Tartarin of Tarascon by Alphonse Daudet

Underwhelming adventures of a comical hero

Alphonse Daudet (1840–1897) is a beloved writer in his native France but not so familiar to American readers. He is considered a naturalist writer, but his works tend to be lighter and more humorous than contemporaries like Emile Zola or Joris-Karl Huysmans. Daudet was born in the South of France, and his novels and stories are often set in that region of the country. One such novel is Tartarin of Tarascon, published in 1872. This book must have achieved some degree of success in France because it spawned two sequels: Tartarin on the Alps and Port Tarascon.

Tarascon is a department in the French region of Provence, near the Mediterranean Coast. Daudet describes it as a quaint, bucolic locale where hunting is the primary pastime. One resident of this district is Tartarin, a short, stocky, he-man who reads adventure novels and dreams of exploring exotic lands. He has never left Tarascon, however, and has never done anything to distinguish himself as particularly intrepid. Nevertheless, as a big fish in a small pond, the other hunters of Tarascon regard him as somewhat of a local hero. One day the circus comes to town, bringing with it a caged lion. When Tartarin steps up to the cage to regard the beast, he is heard to mutter something along the lines of, “I’d like to take a crack at one of those.” The folks of Tarascon inflate this comment into a rumor that Tartarin is planning a trip to Africa to hunt lions. After a while, the rumor becomes so insistent that Tartarin feels the only way he can save face is to make the rumor a reality.

The problem is, Tartarin is somewhat of a coward. Daudet describes him as having two personalities—part Don Quixote, the romantic hero, and part Sancho Panza, the cautious everyman. He is ill-equipped with the courage required to make an international voyage, much less hunt the king of the jungle. Feeling obligated, however, to do so, he embarks on a boat to Algeria.

This all sounds like the set-up for a funny slapstick comedy about a clumsy sad sack who stumbles his way by dumb luck through dangerous situations. The humor here, however, has not aged well, and the gags don’t inspire much laughter anymore. The jokes are so simplistic that I wondered if this were perhaps written for children. Daudet spends too much time convincing us of Tartarin’s insignificance and ineptitude. By the time he gets to anything resembling an adventure, more than half the book has already gone by. Things don’t really pick up a whole lot once Tartarin arrives in Africa, either. The hardest part about shooting a lion is finding one. Eventually, the novel is wrapped up with an ending that just feels silly and pointless.

If the plot is so sluggish, what’s the main attraction here? The character of Tartarin does inspire some sympathy. He’s an underdog the reader can root for. French readers likely would have recognized him as a certain stereotypical type of Southerner. English-language readers probably won’t get that connotation but will still recognize Tartarin as a familiar type of lovable loser who bites off more than he can chew. Such satire is not enough to bring any laughter or excitement to the proceedings, however. Like drifting down a lazy river, this book just kind of coasts along, and the ride ultimately feels inconsequential.

The Immortal by Alphonse Daudet

A satirical look at the Académie Française
Originally published in 1888, The Immortal is a novel by French naturalist writer Alphonse Daudet. It has also been published in English under the title One of the Forty, referring to the forty members of the Académie Française, who are informally referred to as “Immortals.” Established in 1635, the Académie is an honorary organization of men of letters, similar to a sort of intellectual knighthood, in which membership comes with a distinctive green-jacketed uniform and ceremonial sword. The Académie is considered the foremost authority on the French language and is responsible for publishing France’s official dictionary. At full capacity, the organization consists of forty members, who once elected serve for life. When one dies, the remaining members elect another illustrious author, poet, playwright, or historian to take his place.

Because of its status as a time-honored, government-sanctioned institution, the Académie not surprisingly has been subject to criticism from iconoclasts, among them Alphonse Daudet, who perceive the organization as stodgy, conformist, and conservative. In The Immortal, Daudet pokes fun at the selection process for membership, pointing out that it is based more on politics than on literary merit. The title of the book refers to Léonard Astier-Réhu, a historian, archivist, and collector of historical manuscripts. Now past the prime of his career and fallen on hard times, he clings to his Académie position—his last vestige of professional dignity—like a life preserver. In hopes of being elevated to a lofty officerial position within the organization, Astier-Réhu awaits the passing of a senior member. Meanwhile, his up-and-coming protége, the Vicomte de Freydet, likewise anticipates the next vacancy in hopes of being initiated into the ranks of the immortals.

