| Title | : | A Simple Heart |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0811213188 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780811213189 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 68 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1877 |
In
A Simple Heart Reviews
-
Her vocation was to serve others…
For half a century, the housewives of Pont-l’Évêque envied Madame Aubain her servant, Félicité.
For a hundred francs a year, she did the cooking and cleaning, sewed, did the laundry, ironed, knew how to bridle a horse, fatten fowl, churn butter, and remained loyal to her mistress – who, however, was not a pleasant person.
Miserable childhood… Brief unhappy love… At last she became a loyal housemaid… She found her faith and she humbly served God…Sowings, harvests, wine presses, all those familiar things the Gospel speaks of, existed in her life; the passage of God had sanctified them; and she loved lambs more tenderly for love of the Lamb, doves because of the Holy Ghost.
She found it difficult to imagine his appearance; for he was not only a bird, but also a fire, and other times a breath. It might be his light that flutters about at night on the edges of swamps, his breathing that pushes the clouds, his voice that makes bells harmonious; and she remained in adoration, taking pleasure in the coolness of the walls and the tranquility of the church.
She was ready to do everything for the sake of her young nephew but he died of fever… Then she devoted herself to her mistress’s adolescent daughter but the daughter also died… When her mistress gave her the parrot, she started to live for the parrot’s sake…They had conversations, he, uttering over and over the three phrases in his repertoire, and she, replying with words that were no more connected than they, but in which her heart poured forth. Loulou, in her isolation, was almost a son, a lover. He climbed up her fingers, nibbled at her lips, held on to her kerchief; and, when she tilted her head forward and shook it the way nannies do, the large wings of the bonnet and the wings of the bird quivered together.
One day the parrot died too… She got him stuffed… And the stuffed parrot became her idol, the iconic embodiment of the Holy Ghost… And on her deathbed, with her last breath, in the wide open sky, she saw God.
To everyone God is exactly what one wishes God to be. -
So, what’s your take on this emotionally complex study of an elderly woman’s simple credulity?
My own is simply “why CAN’T the Holy Spirit choose to manifest itself to her as an Amazon Parrot?” There are plainly more things in Heaven and Earth than are even Dreamt of in our philosophy!
***
It was on a warm summer evening in coastal British Columbia several years ago - while I was staying at my Dad’s place - that I finally, after so many years of putting it off, read this classic from the curriculum of so many half-remembered high school French courses.
My bedroom for the duration was the sunroom of Dad’s cottage, infamous to us visiting siblings for the presence of a large skylight over the hide-a-bed: no languorous awakening here. Only, as Mallarme envisaged, the clarion call of bright sunlit réveillé!
Such is life in the real world.
The book, totally and ironically objective, belonged to my stepmom. But Gustave Flaubert’s real world was in actual fact anything but objective. It was surreal.
In fact, it was a phantasmagorical mélange of the sacred and the jarringly profane, of the arcane individuality of his characters amid the absurdity of an outré twilit Demi-monde.
It was Nightworld from Ulysses.
So how does a simple heart like this old lady’s fare in such a literary mis à scène as that?
That’s easy.
It doesn’t - and here’s the rub: to all modern appearances, la vieille dame is lost in a world of dementia.
But seeing the world as MADAME sees it, and as the genius Flaubert tells it, it’s a world of Faith.
Point final.
But oh, you say, what a SKEWED Faith it must be! Let’s consider that, then...
For isn’t every child’s faith skewed? Flaubert's still was. And isn’t that the reason kids are taught the catechism? Flaubert was as screwy as they seem to be.
And didn’t the Lord say unless we believe as a little kid there’s NO WAY we’ll get into Heaven (and isn’t that the ONLY prerequisite, however black your soul may be)?
So the heroine believes - with all her heart - and that’s ALL she needs.
Whatever we cynically 'wise' moderns might think!
And THAT’s Flaubert’s Masterstroke.
And his screwy faith. -
Sincere
A Simple Heart is a heartrending sincere story of a maid, Félicité Barette, and her kind-hearted and forthright life, even when faced with abuse, poverty, loss and loneliness. Gustave Flaubert wrote this short story under encouragement from his good friend and author George Sand. The challenge was to create the main protagonist as someone very different from the satirical and corruptible characters in his previous novels, such as Madame Bovary.
The vivid images of the historic towns and countryside are beautifully portrayed by Flaubert and the landscapes adorn this profound story. A Simple Heart is a literary piece which can be interpreted by the reader in an ironic or metaphorical manner. However, the suggestion that Flaubert’s intent is to portray the life of a simple, pious and powerless woman who spends her life in servitude, maybe more accurate, especially as she's based on his own family's maid. Félicité is unconditionally loving, regardless of abuse and adversity. She is conspicuously diligent, with only a meagre reward and selfless without expectation.“Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, she looked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tell her age; erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figure working automatically.”
Félicité endures hardships in her early life often being beaten and wrongly accused of theft. During a particular period she met a young man Théodore whom she was romantically involved, only to be relayed a message that he married an older woman to avoid conscription into the army. She eventually goes to work for Madame Aubain as cook, housemaid and nanny to her young children, Paul and Virginie. Félicité undertakes her duties with the utmost dedication and remains in the employ of Madam Aubain for fifty years.
Throughout the fifty years as a maid, Félicité establishes a bond with the children especially Virginie, and her nephew Victor, who is a sailor. Both die young of pneumonia and yellow fever and leave a heart-breaking toll on Félicité. As the years pass she becomes more kind-hearted, helping soldiers, refugees, victims of cholera and other sicknesses. One day a friend of Madame Aubain’s, Madame de Larsonniere, leaves a noisy parrot to the household, and eventually, Félicité takes ownership. The parrot is called Loulou and it played an important part in the remainder of Félicité’s life – both alive and stuffed after its death. In fact, on her death-bed, she sees a vision of the Holy Spirit in the large form of her parrot.“A blue vapour rose in Félicité’s room. She opened her nostrils and inhaled with a mystic sensuousness; then she closed her lids. Her lips smiled. The beats of her heart grew fainter and fainter, and vaguer, like a fountain giving out, like an echo dying away;—and when she exhaled her last breath, she thought she saw in the half-opened heavens a gigantic parrot hovering above her head.”
