‘Madame Bovary’, Gustave Flaubert

Turns out I am the type of person to read Madame Bovary on the bus after all. Well, on my sofa actually, but you get my point. In my defence, it was somewhat foisted upon me – as the first book of the new Book Club I’m part of in Athens. I have attempted to run Book Clubs in the past but it’s never quite worked.

My first in Geneva started as it was to go on, with the 3 people who had actually read the book in the kitchen, discussing the concept of false memory in relation to the Holocaust, whilst the remaining 8 or so people sat in the living room and debated whether David Beckham had really had an affair with Rebecca Loos (he had). The same rapid deterioration of Book Club into social club also happened at my first one in Athens, partly through my reluctance to call people into order and seem like a party pooper. However the latest incarnation seems more promising, with only 3 of us, and all committed to actually reading the books and going so far as to discuss them for a protracted period of time.

So in the true spirit of Book Clubs I ended up reading something totally off my usual repertoire, namely Madame Bovary. This falls into my mental category of Anna Karenina, War & Peace, Bleak House.. all things that sounds long, boring and full of description that I’ll want to skip. I have had occasional successes – I did rather enjoy doing Hardy at school – but also failed to finish countless others. Madame Bovary did surprise me though. Helped by my speed-reading of it (forgetting Book Club was at the *beginning* of January, not the end…) I found it pretty engaging.

However discussing it later was much more interesting. I knew before I read it that the main plot was about a woman who had affairs. But I didn’t expect quite how much I would dislike her and fail to feel any empathy or sympathy at all. Not a jot. I’m sure it must reflect past experiences in my own life and people I know as I felt really quite affected by how much I disliked the protagonist – her selfish self-absorbed nature, only caring to pursue ‘’romance’’ at the expense of anyone else (including her own daughter) or any practical consideration. It rapidly emerged at Book Club that in fact the others didn’t agree with me at all – whilst they acknowledged that she did behave in her own self interest they felt sorry for her and felt a sense of sympathetic tragedy at her inability to be fulfilled. I have no idea of the general secondary literature on the subject and who is more typical of critical opinion (anyone care to illuminate me?). Of course now I’m worried there’s something of the Rorschach test about it (take your own!) and perhaps this tellingly uncovers my cynical bitter twisted nature.

I am looking forward with trepidation to the upcoming Book Club books, but rest assured I will share the pearly wisdom of my thoughts. Bet you can’t wait.