The Parasite by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

She’s messing with my head
When he wasn’t writing Sherlock Holmes detective tales, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was cranking out all manner of short stories and novels in the genres of science fiction, mystery, horror, historical adventure, and what might best be described as medical fiction. Conan Doyle, being a physician himself, obviously had an interest in science, but he was also fascinated by the occult. Somewhere betwixt those two areas of interest lies the realm of parapsychology and his short novel of 1894, The Parasite. Though the title may lead one to believe the book is a medical thriller, the host for this particular parasite is actually mental rather than physical. The Parasite is a suspenseful tale of mind control by mesmerism.

Austin Gilroy is a young professor of physiology who places immense value in the certainty of scientific fact. His colleague Professor Wilson, however, who studies the relatively newborn field of psychology, is more open to the possibility of unexplained phenomena. Wilson invites Gilroy to his home to witness a demonstration of mesmerism by the mysterious Miss Penclosa. Gilroy skeptically volunteers to be entranced by Penclosa, and to his surprise she is actually capable of doing so. He decides to research the physical science behind mesmerism, and asks Miss Penclosa to perform a series of experiments with him. After several sessions in which she hypnotizes him, Gilroy begins to realize that she has a powerful psychic hold over him. He is horrified to discover that she is in love with him and intends to make him her slave. Since this woman is capable of controlling him just as a puppeteer directs the actions of a marionette, how will he ever escape her evil clutches?

The Parasite is a fun gender-bending variation on the countless tales of helpless women forced into the harem of a domineering svengali. In this case it’s the man who must fear for the loss of his precious virtue. Perhaps Conan Doyle’s novel is an expression of a late 19th-century fear of powerful, independent women. If Gilroy’s antagonist were a male, he would have more options available for retaliation, such as violence or public denunciation. Since his nemesis is a woman, however, his is bound by Victorian era societal codes on how to deal with the fairer sex, no matter how evil they may be. Conan Doyle’s hands are unfortunately tied by these same codes, which may be what prevents him from capping the story off with a satisfying finale.

Though this is a positive review overall, I must offer a warning to the reader: the ending of this story absolutely sucks. How do you rate a work that is 99% entertaining when it’s ruined by its final sentence? Looking on the bright side, the disappointment inspired by the weak conclusion does not negate the suspenseful ride it took to get there. The Parasite really is a fun psychological thriller that keeps you guessing as to what’s going to happen next. This premise and plot could easily be made into an exciting Hollywood blockbuster, if only someone would come up with an ending that finishes it with a bang rather than a fizzle.
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/R217ATTBS948R7/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

The Shakespeare of pirate speak
Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic adventure novel Treasure Island was originally published in serial format from 1881 to 1882 in the British periodical Young Folks. Despite its being aimed at young readers, these days Stevenson’s original text will more likely appeal to adult fans of classic historical fiction whose children are probably off reading about vampires or wizards. Other than the fact that it has a teenage protagonist, there’s really no obvious indication that the book was written for a juvenile audience. Stevenson doesn’t dumb down the language or ideas, nor does he shy away from violence, and the book is free from overt moralizing. Many adult readers vaguely recall Treasure Island from one of the myriad illustrated adaptations they encountered back in elementary school. If so, you may think you know Long John Silver, but if you haven’t read the actual text by Stevenson, do yourself a favor and give this exceptional book a try.

Jim Hawkins, a boy in his early teens, lives at an English coastal inn owned and operated by his parents. One day an old sailor named Billy Bones takes up residence at the inn. At first Jim is frightened by this rough-mannered, rum-drinking stranger, but through their daily interaction the two develop a tentative friendship of sorts, with Bones confiding his old pirate tales to the boy. Just as Jim begins to become accustomed to one salty old sea-dog, however, even scarier characters start showing up at the inn inquiring after Bones. Jim realizes that Bones has been hiding out from his former shipmates, and that the old sailor possesses something of great value that his dangerous colleagues will stop at nothing to get their hands on.

It should come as no surprise that there’s a treasure involved. Treasure Island is one of the few great genre-defining novels in the history of literature. So many of the trappings of pirate lore—peg legs, parrots, treasure maps, and knives clenched between teeth—were introduced to popular culture through Stevenson’s seminal work. One of the familiar chestnuts of pirate films—the invasive boarding of a ship amid sword clash and cannon fire—is notably absent from this book, since most of the action takes place on the titular island. Having been written in the 19th century, the book is not as action-packed as many of its later imitators. At times it can be quite talky, but that’s really a blessing rather than a curse, for Stevenson is the undisputed Shakespeare of pirate speak. The beautifully rendered dialects, slang, and unorthodox pronunciation of the various pirates is a joy to read, and as good as any dialogue that’s been written in the genre since.