The context of the parrot in the story is open for debate, is it a parody of an expectation which awaits the pious person at the end of life or does it represent her last love come to escort her to heaven?
I would recommend reading this book for its beautiful prose and as an insight into Gustave Flaubert. Interestingly he placed a stuffed parrot on his desk while he wrote this story and detested the sight of it at the end. -
![©hrissie ❁ [1st week on campus-somewhat run-down]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/users/1610034740i/49071166._UX200_CR0,20,200,200_.jpg)
I knew this would happen. One moment I am fully resolute, having rationalised the sorry fact that this is not the 'right time' for me to be going all French again in my reading. The next, my hand is surreptitiously reaching out for the slim volume of 'A Simple Heart' (1877), all the while blaming this modest betrayal on Julian Barnes, whose Metroland (1980) and The Man in The Red Coat (2019) brought about the discovery of our shared predilection for all things French. Was it, then, possible for me not to give in to the charms promised by his Flaubert's Parrot (1984)? I confess that I did not entertain the question for too long.
So there you have it: this is all on you, Barnes; and with my conscience half-convincingly lightened, I hungrily read through my Flaubert, wanting to tentatively test what in this story would have inspired Barnes's novel. Well, that went out of the window a few pages in, when Loulou the parrot had not yet made his appearance. Because I was fully immersed in the fate of Felicité, Madame Audain's envy-inducing servant. Pont-l’Évêque, where much of the story is set, is itself set apart from the bustling of cities, underscoring the intensifying aloneness of Felicité's existence. The mastery of Flaubert's realist storytelling cannot escape notice: the short form does nothing to detract from his agile, full writing. Felicité's miserable upbringing, her frustrated first love with Théodore, and consequent retreat to Madame's abode and the consolatory comforts of religion all combine to trace the character of one who 'seemed like a woman made of wood, functioning in an automatic way.' And yet Felicité is simple, her heart gentle and tender -- hard not to remember an Agnes Grey, whose misfortunes at the hands of Anne Brontë, in 1847, strike me as being of a less cruel and coarse order, by comparison. She too is gentle, though, notwithstanding the All that works against humanity's gentle grain. Felicité, however, has no one by her side, except for the company of Loulou, the one enchanting presence which endures beyond the stumbling border of death: 'Loulou, in her isolation, was almost a son, a lover.' 🐦 Perhaps grotesquely so -- stuffed for permanence's sake. Also, grotesquely, 'standing in for' the Holy Ghost, in Felicité's imagination; a parrot as the receptor of her prayers.
Of course, there is a bunch of people she cares about immensely, but collecting relics that remind her of them is the only other comfort -- of sorts -- Felicité is left with. Because Flaubert has other plans in store for her, dispassionately killing off her loved ones one by one, or sending them far away from her, unreachable. His talent in doing so is remarkable: for the brisk heartlessness of it ceases to be so by dint of simple, uneducated Felicité's capacity for feeling. In a sense, she becomes deaf -- both literally and metaphorically -- to the noise of life.'The little circle of her ideas grew even smaller, and the peal of the bells, the lowing of the oxen, did not exist any more. All beings functioned with the silence of phantoms. One single noise reached her ears now, the voice of the parrot.'
Colour and sound, safeguarded by Loulou, temper the bleak procession of mourning, death, the void. And it is indeed a procession -- festive, this time; loud, vibrant, buzzing, in celebration of the patron feast -- that sets the scene for the approaching end. By this time, the meter plainly tells of a soberly moving story which reaches its heightened manifestation in the concluding note. 🌹'and, when she exhaled her last breath, she thought she saw, as the skies parted, a giant parrot, hovering above her head.'
💐
Thank you, Flaubert, for telling the unadorned story of Felicité and her parrot. It reminds me that the literary world needs to tell stories of those who are always and already destined to be forgotten, because of who and what they are, and who and what they are not. Those who are happily no longer so: (re)incarnated through words. -
Part of Found in Translation short stories anthology
Boring, boring, boring
I loved Madame Bovary but this one not so much. I do not say it wasn’t written well but all I wanted was to be done with it. A young woman dedicates her life to serve others, is disappointed by how people treat her and how life hits her, founds refuge in god, is gifted a parrot, goes mad, thinks the bird is god, dies.
Julian Barnes’s Flaubert Parrot is inspired by this story. I just hope it will be more interesting as I already have it. -
As in Madame Bovary a playful knowing permeates every line Flaubert writes. He will not keep secrets from you, he will let you see everyone's character and intentions as soon as they make appearance on the stage. You just know them. The trouble is, by the end you're still struggling to put it all together. You understand too much or perhaps understand too little. You keep oscillating like a pendulum.
I might be off the mark but Félicité comes off as the antitype of all that makes Emma Bovary, Emma Bovary; yet she is also her psychological twin in that she invents an object of affection on which she might pour out her love, something to anchor her existence beyond the fact of mere being. This time it's a parrot. Is this an allusion to something greater than the story we're being told? Most definitely, even if the eventual interpretation stands outside the text.
When she went to church, she would sit gazing at the picture of Holy Spirit and it struck her that it looked rather like her parrot..
I think it's a deceptively simple story with larger import. I loved the flawless character development with the help of ordinary details telling on the larger currents of Félicité's "simple" life, her dreams and troubles. Although my reading might well have been influenced by having Madame Bovary by the side, but in both cases Flaubert subjects them to the rigours of life in search of happiness, which is always illusive whether you're the reviled Emma Bovary or a model of propriety like Félicité.
It's interesting that the protagonist, who is a maid of a propertied household, carries the same name as Emma's maid from the other novel: the selfsame Félicité.
March '16 -
The opening sentence introduces Félicité as the perfect servant in every way. She is also devoted to her faith, despite the tragedies and traumas in her past. Flaubert’s famous realism is plain, as is the language. There are some shafts of light and beauty, and ultimately humour, but mostly it's tragedy.
I read it for the story but got bogged down in translation issues.
The story and setting
The first chapter introduces Félicité and her somewhat disagreeable employer, the widowed Madame Aubain. The second starts with Félicité’s backstory and then draws in Madame and her young children, Paul and Virginie. There’s a dramatic and symbolic incident with a bull, and a trip to the coast for Virginie’s health.