Even if the angle Daudet takes on the Académie is cynical and sarcastic, over the course of the book the reader really does learn quite a bit about the institution. The book is aimed at a French audience, however, so some prior knowledge of the organization is assumed, which can make for tough going for the non-French reader. The idea of an official order that celebrates achievement in the humanities (or the arts, or the sciences) sounds like an admirable idea to this reader from America, a nation that celebrates its movie stars and sports heroes far more than its academics. Nevertheless, one can easily see how the election process might be rife with opportunities for bias, manipulation, and corruption, and Daudet is relentless in his lampooning of this process. While the novel is sometimes funny, however, it often merely amounts to a tedious bummer.

The truth is, there isn’t really a single character to like in this book. Beyond Astier-Réhu and his cronies in the Académie, we have his wife and son, who are busy scheming to arrange marriages to their advantage, thus adding immorality to insult. Honoré de Balzac was an expert at satire. He could create stories with comically self-serving protagonists, but somehow he also managed to endow them with identifiable qualities that rendered them inexplicably lovable. Not so with Daudet, whose pointed satire doesn’t bring a whole lot of joy, just bitterness and ugliness. Whether or not you choose to read this novel should depend on your level of interest in French literature. If you are curious about the Académie, then this book may be worth your time. If you just like 19th century fiction and are looking for a dose of French naturalism, stick with Emile Zola.
If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
https://www.amazon.com/review/R2JPTFYONZL8F7/ref=cm_cr_srp_d_rdp_perm

International Short Stories: French, edited by Francis J. Reynolds

Evidence of France’s literary superiority

Guy de Maupassant

International Short Stories: French, compiled by Francis J. Reynolds and published in 1910 by P. F. Collier & Sons, is the third in a trilogy of International Short Stories anthologies, following volumes on American and English stories. This French collection includes 23 stories and novellas by French authors both classic and contemporary (for 1910). Though the American and English volumes were fine, it is remarkable how superior this French volume is to both of those preceding books. While each volume has its household-name superstars, the difference in quality is most notable in the obscure, run-of-the-mill writers long since forgotten. While the minor authors of England and America served primarily as disappointing distractions from the better works in their respective volumes, here the French team proves to have a deep bench of players capable of consistently high performance. This volume captures a moment in time when, whether in the case of romanticism or naturalism, French literature really led the world in narrative innovation and literary merit, until arguably the Americans took the lead with early 20th-century realism.

In terms of big Panthéon-worthy names, the starting five, if you will, includes exceptional selections by Honoré de Balzac (“The Elixir of Life”), Emile Zola (“Jean Gourdon’s Four Days”), and Alexandre Dumas (“Solange”). Victor Hugo’s “A Fight with a Cannon” is actually an excerpt from his novel Ninety-Three, but the lifted scene stands alone as compelling short story. Voltaire’s novella Zadig is also reproduced in its entirety. Though a worthy work, having been published in 1747 it does suffer a bit from its extreme antiquity.

For the most part the second-string players, those who deserve more fame than they presently enjoy, are also represented by admirable offerings. Guy de Maupassant, a true master of the short story, delivers likely the book’s best selection, “Abandoned,” in which a married woman and her former lover visit the love child they spawned 40 years before. “A Piece of Bread” by François Coppée, another greatly underrated storyteller, is a touching tale of a friendship between two soldiers in the Franco-Prussian War. Alphonse Daudet’s excellent entry, “The Last Lesson,” is a moving tale of the last French-language class taught at an Alsatian school before the Prussian takeover. Alfred de Musset’s “Croisilles” is an enjoyable lighthearted romance written in a style reminiscent of Balzac. Another reasonably well-known storyteller, Prosper Mérimée, is less successful with “Mateo Falcone,” perhaps his best-known story but certainly not his best.

The remaining baker’s dozen of authors bear names unlikely to ring a bell with most 21st-century readers. With the exception of one or two disappointments, however, such as A. Chenevière’s African colonial tale “Tonton” and Clémence Robert’s pulpy military adventure “Baron de Trenck,” the quality of these lesser-knowns’ selections is quite good and in some cases truly pleasant surprises. Henry Murger’s “The Passage of the Red Sea,” a delightfully wry satire of the art establishment, is right up there among the volume’s best selections. Offerings by Paul de Kock, Erckmann-Chatrian, René Bazin, Marcel Prevost, and Alain René Le Sage are also impressive works.

For lovers of classic literature, the International Short Stories series is pretty good overall, but the French volume is clearly the one book of the three that definitely deserves a download. Not every story included is a masterpiece, but the goods far outweigh the bads.