To the 21st century reader the plot of the book is at times predictable, but it definitely contains enough twists and turns to maintain suspense. It feels like it takes an awfully long time to get to the island, but perhaps Stevenson just does such a good job of inspiring eagerness that one can’t wait to open the treasure chest. Though this is a tale of epic adventure, there’s not a lot of romanticized heroics, and as for the pirates, there’s clearly little honor among these thieves. The characters’ behavior is generally motivated by self-interest, which brings a touch of realism to the proceedings that modern readers will appreciate.

Treasure Island has held up extremely well over the past 130 years, and anyone who enjoys adventure fiction should definitely put it on the top of their reading list. While the term “classic” is bandied about perhaps too often, and applied to books of every stripe, Treasure Island is a book that truly deserves the designation, in every sense of the word.
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/R3CLGYJUIK8FP6/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

The Rougon-Macquart Cycle by Émile Zola

Outline of a masterpiece

Émile Zola, painting by Edouard Manet

On this, the date of his birth, April 2nd, Old Books by Dead Guys takes this opportunity to honor the great French author Émile Zola by celebrating his 20-novel magnum opus, the Rougon-Macquart cycle. Published from 1871 to 1893, this series of books comprises one of the most ambitious achievements in the history of literature. J. G. Patterson, in his reference work A Zola Dictionary, states that Les Rougon-Macquart “occupied nearly twenty-five years in writing, consists of twenty volumes containing over twelve hundred characters, and a number of words estimated . . . at two million five hundred thousand.”

The only endeavor in French letters that’s comparable to Les Rougon-Macquart is Balzac’s Comédie Humaine, a collection of over 90 novels, short stories, and essays written from 1799-1850 in which the author attempted to explore every aspect of French society. While Balzac’s stories vary widely in setting from medieval times to the present, Zola’s focus in the Rougon-Macquart books is much narrower and sharper. His 20 novels all take place during the Second French Empire (1851-1870)—the reign of Emperor Napoleon III (the nephew of the more famous Napoleon I). Zola concentrates on the members of one family who lived during this crucial period of modernization in France. Through the lives of these sons, daughters, siblings, and cousins, Zola examines various social, political, and economic phenomena of the era.

The Rougon-Macquart novels are united not only temporally but also stylistically. With a few incongruous exceptions, these 20 novels all exemplify the literary movement known as Naturalism. Though a few writers preceded Zola in the development of Naturalism, his work is acknowledged as the apex of the movement, and he its most ardent proponent. Naturalism sprang out of the scientific advances of the 19th century, most notably Darwin’s theory of evolution. Naturalist writers seek to show how external forces such as heredity, environment, and social conditions mold the characters of individuals. They often employ a very descriptive style of prose based on empirical observation of the real world, even when such observation requires them to unflinchingly depict the uglier, baser sides of life, such as poverty, immorality, and violence.

It was not merely for stylistic or dramatic reasons that Zola chose to connect these 20 books by familial links. The focus on related family members gives Zola the opportunity to illustrate evolutionary concepts. The members of this fictional family are all descended from one woman, Adélaide Fouque, and her two lovers, Monsieurs Rougon and Macquart. From book to book, Zola shows how hereditary characteristics, both physical and behavioral, are passed down from generation to generation. He saw these novels as laboratories, and the cast of characters as test subjects in an experiment. Regardless of the accuracy of that viewpoint, the introduction of scientific themes into fiction resulted in a significant departure from the existing state of literature. Naturalism, as exemplified by Zola’s Rougon-Macquart cycle, combines the epic drama of old-school Romanticism with the gritty honesty and social consciousness of modern Realism. 

Click on the titles below to read my complete reviews of the individual books. The ratings may seem harsh, but when I give a Zola book one or two stars, that’s relative to the high standards one expects from Zola, not compared to literature in general.

Novels in the series

La Fortune des Rougon (The Fortune of the Rougons) (1871)
In the fictional town of Plassans (a surrogate for the author’s hometown of Aix-en-Provence) Zola plants the roots of the Rougon-Macquart family tree and outlines its first three generations. When the coup d’etat takes place in 1851 that puts Napoleon III on the throne of France, the fates of the various family members rise and fall according to which political side they’ve chosen. (4 stars)

La Curée (The Kill) (1872)
Aristide Saccard (born Aristide Rougon) strikes it rich in Paris through a series of shady real estate deals. He pours his wealth into the building of a magnificent mansion where he throws lavish parties for the wealthiest Parisians. With the extravagant flow of cash comes the loosening of morals. A vivid portrait of the corruption of the Second Empire, but probably the worst book in the series. (1 star)

Le Ventre de Paris (The Belly of Paris; The Fat and the Thin) (1873)
Lisa Quenu, the daughter of Antoine Macquart, operates a butcher shop in the neighborhood of Les Halles, the huge central marketplace of Paris. She finds her comfortable middle-class lifestyle threatened when her husband’s brother Florent, an escaped political prisoner, arrives and takes up residence in her home. (4 stars)