The third chapter is the longest. It starts with Félicité taking Virginie to daily catechism. Sitting apart, copying what the children say and do, stirs a simple faith, although she can’t picture the Holy Spirit, which, she learns, could be a bird, a flame, and even a breath:
“Perhaps it is its light that at night hovers over swamps, its breath that propels the clouds, its voice that renders church-bells harmonious.”
As she watches, she almost feels the rapture of Virginie’s first communion, but when she herself asks for hers the next morning, it’s not the same. Just one of many disappointments in her life, and far from the worst.
Virginie is despatched to a convent to be educated and both women endure her absence differently (Paul has already gone away to school). Félicité fills the void with visits from her nephew, Victor, though his parents take advantage, and that thread doesn’t end happily. And then there’s another tragedy. Faith weaves through it, but it offers little succour. The name Virginie (or Virginia, in some translations) is surely no coincidence, but the name Félicité (happiness) seems cruelly ironic.
The parrot
Image: Félicité Sleeping, with parrot, David Hockney, 1974 (
Source)
Loulou, the parrot that inspired Julian Barnes’
Flaubert's Parrot, is given to Madame. She gives him to Félicité, who adores him like a son or a lover. (Which? They should be very different!) When he dies, she has him stuffed and keeps him in her room, which is already like a cross between a chapel and a bazaar. Gradually, the stuffed and worm-ridden Loulou overlaps with, and maybe supplants, God in her increasingly enfeebled mind.
Félicité’s wish for Loulou is reflected in her final vision. The closing sentence is presumably intended to be profound, but I had to stifle a laugh. Perhaps too much mention of a dead parrot had put me in mind of Monty Python’s most famous sketch,
HERE.
“The unexamined life is not worth living”
A famous line from Socrates, and presumably an idea in Flaubert’s mind. Félicité is not given to introspection, but Flaubert presents her life for us to examine. She seems to make few marks on the world and leaves no descendants or other family, though people exploit her good nature.
But she touches many in small ways that do make a difference, such as tending to cholera victims and offering a drink to passing soldiers. Everyone she cares about, let alone loves, she loses, so was her life worth living? Only she could answer, but I think Flaubert suggests the affirmative. If in doubt, think of the starfish analogy,
HERE.
Image: A starfish being returned to the sea: it makes a difference for that one (
Source)
The problems of translating le mot juste
In
The Art of the Short Story, this story is prefaced with a short biography of Flaubert and followed by an extract of a letter he wrote while working on Madame Bovary (see my ancient and very brief review
HERE). Both stress his devotion to realism by honing his text to achieve stylistic perfection, finding the perfect word in every instance. Comparing translations made me question the validity of reading a translation at all.
I started off with John Siscoe’s, which is in the anthology. His first two sentences describe Félicité, and the next starts “She”, referring to the mistress, which confused me, even though she had been mentioned at the end of the previous sentence. A few pages later, it referred to Paul and Virginie's grandparents as “defunct”, rather than dead or deceased!
Thereafter, I switched between Siscoe and Gutenberg, which was interesting, sometimes infuriating, and occasionally funny. But it distracted me from the story itself. I wish I’d picked one (or none?) and stuck with it.
Neither translation won my heart
Sometimes I preferred Siscoe:
• “At twenty-five she looked forty. Once past fifty, she seemed ageless. Always silent, her back straight, her movements precise, she resembled a woman of wood, functioning like clockwork.” - Siscoe
versus
• “When she was twenty-five, she looked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tell her age; erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figure working automatically.” - Gutenberg
In this, I prefer Gutenberg - except for the final word:
• “The lazy surf tumbled onto the sands that stretched as far as the eye can see, while landward the beach ended in dunes bordering the Marais, a large meadow shaped like a horsetrack.” - Siscoe
versus
• “The sleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled themselves along the shore that extended as far as the eye could see, but where land began, it was limited by the downs which separated it from the “Swamp,” a large meadow shaped like a hippodrome.” - Gutenberg
Siscoe’s first two words distracted me from the intended imagery:
• “Bright day painted bars of dazzling light between the windowblinds.” - Siscoe
versus
• “The dazzling sunlight cast bars of light between the shutters.” - Gutenberg
At times, they were so different, it was hard to compare them.
• “All things rested, steeped in silence.” Siscoe
versus
• “This silence intensified the tranquility of everything.” - Gutenberg
Important points were rendered utterly differently:
• When Paul goes to boarding school, Siscoe says he said his goodbyes “cheerfully” but Gutenberg says “bravely”; there’s a chasm between those two words, and I have no idea which is closer to Flaubert’s intent.
• When Virginie goes away to school, Siscoe says Madame “broke down” but Gutenberg says she “had a fainting spell”: the former is conscious and emotional, but the latter is a loss of consciousness.
• When Félicité hopes to see Victor’s house in an atlas, Siscoe says Monsieur Bourais is delighted by her “simplicity” where Gutenberg calls it “ignorance”.
I know translation is a tricky art, but the differences are inexplicably wide and tell different stories. In a plot-based piece it might not matter as much, but in this, as for poetry, I wonder to what extent I’m reading the original author’s thoughts.
Short story club
I read this as one of the stories in
The Art of the Short Story, by Dana Gioia, from which I'm aiming to read one story a week with
The Short Story Club, starting 2 May 2022.
You can read this story
here.
You can join the group
here. -
What is the breath of a (simple) soul?
George Gurdjieff used to say that very few people have souls, one is not born with a soul, but only with a seed which can grow into a soul-which may not grow. One has to create the right soil, the right climate for it to grow, to bloom. But, how to provoke the spring to come to you so that your soul can flower?
For Felicite part, a state of simple soul is an innocent and silent state, utterly relaxed and blissfully unaware of her own awareness. She lives her whole life in simplicity but courageously, sharing her simple, natural, spontaenous way. She is a very illiterate person, doesn't know the language, cannot write and read. She is carrying her ordinary life affair in the day-to-day world. Everything is happening on its own accord, and it has become like one's heartbeat. Even death- it is a simple phenomenon- just like saying- my boat has come and I have to leave.