Stories in this collection

A Piece of Bread by François Coppée

The Elixir of Life by Honoré de Balzac 

The Age for Love by Paul Bourget 

Mateo Falcone by Prosper Mérimée 

The Mirror by Catulle Mendes 

My Nephew Joseph by Ludovic Halevy 

A Forest Betrothal by Erckmann-Chatrian 

Zadig the Babylonian by François Marie Arouet de Voltaire 

Abandoned by Guy de Maupassant 

The Guilty Secret by Paul de Kock 

Jean Monette by Eugene François Vidocq

Solange by Alexandre Dumas 

The Birds in the Letter-Box by René Bazin 

Jean Gourdon’s Four Days by Émile Zola 

Baron de Trenck by Clémence Robert 

The Passage of the Red Sea by Henry Murger 

The Woman and the Cat by Marcel Prevost 

Gil Blas and Dr. Sangrado by Alain René Le Sage 

A Fight with a Cannon by Victor Hugo 

Tonton by A. Chenevière 

The Last Lesson by Alphonse Daudet

Croisilles by Alfred de Musset

The Vase of Clay by Jean Aicard


If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
https://www.amazon.com/review/R3CVCCP31HOYU6/ref=cm_cr_srp_d_rdp_perm

Stories by Foreign Authors: French I by Alphonse Daudet, et al.

Vive la France!

Guy de Maupassant

In the 19th century, the greatest literature in the world was being produced in France. English-language readers may have been more familiar with British writers, but in terms of stylistic innovation and storytelling skill the French were really in a league of their own. When Charles Scribner’s Sons published their ten-volume series Stories by Foreign Authors in 1898, they devoted three whole volumes to French fiction. This book, subtitled French I, is the first volume of the series.

Of the six stories included here, only one of them misses its mark. “Uncle and Nephew” by Edmond About is about a man in danger of losing his sanity because he can’t summon the courage to propose to the woman he loves. It starts out as a mildly fun romantic comedy and eventually devolves into a confusing and silly farce. Thankfully, the other five stories are much better.

Alphonse Daudet’s “The Siege of Berlin,” takes place during the Franco-Prussian War. If you know anything about that war, you know that there was no siege of Berlin, but all is explained in this touching story of patriotism. “The Juggler of Notre Dame” by Nobel Prize-winner Anatole France, is a funny, satirical tale of a street performer who finds religion. In Paul Bourget’s “Another Gambler,” Claude mourns the loss of his black-sheep cousin Lucien, and fears he may have inadvertently been the cause of the dead man’s downward spiral. It’s a very moving and compassionate study of childhood regrets. These three selections are all strong, but it’s the two excellent stories that finish off the book that really make this collection worth reading.

“The Necklace” by Guy de Maupassant is a masterpiece. Madame Loisel is a beautiful and charming woman, but born poor and married poor. She bemoans her station in life, longing for the excitement and luxury of the wealthy class. When her husband, a clerk, is invited to a ball, she seizes the opportunity for one night of lush life, but how much will this one enchanted evening cost the couple in the end? It’s a seemingly simple story that delivers a moral message, but it’s profoundly deep and insightful in its examination of wealth, class, and ambition.

Another great story, Victorien Sardou’s “The Black Pearl,” is set in Amsterdam, for no apparent reason. To prove his enduring love to the woman he wishes to marry, Balthazar must find a preserved flower that he saved from their meeting years before. When he returns home to retrieve the beloved talisman, however, he finds that his desk has been ransacked and his valuables stolen. With the help of his scientifically minded friend Cornelius, and a zealous detective named M. Tricamp, Balthazar searches for the solution to this puzzling case. It’s a great mystery, worthy of Sherlock Holmes. The startling conclusion is truly a surprise, though to some extent it does defy belief. Some confusing passages and overly melodramatic moments keep this story from being perfect, but it’s still a great read. Too bad Sardou didn’t write a whole series of detective novels with these characters; I would certainly read them.

This is one of the best volumes in the Stories by Foreign Authors series and a great collection for fans of classic French literature. These authors may not be as famous as Hugo, Zola, Balzac, or Dumas, but after reading the pieces included here you’ll certainly want to seek out more of their work.

For some reason, neither Amazon nor Project Gutenberg offers ebook files of the French volumes in the Stories by Foreign Authors series, but they can be found for free at Wikisource.

Stories in this collection

The Siege of Berlin by Alphonse Daudet 

The Juggler of Notre Dame by Anatole France 

Uncle and Nephew by Edmond About 

Another Gambler by Paul Bourget 

The Necklace by Guy de Maupassant 

The Black Pearl by Victorien Sardou

If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/RLA2WJ15DG5YH/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm