I bought a book of stories by de Maupassant at a used book sale nearly a year ago and today sat down and started reading some. I have only read a handful of stories thus far but I have been so enticed and moved that it might be near impossible to fall asleep without this in front of me. I only took a break from reading to talk to Joshua and discuss something I read on a forum earlier. It was more me complaining...people were praising Marquis de Sade; which disgusts me. But I digress.
I started with "The Necklace" which stirred up some feelings. Basically it goes like this; a woman is born into a poor family and marries a man no more wealthy than the way she was raised. The entirety of the marriage she is unhappy and focuses too much on acquiring greater things and going to fancy parties. She gets in invited to a party with her husband and makes him spend all his savings he had saved up for a hunting rifle to go with his friends on a new dress for herself. He does it for her because he loves. Then she borrows a diamond necklace from a friend. After the party she somehow loses it and she and her husband do what they can to find it to no avail. In the end they take out loans and borrow money to buy a duplicate to replace in and send the next 10 years working extremely hard to pay it all back. The woman ends up working herself so much she ages terribly, so much that several friends barely recognize her. When she meets that woman later in life she confesses it all and learn that the necklace wasn't worth more than $500.
It reminded me of my sister, sometimes I feel like she was born into the wrong family with way of doing things and her goals of the finer things. And you find it near impossible to feel bad for the protagonist, her husband you weep a bit for. In the end you feel like perhaps she was punished more than necessary, but it was a lesson she really needed to learn, too bad it was so late in life.
In his story "A Wife's Confession" I felt so very attached to the female character. She was romantic and beautiful but suffocated by a brute of a husband. He seemed to stifle her with his stubbornness. I love the description of him:
"...He created the impression that his mind was full of ready-made views instilled into him by his father and mother, who themselves got them from their ancestors. He never hesitated, but on every subject immediatly made a narrow-minded suggestions without showing any embarrassment and without realizing that there might be other ways of looking at things. One felt that his head was closed up, that no ideas circulated in it, none of those ideas which renew a man's mind and make it sound, like a breath of fresh air passing through an open window to a house."
(it actually reminds me of the joshua I dated in high school....) That might be why I connected with her so much. But Maupassant's way of telling stories is wonderful. I could just go one really. I am looking forward to reading more of his work this evening.
But i should calm down. I entered into an argument about Marquis de Sade. I find him deplorable and his work grotesque. The other though his work was amazing and a wonderful insight into the depths of the human mind. That thought is laughable. Marquis de Sade and his work hold a special place in the history of literature. This place needs to never be ventured into because it is simply filled with stories engrossed in acts of eroticism and rape so revolting that vomiting after reading would be an improvement upon the piece. His pushing of the proverbial envelope in order to get some desperately needed attention should not have been indulged. The idea that this is literature; that this is a great piece of art is insulting to every other book in existence.
But no one needs to hear my rants about him...
I will focus on the good authors, the ones whose word's struck a chord in my chest.