I learned how to appreciate Felicite's choices-to stick to faithfully and to love (a) concrete human beings, concrete trees, a garden, a home, a parrot, the immediate of what was surrounding her. A beautiful simple soul-that lived and left behind the marks of the subtle path of love. Unique. All in just 30 minutes read. -
A good Flaubert but not the best, in my opinion; it follows the life of a woman with a string of misfortunes: first, she lives an unhappy childhood, then finds a job with a widow and her two children she focuses on, but they quickly leave the house, then it's his nephew's turn to die and so on.
Of course, what is to salute is the author's pen: the descriptions are realistic and the writing magnificent.
It's a tale that reads quickly and makes you want to rediscover Flaubert. -
![Celeste Corrêa [ Férias]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/users/1710705591i/88222355._UY200_CR3,0,200,200_.jpg)
Félicité, uma mulher simples, dedicou décadas de trabalho à Sra. Aubain, uma viúva com alguns recursos. Ela cuidava de tudo na casa, tratava das crianças, Paul e Virginie, e mimava o seu sobrinho Victor, que surgiu inesperadamente na sua vida. A sua visão do mundo é simples e baseada em experiências imediatas; uma vida marcada por perdas, é, no entanto, dotada de um profundo sentimento de amor no seu sentido mais puro e abnegado. Nasceu para amar e servir e até a morte da patroa lhe pareceu contrária à ordem natural das coisas.
Quando fica sozinha no mundo, transmite todo esse amor para um papagaio que idolatra como um santo num altar - um êxtase que une o profano com o religioso.
Senti compaixão mas também admiração por esta mulher, a sua infinita dávida de amor, altruísmo e heroísmo. Quero pensar que foi feliz à sua maneira, ou Flaubert não a teria nomeado como "Félicité".
Esta novela pretendia ser um tributo a George Sand, amiga de Flaubert, que faleceu antes de sua conclusão, e surgiu como fruto de um debate entre ambos sobre a importância do realismo.
Ao procurar uma boa tradução, encontrei em espanhol a vasta e interessante correspondência trocada entre os dois autores e ainda aprendi que Félicité foi inspirada em Julie, uma empregada de Flaubert.
-
A Simple Heart is a simple story about a selfless woman, who is resigned to life calamities, and who is rewarded at the end for her patience and virtue with eternal peace.
Felicity is not a fortunate woman. Rejection, disappointment, and loss seem to be her lot in life. But all through these misfortunes, she remains selfless, living for others, loving them with a pure, simple heart. Her goodness is trodden upon by the manipulating relatives and her mistress, but her forgiving heart stays true to them. Her strength is her faith in God, and that faith sees her through all her miseries.
Felicity is a sensitive creation of Flaubert. She is simple and uneducated, but, the wealth of her heart surpasses none. This is my first experience with such a character in a Flaubert novel, and I liked her very much.
The story was good and I enjoyed it. Flaubert has done justice to both the character and the story. I also appreciated his thematic choice. However, I wished there was a little more emotional output, but, there is so much that one can do in a short story. -
I’ll give this 3.5
This is a novella by a French writer about a girl named Felicite, it takes place in the mid 1800’s.. Felicite has had a sad past and leaves town and becomes a servant to a widow with two young children.
She never leaves this house, lives her humble life in servitude to this family.
It was a sad little story. -
This is a very simple story which is unlike the rest of Flaubert's work (I think) in its hard outlook, lack of satire and irony. George Sand goaded him into it, into writing something purely serious. It's about a servant with a rough life who acquires and loves a parrot. Nothing spectacular, not like the rest of Flaubert I think I've read. My friend Numidica recommended it and Julian Barnes's Flaubert's Parrot to me, letting me know this novella is a prerequisite for Barnes. For the parrot.
Reader, I have absolutely no gift for languages. Required to take Spanish and French for years in school, I know almost none of either; frankly I don't know how I ever passed, semester after semester. I'll never do a triathlon but I'm fine with that. I'm not fine with the language deficit but there's nothing I can do. Goodreads has highlighted it. I sigh as friends read works in the original language. I'm in awe of the author and the person I follow who are professional translators, and my many GR friends who are multilingual, some of whom speak better English than I do. If I could speak another language, I would choose French.
I'm half French, and the one person my grandmother picked out to be able to learn and speak it with her. She complained often about my inability (though as I write it occurs to me not once did she try to teach me). When my mother was in early grades her parents spent time in Paris specifically so she could attend school there. At home she heard French as one of three first languages, but my mother apparently left her French on the ship that brought them back to the U.S. Grand-mere's focus was always on me. I can see herdisapprovingcrabby looks now.
French hurts most because Proust is my favorite author and Madame Bovary my favorite novel. I've read Proust in two translations: the original Moncrieff revised by Kilmartin and now all but the last volume of the new Penguin, with its separate translators for each edition. The last volume won't be published for a few more years.
This I think I know: Lydia Davis's translations are magnificent to read. Reading her translations of Madame Bovary and of Swann's Way I felt, from the beginning of each, change, I felt closer to the work, loved each more. Now I'm reading the first volume of Flaubert's letters and even when he's fourteen, writing letters to his best friend, it's the same voice, the same style and wit I read in Davis so whether I truly am or not, when I read the letters it seems like I'm curled up with Flaubert.
This I know I don't know: Am I truly reading Proust and Flaubert? Much as I love them in English, how am I to know what and how much I'm missing? Always when we read translations we're aware we're reading someone else's work. And I just finished a lovely French novel that seems beautifully organic.
A few nights ago scrolling I saw photos of a GR friend's copy of a hundredth anniversary edition of Proust's original marked-up manuscript. It was late, I was headed for bed but seeing those photos woke me up like a loud clap of thunder. I enlarged them, pored over them though I couldn't read them. That night I turned over in bed for a long time, possibly fifty pages' worth, thinking about this treasure -- his never-ending revisions, crossed out passages, deletions, additions -- that I will never know. I've seen his handwriting now but that's small consolation.
