READING: The Red and the Black
Julien Sorel is an asshole. And we've all dated him.
You know the type, he pretends to be soft, sensitive, in-tune with your feelings. He probably cries sometimes because this world was never meant for one as beautiful as him, but he tries to hide them in that way that says, "Look at me, I'm crying!" -- because he wants you to know how sensitive he is. He's moody, quiet. You never really feel like you get him; and you totally feel that not getting him is somehow your fault. If only I deserved him more, you find yourself thinking. Maybe if I showed him even more how much I care for him...
But the fact is, he's still an asshole. He's not sensitive to anyone other than himself and if you stop and think about it, the only times he really seemed in-tune with your feelings were times when you were mad at him and he talked you out of it, like that time he was supposed to call you to do something that one Saturday, so you blew off all your friends because he had said that it was really important that the two of you spent that time together, you know, he's got a lot of things on his mind, see, and really needs a friend -- someone who gets him -- because no one else really seems to, only he didn't call -- even when you left the house to teach him a lesson for 15 minutes, running to the store for a half-Coke-half-Cherry-Coke and a pack of Salem Lights (because you were dumb then and functioned under the illusion that smoking made you cool rather than phlegmy and stinky), and why didn't he call? 'Cause he was out late last night. He totally meant to show up or at least call but, you know, he didn't get home until 4AM or something and he's sorry. He didn't ruin your day, did he? Fuck, man, he's sorry; you guys'll totally get together another time, though, 'cause he still has some things to talk to you about. And the reason he's moody? Usually passive-aggressiveness, which, when you're in your early 20s, is some kind of freakin pheremone or something. And all those times he was quiet weren't because he was thinking deep thoughts that could only escape you. The truth is: he's just really dumb.
Julien Sorel is the anti-hero of Stendahl's The Red and the Black. When we first meet him, he's a lazy layabout, dreaming dreams of being Napoleon's BFF and making a fortune by joining the military -- just like his BFF Napoleon did. Only, turns out, this is France circa Bonapart's disfavor in France, and it's not a wise idea to be all, "Isn't Napoleon the dreamiest?" So, faking it to make it, Julien pretends like he's interested in joining the priesthood. And turns out, there's quiet a bit of status in being a priest, too, so it's not like he'd be compromising a lot of his dreams. Especially since all of his dreams involve getting a lot for very little effort.
Through some tricky dealing on his father's part, Julien ends up being the live-in tutor to the children of the mayor of the town, M. Rênal. It's assumed by many that Julien knows Latin; however, turns out, Julien only knows the New Testament in Latin, because he memorized it. There's a direct correlation between this scene and a scene from my own life when Young Bisexual Johnny had me convinced he could read tarot cards because his family was "steeped in magic." In my defense, I was very young (though Johnny was younger) and only half-believed him, not caring really, one way or the other, how skilled he was in the mystical arts. I just enjoyed spending time alone with him. Anyway, Julien only fake-knows Latin -- which ends up not really being an issue, since no one else really knows Latin, either. Julien ends up looking like a super genius.
Once ensconced in the family, he almost immediately begins a love affair with Mme. Rênal, M. Rênal's wife. One of the plot contrivances in a lot of novels -- not just 19th century love stories -- is infidelity, which I'm not so much with. It usually plays out the same way: the spouse being cheated on is described in terms that make him difficult to like, so the reader ends up egging on the affair: "Go on, Anna: your husband's an asshole anyway." The Red and the Black is no different -- only the reader ends up with a little bit of contempt for Mme. Rênal and M. Rênal because Julien despises them both a little. He's in this affair not so much because he loves Mme. Rênal, but because he likes the idea of sticking it to the man. Wait. That's not what I mean; it's not like Julien's gay or anything (though, when Mme. Rênal first sees him, she thinks he's a girl because he's so delicately beautiful). When Julien wants to stick it to the man, he wants to stick it to the man by sticking it to his bourgeoisie employer's wife. Which he hasn't yet -- though he's going to. Right now, where I've left off reading? He's in her room barefoot. I know: scandalous.
And that's where we are. If you find yourself wanting to read The Red and the Black yourself, and you don't have a lot of time, I'd recommend skipping ahead to chapter 6. All that happens in the first five chapters is a lot of description of the town and some business with some secondary characters which, so far, haven't really played out at all and anyway, even if they do end up being important, you'll pick up on that even if you don't read the first five chapters.
Where is this all going? Not sure. What I do know is that I don't know if I can deal with a whole novel that's nothing but Misogynistic Julien leading on and then pushing away Kinda Stupid Mme. Rênal. The writing is fine -- not as lovely as Flaubert's, but with a snarkier tone than Victor Hugo. And, like I said at the beginning of this paragraph, the repetitiveness is just on the verge of grating; let's hope something else happens, and soon.
