We shouldn't maltreat our idols: the gilt comes off on our hands

'Whereas the truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.'


just finished Madame Bovary - really damn depressing book, is not up there with good old Hardy (anyone else wanna top themselves at the end of Tess?), but still one of those books that can be quite hard to read 'cos you just know it's gonna turn out horribly

regardless tho, as much as the story is kinda unpalatable (woman's life is destroyed via her adulteries) and the protagonist generally unsympathetic (although how much is it her fault? tough call) the language is just flaming wonderful. some passages just kinda sneak up on you and stop you in your tracks by their sheer elegance


'She would come directly, charming, agitated, looking back at the glances that followed her, and with her flounced dress, her gold eyeglass, her thin shoes, with all sorts of elegant trifles that he never enjoyed, and with the ineffable seduction of yielding virtue.'


plus he's one of those great writers who totally get the way it works inside a persons head, the way we justify our actions to ourselves and act out scenes from an idealised life we've created for ourselves. for all that Madame B is capricious and spoilt she merely represents the way we act when we're at our weakest and most self centered.


'"What's improper about it?" retorted the clerk. "Everybody does it in Paris!"
It was an irresistible and conclusive argument.'


hehe - love it