Which brings me back to A Simple Heart. I paid for this version with the pink cover, translated by Charlotte Mandell, after getting this one with its three novellas,
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
translator not credited, for free. I thought because it cost money it must be better. I've read Nabokov's lecture on Madame Bovary with its frequent complaints about the many mistranslated words and phrases, his marginalia, in one instance a list of insects about ten different translators identified differently and every one, he said, was wrong. But there's the Lydia Davis: I love it and he didn't live to pick that apart.
I had no plan to do what I did, I did it because this story isn't long and when I engage with a book I can be like a dog gnawing on a bone. At my desk, laid out side by side were my tablet with the pink version and my Paperwhite with the other. Reading them simultaneously confirmed my unease and reading-fear.
Flaubert was so fussy with his words. The sense of the story is the same in each edition. But I don't know which is closest to Flaubert. In the passages below, quotes from the pink version are in italics, from the other in plain text.
Her grief was uncontrollable.
?
The poor girl's sorrow was frightful.
Virginie fed the rabbits, hurried off to gather blueberries, and the quickness of her legs revealed her little embroidered knickers.
?
Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pick the wild flowers in the fields, and her flying legs would disclose her little embroidered pantalettes.
Old Mother Liébard, seeing her mistress, was lavish with demonstrations of joy. She served her a lunch that included sirloin, tripe, blood sausage, chicken fricassee, frothy cider, a tart of stewed fruit, and plums in brandy
?
Mother Liebard, when she caught sight of her mistress, was lavish with joyful demonstrations. She got up a lunch which comprised a leg of mutton, tripe, sausages, a chicken fricassee, sweet cider, a fruit tart and some preserved prunes
Finally she returned home, exhausted, her shoes in tatters, death in her soul; and, sitting in the middle of the bench, next to Madame, she was telling her about all her attempts, when a light weight fell on her shoulder: Loulou! What the devil had he been doing? Perhaps he had been strolling about in the neighborhood!
?
At last she came home, exhausted, with her slippers worn to shreds, and despair in her heart. She sat down on the bench near Madame and was telling of her search when presently a light weight dropped on her shoulder — Loulou! What the deuce had he been doing? Perhaps he had just taken a little walk around the town!
What the deuce indeed. -
"In her mind, the one became associated with the other, the parrot becoming sanctified by connection with the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirit in turn aquiring added life and meaning."
- Gustave Flaubert, A Simple Heart
Vol N° 45 of my Penguin
Little Black Classics Box Set. This volume contains Flaubert's story "A Simple Heart" or "The Parrot". It was translated by by Roger Whitehouse in 2005. The story appeared first in Flaubert's collection
Three Tales in 1877.
The story relates the life of Barette Felicité, a poor servant girl, who eventually ends up in the Aubain household (a widow and her two children). Felicité seems to be almost the exact opposite of Mme Bovary. She is quiet, and lives a mostly uneventful life full of love. She has no husband, no children, no wealth. She does, however, love those around her and serves the children of her mistress, her mistress, her nephew, and her neighbors with a Christian charity and powerful love that is as devout as it is humble.
She also has a pet parrot, towards the end of the story, that takes this story to the next level. There was something about Flaubert's humor, his cheeky openness and his ability ot wrap this story up with a quasi-mystical and absurd bow that just blew me away. I've got Julian Barnes'
Flaubert's Parrot on my to-read shelf, but this shoved that book a lot nearer. -
Félicité. What a beautiful name. It means bliss. It means joy. As opposed to her name, Félicité led a desolated life whilst she yearned to give her love to someone. She was destined to live a sad fate.
What a heart-breaking short story. What a wonderful way Flaubert had with words expressing melancholy.
Thanks to the Short-Story-Reading-Club for this great recommendation!
#GroupReading -
How are editors paid? No, seriously, I'd like to know, because I reckon what happened with this livre de poche edition, which admittedly was very reasonably priced, what happened was that the publishers decided to change Ms Azéma's contract.
"Mme Azéma, so glad to reach you. We have decided, for the new edition of Flaubert's Un Coeur Simple, to put you on piece rates. Shall we say 20 cents per annotation? Thank you. Goodbye"
End of phone call. So to make sure that Librairie Générale Française never tried that stoopid idea again, Mme Azéma annotated it to distraction, to destruction, she didn't so much annotate it as annihilate it. She invented for herself a putative reader who not only needs a little help with the nomenclature of 19th Century horse-drawn vehicles - it is, after all, the rare man who knows his brougham from his berlingot, or his calèche from his coche - but furthermore has never, apparently, read anything set in the 19th Century ever before, has never heard of religion, and even, perhaps, has never even read a book before. Thus, it is dutifully pointed out to us that 'un enfant naturel' is one born out of wedlock, or that when Paul, at last, at the grand age of 36, finds a steady, respectable job in local administration, and shows a certain talent, such that his boss offers him his daughter, that this means in marriage (and not for the white slave trade, a sideline of the Normandy Registrar's Office, presumably) or when we see the local priest put the girls on one side of the church and the boys on the other then we are told that the sexes are separated - well yes, that's what I'd noticed too. I don't need to be told what catarrh is, or jalousies, thank you, and although I am not Catholic, I really don't need to have such obscure concepts as confession, communion or dogma explained, and thank you very much, I'm quite aware of why people light a candle in church, or ask for the priest on their deathbed. BUT* the worst crime is that Mme Azéma not only distracts the reader from the text at every turn, like some buzzing bluebottle batting fruitlessly against the windowpane, she also INSTRUCTS the reader how to interpret what they are reading, such irritating remarks as "This is irony" or "This is free indirect speech and reflects the thoughts of Félicité." Grrrrrrrrrrrr.
Aah, you will say, but surely you don't have to read all the notes, you can just ignore them. That is easier said than done, especially when they are lurking at the bottom of the page, catching your eye, it's a bit like watching a film with subtitles in a language you also understand, it's almost impossible not to check on how they are translating that particular idiom, and oh look, they left a bit out there....
I ran, screaming, to the internet:
http://www.atramenta.net/lire/un-coeu...