You know the type, he pretends to be soft, sensitive, in-tune with your feelings. He probably cries sometimes because this world was never meant for one as beautiful as him, but he tries to hide them in that way that says, "Look at me, I'm crying!" -- because he wants you to know how sensitive he is. He's moody, quiet. You never really feel like you get him; and you totally feel that not getting him is somehow your fault. If only I deserved him more, you find yourself thinking. Maybe if I showed him even more how much I care for him...
But the fact is, he's still an asshole. He's not sensitive to anyone other than himself and if you stop and think about it, the only times he really seemed in-tune with your feelings were times when you were mad at him and he talked you out of it, like that time he was supposed to call you to do something that one Saturday, so you blew off all your friends because he had said that it was really important that the two of you spent that time together, you know, he's got a lot of things on his mind, see, and really needs a friend -- someone who gets him -- because no one else really seems to, only he didn't call -- even when you left the house to teach him a lesson for 15 minutes, running to the store for a half-Coke-half-Cherry-Coke and a pack of Salem Lights (because you were dumb then and functioned under the illusion that smoking made you cool rather than phlegmy and stinky), and why didn't he call? 'Cause he was out late last night. He totally meant to show up or at least call but, you know, he didn't get home until 4AM or something and he's sorry. He didn't ruin your day, did he? Fuck, man, he's sorry; you guys'll totally get together another time, though, 'cause he still has some things to talk to you about. And the reason he's moody? Usually passive-aggressiveness, which, when you're in your early 20s, is some kind of freakin pheremone or something. And all those times he was quiet weren't because he was thinking deep thoughts that could only escape you. The truth is: he's just really dumb.
Julien Sorel is the anti-hero of Stendahl's The Red and the Black. When we first meet him, he's a lazy layabout, dreaming dreams of being Napoleon's BFF and making a fortune by joining the military -- just like his BFF Napoleon did. Only, turns out, this is France circa Bonapart's disfavor in France, and it's not a wise idea to be all, "Isn't Napoleon the dreamiest?" So, faking it to make it, Julien pretends like he's interested in joining the priesthood. And turns out, there's quiet a bit of status in being a priest, too, so it's not like he'd be compromising a lot of his dreams. Especially since all of his dreams involve getting a lot for very little effort.
Through some tricky dealing on his father's part, Julien ends up being the live-in tutor to the children of the mayor of the town, M. Rênal. It's assumed by many that Julien knows Latin; however, turns out, Julien only knows the New Testament in Latin, because he memorized it. There's a direct correlation between this scene and a scene from my own life when Young Bisexual Johnny had me convinced he could read tarot cards because his family was "steeped in magic." In my defense, I was very young (though Johnny was younger) and only half-believed him, not caring really, one way or the other, how skilled he was in the mystical arts. I just enjoyed spending time alone with him. Anyway, Julien only fake-knows Latin -- which ends up not really being an issue, since no one else really knows Latin, either. Julien ends up looking like a super genius.
Once ensconced in the family, he almost immediately begins a love affair with Mme. Rênal, M. Rênal's wife. One of the plot contrivances in a lot of novels -- not just 19th century love stories -- is infidelity, which I'm not so much with. It usually plays out the same way: the spouse being cheated on is described in terms that make him difficult to like, so the reader ends up egging on the affair: "Go on, Anna: your husband's an asshole anyway." The Red and the Black is no different -- only the reader ends up with a little bit of contempt for Mme. Rênal and M. Rênal because Julien despises them both a little. He's in this affair not so much because he loves Mme. Rênal, but because he likes the idea of sticking it to the man. Wait. That's not what I mean; it's not like Julien's gay or anything (though, when Mme. Rênal first sees him, she thinks he's a girl because he's so delicately beautiful). When Julien wants to stick it to the man, he wants to stick it to the man by sticking it to his bourgeoisie employer's wife. Which he hasn't yet -- though he's going to. Right now, where I've left off reading? He's in her room barefoot. I know: scandalous.
And that's where we are. If you find yourself wanting to read The Red and the Black yourself, and you don't have a lot of time, I'd recommend skipping ahead to chapter 6. All that happens in the first five chapters is a lot of description of the town and some business with some secondary characters which, so far, haven't really played out at all and anyway, even if they do end up being important, you'll pick up on that even if you don't read the first five chapters.
Where is this all going? Not sure. What I do know is that I don't know if I can deal with a whole novel that's nothing but Misogynistic Julien leading on and then pushing away Kinda Stupid Mme. Rênal. The writing is fine -- not as lovely as Flaubert's, but with a snarkier tone than Victor Hugo. And, like I said at the beginning of this paragraph, the repetitiveness is just on the verge of grating; let's hope something else happens, and soon.
posted by Mike at 11:14 AM
1 Comments:
actually, I am reading The Red and the Black... but moved house and lost the book about 3 months ago :-\
It's in a box somewhere - we haven't unpacked yet - do I need a spoiler warning for your other posts on the book?
I like your blog.
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