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Saturday, July 1, 2017

Flaubert

So Frederic returns to Paris as a rich young man and immediately sets off in search of the Arnoux family - now that he's rich he suspects he can sweep Mme A off her feet so to speak - but on arrival he finds that the A's have moved inexplicably and given no forwarding info. He spends two frustrating (and comic) days trying to track them down for which we say serves you right - he is entirely Del-centered and a complete ingrate at this point in the novel. When he finds them m Arnoux explains that he had to give up hid line as an art dealer and go into ceramics because nobody is serious about art any longer - and F is foolish enough to believe this, while it's obvious to all readers that A is a scoundrel who had to run away from creditors. Making thing worse F goes off w A - leaving Mme at home - for a night of debauchery at one of the most decadent soirees in literature - the complete counterpart to the salons of, say, Proust - party ends w the guests literally smashing all the china and nobody seems to care except maybe A who provided the china to the host, his mistress. At this point we can only say to Frederic: if you can't see how worthless these people are you will get what you deserve. To top it off he spends a huge part of his inheritance buying and furnishing a new house - noting that there would be room to house his impoverished best friend but he doesn't want the guy around interfering w his efforts to seduce Mme Arnoux so he knocks out a wall and converts the extra bedroom into a smoking lounge. How petty and mean-spirited.

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