir: Is it possible you've forgotten already?

Estragon: That's the way I am. Either I forget immediately or I never forget.

I did like that. :-) Maybe that's the point...I'll never forget reading Waiting for Godot, that's for sure.

Finished: The Odyssey (Homer). I enjoyed this epic tale! :-) I can't remember if I read The Odyssey in high school, but it did not seem familiar. Yet, the mythologies were definitely familiar. I'm thinking maybe I read The Iliad. In any case, I've now read Homer, and much to my surprise, I was not bored or glazing over. I really enjoyed the story of Odysseus' long journey home, and all the players involved. It may have just inspired me to read (re-read?) The Iliad! I loved Telemachus, and Penelope, and all who were loyal to Odysseus....especially Athena. Though, wasn't it always the gods dallying with the mortals who usually started all the problems to begin with?? And...did Odysseus perhaps deserve his ten year exile after the Trojan War? I'd have to really get into the history to formulate an opinion on that, so for now I'll just say, I was rooting for Odysseus in The Odyssey. :-)

I wish I could understand Greek and read the original. You can tell that the poem had many phrases used over and over throughout that were translated charmingly to my eyes. Some of the ones I liked in particular:

"When the early rosy fingered dawn appeared." (probably the most repeated)

"Surely the wine has touched your wits."

"Athena poured sleep upon her eyelids." or "On her lids, Athena caused a sweet sleep to fall."

"His life flew away."

"What word has passed the barrier of your teeth?"

"I will go to my upper chamber and lie on my bed, which has become for me a bed of sorrows, ever watered with my tears since Odysseus went away to see accursed Ilios, --name never to be named."

lol, love that last one. Reminds me of "He who shall not be named." from Harry Potter! Anyway...I definitely enjoyed this Classic and think it deserves to be on the Classics list.

Finished: Lady Susan (Austen). I couldn't resist another Jane Austen. :-) A lively story told in 41 chapters, all written as letters by the characters of the book, to and from each other. Lady Susan is a detestable widow who treats her daughter horribly, and flirts with younger men in hopes of attracting them for either herself, or her daughter....but mostly herself! She's all sugar and spice, of course, to the gentlemen in person, but then writes these scathing letters about them to her best friend, the only person who knows her true intentions. Happily, the truth wins out in the end and her duplicity is uncovered. :-)

Now...more Jane Austen or back to my list of authors??

Finished: Northanger Abbey (Austen). I love Jane Austen! I wish so much that she had written more books before her untimely death. She is one of my favorite authors based on Pride and Prejudice alone, but I relish reading more of her words! Jane Austen is, of course, already an author I've read so I should be concentrating on authors I haven't read, but I couldn't resist. :-)

Northanger Abbey was a delight to read! I loved Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney and their courtship. And, I couldn't stand the vapid Isabella Thorpe or the smarmy John Thorpe. Although it was a little predictable that Catherine and Henry would end up together and happy after overcoming some obstacles, that's one of the things I enjoyed the most after reading so many tragic books of late. And, there's just no beating Jane Austen's prose. Love it, love it, love it!

After Catherine grows up as a tomboy, she finally hits the teen years and starts dreaming of being a heroine, like in the novels:

But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives.

When Catherine first meets Henry on holiday in Bath. I love this conversation:

Catherine turned away her head, not knowing whether she might venture a laugh.

"I see what you think of me," said he gravely--"I shall make but a poor figure in your journal tomorrow."

"My journal!"

"Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms: wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings--plain black shoes--appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me with nonsense."

"Indeed I shall say no such thing."

"Shall I tell you what you ought to say?"

"If you please."

"I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced by Mr. King; had a great deal of conversation with him--seems a most extraordinary genius--hope I may know more of him. That, madame, is what I wish you to say."

"But, perhaps, I keep no journal."

"Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am not sitting by you. These are points in which a doubt is equally possible. Not keep a journal! How are your absent cousins to understand the tenour of your life in Bath without one? How are the civilities and compliments of every day to be related as they ought to be, unless noted down every evening in a journal? How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal? My dear madam, I am not so ignorant of young ladies' ways as you wish to believe me; it is this delightful habit of journalizing which largely contributes to form the easy style of writing for which ladies are so generally celebrated. Everybody allows that the talent of writing agreeable letters is peculiarly female. Nature may have done something, but I am sure it must be essentially assisted by the practice of keeping a journal."

Another conversation between Catherine and Henry, where Catherine doesn't want to tell Henry that she was curious about him:

"What are you thinking of so earnestly?" said he, as they walked back to the ballroom; "not of your partner, I hope, for, by that shake of the head, your meditations are not satisfactory."

Catherine coloured, and said, "I was not thinking of anything."

"That is artful and deep, to be sure; but I had rather be told at once that you will not tell me."

"Well then, I will not".

"Thank you; for now we shall soon be acquainted, as I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever we meet, and nothing in the world advances intimacy so much."

I love this quote about friendship. :-) After their one evening together, Henry does not show up at the local balls for a few days, but Catherine has a new friend (or so she thinks), Isabella.

Catherine was delighted with this extension of her Bath acquaintance, and almost forgot Mr. Tilney while she talked to Miss Thorpe. Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.

Well, I could go on and on, but I might quote the entire book. All of the above happened in only the first 40 pages! Off to read more...just don't know what yet.

Finished: Madame Bovary (Flaubert). Well, another tragic book, albeit very well written. Emma Bovary is a married mother of one who isn't satisfied with her provincial French life. She has always longed for adventure, white knights, balls, society...but she marries a country doctor who can only offer her the "boring country life" of wife and mother. He is ecstatically happy with her, and she is miserable with him. This leads to her having two devastating adulterous affairs and borrowing her family into ruin to shower herself with material possessions to make herself happy.

I don't really find Emma Bovary to be any more sympathetic than I did Anna Karenina. I don't have sympathy for a woman who puts her own whims and desires before her child...especially when she is living a comfortable life and her whims and desires are not basic needs, but the flowers on the icing on the cake! I do understand that back in the day...back when these characters existed, that many times marriages were arranged or strongly suggested by parents. But, in Emma's case, she went into her marriage willingly, and thinking she was in love with Charles Bovary. A few months and a little boredom later and she was woefully unhappy. She was also very negligent to her baby daughter.

Flaubert is a very good writer and did a very good job of describing Emma's feelings and unfulfilled desires. I even felt sorry for her at one point, knowing how unhappy she was. She was the epitome of the unfulfilled stay-at-home mom. (Side note: I was a stay-at-home mom and was anything BUT unfulfilled!) Instead of diving into her interests, though, like reading and the arts, or heaven forbid...adoring her child, she became so very narcissistic. And when she began to, first, detest everything about her husband, who was a genuine, although, unambitious man, and, second, to let those feelings blossom into adulterous affairs, then she lost my sympathy.

Flaubert kept me turning the pages, though. Besides the three hours I spent yesterday watching my DVR'd episodes of Revenge, so I could be ready for the season finale last night, I could barely put the book down! :-)

I only made note of one passage to include here, but the entire book was really very good. In this passage, Emma Bovary meets the man who will later become her second lover. While her husband, Charles, is busy talking with the town pharmacist at dinner, she strikes up a conversation with a young law clerk from town, Leon. She does at this point become infatuated with Leon, but doesn't act on her feelings. She can't believe, though, that she has actually met someone who is as passionate about reading and romanticism as she. I love his description of reading!

"My wife doesn't care much for it (gardening)," said Charles. "She'd rather, even though she's been recommended to take exercise, stay in her room the whole time, reading."

"That's like me," remarked Leon. "What could be better, really, than an evening by the fire with a book, with the wind beating on the panes, the lamp burning?"

"I do so agree," she said, fixing on him her great black eyes open wide.

"Your head is empty," he continued, "the hours slip away. From your chair you wander through the countries of your mind, and your thoughts, threading themselves into the fiction, play about with the details or rush along the track of the plot. You melt into the characters; it seems as if your own heart is beating under their skin." 

"Oh, yes, that is true!" she said.

"Has it ever happened to you," Leon went on, "in a book you come across some vague idea you once had, some blurred image from deep down, something that just spells out your finest feelings?"

"I have had that," she answered.

"That," he said, "is why I particularly love the poets. I find verse more tender than prose, and it brings more tears to the eye."

"Though rather exhausting after a while," Emma went on, "and at the moment, you see, I adore stories that push on inexorably, frightening stories. I detest common heroes and temperate feelings, the way they are in life."
.....

Without realizing, while he was talking, Leon had put his foot on one of the bars of the chair in which Madame Bovary was sitting. She was wearing a little cravat made of blue silk, that made her tube-pleated batiste collar stick up like a ruff; and, whenever she moved her head, half her face was screened by the fabric or else was pleasingly revealed. So it was, side by side, while Charles and the pharmacist were chatting, they embarked on one of those vague conversations in which every random phrase always brings you back to the fixed centre of a mutual sympathy. Paris theatres, titles of novels, new quadrilles, and the society they knew nothing of, Tostes where she had lived, Yonville where they were, they went through it all, talked it over until the end of dinner.

After meeting Leon, and clearly meeting more of a soul mate, yet not acting on her feelings because of her husband and family, was probably when I had the most sympathy or understanding for Madame Bovary. However, when she then deteriorated into the selfish being she became, then I pretty much just told her character to "talk to the hand", and then I enjoyed the rest of the book for the good writing it put forth!