CR has a gypsy's virginity being restored by the moon, IIRC- Plus Byron, and Gutman- cripes I forget who else. 'Tis one of my favorites.

The thing that fascinates me about Conrad? That he'd take up writing stories as an adult, in a language he learned as an adult. Unfortunately, I found that the only interesting thing about the six weeks of "Heart of Darkness". (The horror! The horror!)

Madame Bovary had no effect on me at all. I read it, was entertained while I read it, and then forgot it.

Yo! Represent!

t high fives Betsy

Another Mme. Bovary hater. Mostly, I didn't see the point of all that pining and whingeing; and I am immensely resentful that so many see the novel as influential. If that novel's an influence on me, just go ahead and shoot me now.

My reaction is extreme, in this case. In most cases, I'm perfectly happy to read a book because it is/has been influentual, whether or not it's actively fun, as long as I've scheduled a fun (or at least fluffy) book next. And I don't usually actively resent the influentialness of a book, unless I'd like to throw its author into a fiery chasm.

Lords how I wish there was a "Biographies of Silver Screen Stars 1920-1960" major. I'd have the frickin PhD

I had exactly one professor who nurtured rebellion- who handed me lists of canonical works and books one had to have read to be considered 'literate' and smiled and nodded as I turned red and sputtered. The rest were rather stodgy folk who equated a disinterest in anything deemed classic or canonical to lack of intelligence.

Personally, I've felt that the value of any work of literature, theater, music, or film is exactly contained in the reader/viewer/listener experiencing it.

End rant.

I liked it. It didn't Change my Life or anything, though.

Oh, oh! The Awakening sucks. I haven't read Madame Bovary yet.

Personally, I've felt that the value of any work of literature, theater, music, or film is exactly contained in the reader/viewer/listener experiencing it.

And now, I am you.

I can't appreciate the prose style on account of not reading French, and I wanted to slap (A) Mme. B and (B) her entire milieu and social restrants silly.

You're not missing much, on the French. I read it for French class and thought it was sludge. Irritating book. I get very bored with writers who use a lot of symbolism ("the runaway carriage scene was really a metaphor for...") Oh, bite me, Gustave, and just tell me the damned story, already.

I do love Shakespeare, heart and soul. But Aimee, Nic - who was born poetry gene-deficient - loves Shakespeare for the stories, not the language.

A funny note, on reading the "good" stuff: along around age twenty, I dedided that polish up my French and I decided to do it by reading "À la recherche du temps perdu" in the original.

Why, yes, I was a thorough shmuck. Bad idea. Really really really bad idea.

About fifty pages in, on the verge of tears, I rang up my sister, who has a PhD in the French language. Hullo, Alice? Au secors, sister, I think my brain just fell out - I'm reading "Remembrance of Things Past" in French and I can't understand what it says. I mean, I can make the words make sentences, but I can't figure out what this book is about, or what he's talking about. I feel stupid. Help!

After she stopped laughing, she told me to carefully close the book and step away from it. She then explained that since the French version was completely dependent on the reader knowing not only insider French gossip and politics of the era but also the slang, she (PhD, yo) had been unable to figure it out either.

Brrrrrr. I never tried that again. Screw the intelligent good intentions. That experience was a brainbuster and an ego-smoosher.