When it comes to Flaubert's story rather than the notes, I can hardly better Julian Barnes, in
Flaubert's Parrot: "The control of tone is vital. Imagine the technical difficulty of writing a story in which a badly-stuffed bird with a ridiculous name ends up standing in for one third of the Trinity**, and in which the intention is neither satirical, sentimental, nor blasphemous." Julian Barnes calls it a "perfect and controlled example of the Flaubertian grotesque". Which it is, of course it is grotesque. But tender, oh so tender.
I also watched, in wonder, Sandrine Bonnaire*** and Marina Fois**** as Félicité and Mme Aubain, respectively:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjKRN...
Beautifully done, atmospheric, affecting and fantastic acting (Sandrine Bonnaire!) But not a lot to do with Flaubert. Félicité was not so much pious as sexually frustrated. The parrot was red(!)
I wonder how Mme Azamé would have annotated that?
*BUT usually introduces a contrast, in this case however it introduces the climax of a series of negatives.
**the three persons of the Christian Godhead; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The parrot represents the Holy Spirit.
***French actress.
****Another French actress.
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To me, the point of Flaubert's famous novella is the contrast between the unyielding grimness and ugliness of the subject-matter and the extraordinary serenity and beauty of the style. This doesn't quite work in translation; I see a number of puzzled reviews. But if you want to find out what you've been missing, I've just used the new methods we've been developing to construct a
LARA version out of high-class audio from the litteratureaudio.com site, the English translation available on Gutenberg, and a state-of-the-art text to speech engine. In Chrome or Firefox, you can listen to it a page at a time, a sentence at a time, or a word at a time. Hovering over a pencil icon shows you a translation of the previous sentence, and clicking on a word shows you all the places it occurs in the text, plus in most cases a link to a French lexicon page.
I'm curious to know if this changes anyone's mind about the story. If it does, please let me know! -
So, this is where Julian Barnes gets the idea for his novel
Flaubert's Parrot. Set in 19th century France, this is a simple, yet beautiful story of loyal and persistent Felicite. She is jilted by her boyfriend as a young girl, then runs away to become maid and caregiver for a widow and her two children. She also worries after her nephew and later in life cares for her adored pet parrot, LouLou. She spends the rest of her life in service, unloved, unappreciated, suffering tragedy and heartbreak. Just a beautifully written story with a very remarkable character. -
"A Simple Heart" is a lovely novella about Felicite, a 19th Century hard-working servant with a kind heart. She had a hard life--losing her parents early, and being jilted by her first love. She worked the rest of her life for a widow, Madame Aubain, who had two children. Her life was one of service, piety, and loss. She never traveled, but learned about the world from her nephew's travels as a cabin boy. She was devoted to the parrot, Loulou. As she became deaf, the talking of the parrot was one of the few things she could hear and their connection became even greater. As old age and confusion set in, she thought of the parrot (stuffed after it died) as an embodiment of the Holy Spirit.
While Felicite did not have an exciting life, she lived through the years with dignity and took joy in simple pleasures like caring for a child, receiving a postcard, or playing with her parrot. The character of Felicite was based on Julie, a servant in the Flaubert household. The moving story acknowledges her goodness, kindness, and loving heart. -
Her face was thin and her voice sharp. At twenty-five she looked like forty. From fifty onwards she seemed of no particular age; and with her silence, straight figure, and precise movements she was like a woman made of wood, and going by clockwork.
Ever wonder why so many critics, so many fellow writers, so many readers hold Flaubert in such high regard? Why they resort to hyperbole to convey their appreciation? Like James Wood, in this introduction:
Novelists should thank Flaubert the way poets thank spring; it all begins again with him. There really is a time before Flaubert and a time after him.
It turns out that the French author needed no more than fifty pages to convince me all these people are right. I first read Flaubert when I was too young to appreciate his precision, his romantic inclinations that are expressed in stark realism, not a word out of place, not one superfluous editorial commentary. I stumbled on to this story much later in my literary journey, when I did some reading about Julian Barnes, who wrote a much longer novel apparently inspired by the powerful imagery of Flaubert.
Everything you need to know about the beauty and the despair of the human condition is indeed condensed into this shortish novella about a nobody, a poor woman from a village in Normandy.
The young farm girl misnamed Felicite experiences loss and heartburn at a very young age, when her first lover abandons her to marry an older, richer woman. Felicite leaves her home and enters into service with a well-to-do widow in Pont l’Eveque, the place where she will spend the rest of her long and uneventful life.
What is so special about this uneducated, unambitious, unadventurous servant?
Maybe the fact that Felicite never gives up on life, on hope, on love, no matter how many times she fails, no matter how many times she is abandoned and left alone. Is she too simple minded, unable to critically think about her condition? Or is she wiser than many philosophers in accepting the things she cannot change and remaining true to her own values, to her faith in a benevolent deity and in the healing power of love?
Holding, as she did, no communication with anyone, Felicite lived as insensibly as if she were walking in her sleep.
The story of Felicite is a story of a gradual but irreversible retrait from life, into loneliness, but without despair. Is this even possible? Felicite ends up all alone and literally deaf to the world outside her dusty room. [ One sound only reached her ears now – the parrot’s voice. ]
Wise Flaubert knows that he should only present us with the naked facts of the woman’s life, without trying to guide the reader into either liking or disliking his character. He just gives us a lifetime of grief and loneliness whose only claim to local notoriety is Felicite’s enthusiasm for her pet bird.
Loulou was almost a son and a lover to her in her isolated state. He climbed up her fingers, nibbled at her lips, and clung to her kerchief, and when she bent her forehead and shook her head gently to and fro, as nurses do, the great wings of her bonnet and the bird’s wings quivered together.
The story ends in clear prose but with an ambiguous message: can a parrot become identified with God? is this comedy or tragedy? or simply life as we know it? -
“For half a century the housewives of Pont-l'Eveque had envied Madame Aubain her servant Félicité. For a hundred francs a year, she cooked and did the housework, washed, ironed, mended, harnessed the horse, fattened the poultry, made the butter and remained faithful to her mistress—although the latter was by no means an agreeable person.”
So begins the story of Félicité, a poor orphaned peasant girl who faithfully serves an aristocratic widow with two young children, Paul and Virginie. Her name means happiness, derived from the Latin felicitas meaning luck or good fortune, however few would describe her life as fortunate, at least not in material terms. What she does possess is a wealth of natural goodness, and that precious quality along with a parrot named Loulou might indeed constitute a fortune.
The narrative follows the natural cycle of Félicité’s life, from beginning to end. History happens in the background. People are born, live out their lives and die. Governments and their leaders come and go. One event, the July 1830 Revolution, does affect her in a singular way. The newly appointed Sub-prefect gives Mme Aubain a parrot from the New World and Mme Aubain, who doesn’t like the bird, gives it to Félicité.
Unlike her mistress, Félicité immediately takes to Loulou. Consider the way Félicité trains the parrot in comparison to the way she learned religious practices by imitating young Virginie.
“In this way, she learned her catechism, her religious education having been neglected in her youth; and thenceforth she imitated all Virginia's religious practices, fasted when she did, and went to confession with her. At the Corpus-Christi Day they both decorated an altar.”
Compare that passage with the following:
“She undertook his education, and soon he was able to repeat: "Pretty boy! Your servant, sir! I salute you, Marie!"
Loulou has good instincts when it comes to people. For example, the parrot takes a distinct disliking to M. Bourais, Mme Aubain’s solicitor. The parrot is quite right in his judgment; Bourais proves to be a scoundrel.
When Loulou unexpectedly vanishes, Félicité searches for him all over town, and doesn’t rest until he reappears. Consequently, she catches a severe cold that results in deafness. From then on, the only voice she hears is the voice of the parrot.
Despite the burden of daily duties, Félicité is known for charity, nursing cholera victims, aiding Polish refuges following the 1830-31 uprising, and caring for an impoverished outcast dying in squalor.
The untimely deaths of Félicité‘s beloved nephew Victor and Virginie form a bond between mistress and servant. Mme Aubain shows Félicité some consideration, but the class barrier that separates them socially remains impenetrable.
When Loulou dies, Félicité is inconsolable; she’s persuaded to have him stuffed as a memento. From then until her death, she keeps the stuffed bird as something akin to a holy relic.
Even in an English translation, Flaubert’s style is something I appreciate both as a writer and a reader. His prose is elegant without being ostentatious; vividly descriptive without being flowery or verbose. His narrative is straightforward; his portrayal of a simple, good-hearted servant is sympathetic and, at times, deeply moving without descending into sentimentality.
Flaubert is careful not to “tell” the reader that Loulou the parrot symbolizes the Holy Spirit. Rather, he provides the reader with information regarding the parrot’s significance to Félicité. Here is an example from the story:
“They associated in her mind, the parrot becoming sanctified through the neighbourhood of the Holy Ghost, and the latter becoming more lifelike in her eyes, and more comprehensible. In all probability the Father had never chosen as messenger a dove, as the latter has no voice, but rather one of Loulou's ancestors.”
“A Simple Heart” was first published in 1877 as one of three religiously themed stories. The story was immediately popular; some interpreted it as evidence of the author’s return to the Church, while others viewed it as a cynical mockery of religion. Neither view now seems correct. In fact, Flaubert wrote the story for his friend and correspondent, George Sand who, unknown to Flaubert, was terminally ill and did not live long enough to read it.
The following quote is from Peter Brooks’ “Flaubert in the Ruins of Paris.”
“The second short story would be “A Simple Heart”—when the Three Tales were published, it would stand first. He mentions the story in a letter to Sand on May 29, 1876. What he says almost sounds like a conversion to her understanding of art: “You will see by my Story of a Simple Heart, where you will recognize your direct influence, that I am not as stubborn as you think. I believe that the moral tendency, or rather the human underside of this little work will please you!” There was no reply; she was already slipping from consciousness. Flaubert wrote anxiously to her daughter-in-law Lina and to Prince Napoléon for news. Sand died on June 8.” -
Now this is how you write a short story! Beautiful, moving and sublime story of the life of a simple maid in 19th century France. It's both funny and heartbreaking, and has that inscrutable quality that makes you keep thinking about it and its various layers of meaning, like a prism that radiates light in different colors depending on which way you turn it.
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Profoundly beautiful and moving and deserving of a much better review than I am capable of writing…we shall see if I can find the right words later.
For now, I’ll leave it at this: having lived in a feudal society, I have met many of my fellow human beings like Felicite, whose greatness of heart has not been crushed by the twin evils of class hierarchy and religious oppression, and who despite a grinding life of service to their social “betters” have lived with a goodness and a joy that makes me ashamed of myself in comparison.
++++++++++++++
Translation by Roger Whitehouse
Read for GoodReads short story discussion group -
This novella length story tells of the life of Madame Aubain’s housemaid, Felicite. Having had a hard, and difficult childhood, Felicite does everything, for very little money, and is extremely faithful to her mistress. Although we hear of her past, and a lost love affair, by the time Felicite joins Madame Aubain’s household, she looks ageless and has a simple life and a simple heart.
Flaubert writes a beautiful portrait of a normal, difficult life. Felicite is not an aristocrat, having love affairs and having time to gossip or go to parties. Her joy is all vicarious; her relationships ruled by what her employer allows (she is, for example, chided for kissing Madame Aubain’s children too much when she first joins the house). Still, she obviously has a great deal of love and affection to give. In the pages of this work, Flaubert shines a spotlight on those servants who move, silent and unheard, through their lives, but still have a lot to say. -
Félicité's Pentecostal Parrot.
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A sober, quiet little story that was surprisingly hard-hitting. Set in France in the 19th century, this is about Felicité, a poor servant girl, who seems to be everything
Madame Bovary wasn't.
Felicité was betrayed and shunned by her lover when she was young, and ends up looking after two children in a household where she serves as a maid. Through Flaubert's precise and detailed writing it is so easy to feel for her, a woman not well treated by destiny, but with so much love to give. There's something touching about someone who remains so utterly good and kind even when life is giving her a hard time.
And I thought I didn't like Flaubert's writing! I remember having a hard time reading
Madame Bovary, but after being overwhelmed with this compassionate approach of writing about loss and suffering, I am tempted to (re-)read more of his work. . Apparently, Félicité was based on a maid called Julie who worked for Flaubert's family and while writing, he is said to have installed a taxidermy parrot on his desk, which I find weirdly amusing.
In 2015 Penguin introduced the Little Black Classics series to celebrate Penguin's 80th birthday. Including little stories from "around the world and across many centuries" as the publisher describes, I have been intrigued to read those for a long time, before finally having started. I hope to
sooner or later read and review all of them! -
#abrilcontosmil
“Devido a um resfriamento, surgiu-lhe uma angina, pouco depois, uma doença nos ouvidos. Três anos mais tarde estava surda, e falava muito alto, mesmo na igreja. (...) Uns zumbidos ilusórios acabavam por completar a sua perturbação. Frequentemente, a patroa dizia-lhe: “Meu Deus! Como está tola!”, e ela replicava: “Sim, senhora”, procurando alguma coisa à sua volta."
Nunca um violino, daqueles totalmente desafinados, serviu tão bem de banda sonora a um conto como no caso deste, a história da desgraçadinha tão desgraçadinha que nem um simples animal de estimação consegue manter vivo; tão doentinha tão doentinha, que não sofre de uma enfermidade mas de quatro ou cinco. “As ripas do telhado apodreciam; durante o Inverno inteiro o seu travesseiro esteve molhado. Depois da Páscoa, cuspiu sangue.”
Acho que uma tragédia perde o efeito quando o leitor começa a rir-se.
“Depois de ter sido inicialmente escrivão de notário, e a seguir empregado no comércio, na Alfândega, nas Contribuições, e quando até tinha começado a fazer diligências para as Águas e Floresta, aos 36 anos, de repente, por uma inspiração dos céus, descobrira o seu caminho: o Registo.” -
Edition- Penguin little black classics
Translation- Roger Whitehouse
Fourth of the five little black classics series I picked. And my first reading of Flaubert. First I must mention how happy I was when I saw these tiny books at the bookstore. Usually I wade through the books at the store for an hour or two,just to get a feel of it,to drink in the smell,to get the feel of new pages on my fingers. The bookstore guys don't mind me spending few hours just walking there or sitting on the floor in a corner and reading few pages since I often help them with rearranging the books. Sometimes I get the older books for free or just for a pittance. My pocket is very shallow as I haven't started earning yet,and the book budget mostly comprises of savings. So usually I have to decide against buying those I want to buy,when I look at the back cover. But these little books... :) I must say they made my day.. I bought five for around 200 rupees.. So Penguin,thanks a lot....
The book I'm about to write about,'A simple heart',is about a gentle woman who was a domestic helper and her love for a parrot. It is a really simple story about a simple woman. It doesn't describe anything in too much or ornate words. It doesn't have many colorful characters. Those characters that could've added color,like Paul and Virginie,even they are presented in a lighter tone. Emotions are also tempered,to match the overall equilibrium of the story. Félicité,the simple soul about which this story is,meets every loss in her life with a silent cry. She keeps her feelings to herself and never let that interfere with her duties as a servant. Even when she is extremely sad or upset,she takes care not to miss the tiny things that are part of her duty. Like when she received the news of Victor's death,
"Félicité caught sight of them through the window and suddenly remembered that she had washing to do herself."
She is a gentle,god-fearing,simple soul. Actually I must say that this character reminded me of something else.. She fits the idea of a stereotypic Indian wife. Actually she is exactly what a stereotypic Indian male and in-laws would desire. A perfect marriage material. Well.. If one extend the subordinate nature to lovemaking too.
Eligibility criteria-
1) Shouldn't question
2) should not have an opinion about anything
3) shouldn't be disrespectful towards anyone
4) should know all sorts of manners to be followed ranging from table to marriage function
5) should cook good
6) should be able to take care of the house on her own
7) should be able to manage money economically according to the needs of everyone
8) should love and take care of children
9) shouldn't bother much about one's own dressing after marriage
10) should take care of the in-laws well
11) should give least importance to her own needs and should take care of that only after everything else is done
Well.. There are men who think differently,but they are not much common even now.. And many are so hypocritical that they behave like they are different in front of others and remain the same inside. I guess this story could have been the story of any common Indian woman,burning herself along with the wood to fuel the family. And not uttering a word of complaint.
The story was a good one. It presents beautifully what would have otherwise been a dull existence that nobody would look at. This story will affect us in a way that won't let us look at any common man with the indifference we used to. It says that everyone has a story. And that that story can be interesting if we give enough attention. -
Is Felicité a name that implies happiness?
We will never know. Felicité could feel pain and sorrow, love and affection, but happiness seemed to be something destined for others and she did not worry much about it.
But she was content, in her own way – and in the way Flaubert portrays her life it resembles a lot of other young women of her time. Climbing the social ladder is not something you just do, it requires skills, a bit of cunning and good looks – then you maybe will find a husband who can lift you a few steps upwards.
So, Felicité is “living by proxy”, taking delight in the small things in life, realizing she would never step out of her destined role.
And she is doing it well, she is giving care and love and works hard, her heart may be simple, but it is big.
When she eventually reaches a ripe age, she has memories, some of her own produce and quite a few inherited and she is content, knowing she did her best.
One by one her heartbeats became slower, growing successively weaker and fainter like a fountain running dry, an echo fading away.
With her dying breath she imagined she saw a huge parrot hovering above her head as the heavens parted to receive her. -
C’è una scena in questo splendido racconto che avevo dimenticato. Alla morte della figlia, la signora Aubain e Félicité rassettano la camera della ragazza e ad un certo punto, da un armadio che era stato chiuso per lungo tempo, s’invola un nugolo di farfalle. Quasi un nuovo, estremo addio di Virginie al mondo.
Non lo ricordavo, ripeto, ma mi è finalmente sovvenuto il motivo dello sconcerto provato di fronte ad una sequenza di Nostalghia di Tarkovskij.
Nel film la protagonista osserva da dietro le quinte una donna in preghiera davanti alla statua della Madonna del Parto. All’improvviso, toccandola, dal cuore della Madonna esce uno stormo di uccellini (beneauguranti?) che cinguettano, mentre sullo sfondo si muovono decine di candele accese. E’ una scena che dovrebbe evocare la vita, ma a me ha sempre fatto pensare al lutto, alla morte.
Ecco, adesso so a cosa l’avevo associata.