La Conquête de Plassans (The Conquest of Plassans) (1874)
A new priest arrives in Plassans, Abbé Faujas, who rents a room in the home of the Mourets (François Mouret of the Macquart family, and his wife Marthe Rougon). The clergyman soon begins to wield his social and political influence in the affairs of the town, and insinuates himself more and more into the lives of his hosts. (4 stars)

La Faute de l’Abbé Mouret (The Sin of Father Mouret) (1875)
Serge Mouret (son of François) becomes parish priest in the small rural village of Les Artaud. His severe religious fervor is shaken when he falls in love with a local girl. This novel is one of the more Romantic in the series—a departure from Zola’s trademark Naturalism—and thus one of the least successful. (1 star)

Son Excellence Eugène Rougon (His Excellency Eugene Rougon) (1876)
Eugène Rougon is a powerful Minister in the government of Napoleon III. Through his own vanity and ambition, and some political maneuvering on the part of his rivals, he falls into disfavor with the Emperor and with the public, but he won’t go down without a fight. (3 stars)

L’Assomoir (The Dram Shop) (1877)
A gritty portrait of working class life and an unflinching study of the destructive effects of alcohol, L’Assomoir follows Gervaise Macquart’s decline from a respectable life as a hard-working laundress to a living hell of chemical dependence, abject poverty, and moral depravity. A masterpiece of Naturalism. (5 stars)

Une Page d’Amour (A Love Episode) (1878)
Hélène Mouret, a beautiful young widow, unexpectedly falls in love again but finds herself in a situation in which her virtuous reputation may be compromised. This melodramatic love story doesn’t fit in with this series of novels at all, but it’s not without its charms. (2 stars)

Nana (1880)
Nana Coupeau, the daughter of Gervaise Macquart of L'Assomoir, escapes her humble beginnings by becoming an actress. Despite having little talent, through her sheer natural beauty she proceeds to enslave the wealthiest men of France and suck them dry of their funds and their dignity. A baudy commentary on the decadence and decay of Parisian morals. (4 stars) 

Pot-Bouille (Pot Luck; Piping Hot; Restless House) (1882)
Focusing on a middle-class apartment building, its inhabitants, and its servants, Zola illustrates how individuals of various social strata scheme, strategize, and compromise their personal ethics in order to claw their way up the societal pyramid. A lesser-known work, but one of Zola’s best. (5 stars)

Au Bonheur des Dames (The Ladies’ Paradise) (1883)
In this sequel of sorts to Pot-Bouille, Zola turns his attention to the world of commerce. Octave Mouret, who stars in both books, inherits a thriving business—one of Paris’s first department stores. He enlarges the shop into the grandest shopping mecca in Paris, swallowing up neighboring real estate and bankrupting his small-time competitors. (4 stars)

La Joie de Vivre (Zest for Life; Love of Life; How Jolly Life Is!) (1884)
It becomes clear early on that the title of this book is meant to be sarcastic. Pauline Quenu is sent to a bleak village on the Normandy coast to live with relatives of her departed father. There she leads a persecuted existence with little joy to speak of. One of Zola’s most depressing books. (2 stars)

Germinal (1885)
Zola’s greatest work, and my favorite novel of all time. Étienne Lantier, another child of Gervaise Macquart, arrives in the northern town of Montsou and finds employment at the local coal mine. When he experiences first-hand the appalling working and living conditions, he becomes a labor organizer and urges the miners to strike for better wages. (5 stars)

L’Oeuvre (The Masterpiece) (1886)
Claude Lantier (brother of Étienne), ekes out a bohemian existence while struggling to make a living as a painter. The academic establishment that controls the annual salon exhibitions repeatedly scorn his modern, innovative style. A tale of artistic obsession and a vivid look at the Parisian art world at the dawn of impressionism.  (4 stars)

La Terre (The Earth) (1887)
When the aged patriarch of a farming family decides to divide up his holdings among his three children, they respond not with gratitude but with mutual animosity and treachery. Jean Macquart, an honest, hard-working farmhand, is caught up in the siblings’ private war. This grittily realistic portrayal of agricultural life is one of Zola’s greatest works. (5 stars)

La Rêve (The Dream) (1888)
Angélique Rougon lives in the shadow of a centuries-old cathedral, where she embroiders tapestries and vestments for the church with her adopted parents. The serenity of her sheltered existence is suddenly interrupted when a young man enters her life. Almost a fairy tale, the novel bears little resemblance at all to Zola’s more Naturalistic works. (2 stars)

La Bête Humaine (The Human Beast) (1890)
Jacques Lantier, an engine driver on the railway line from Paris to Le Havre, feels an uncontrollable urge to kill every woman he’s attracted to. He’s not the only one with murderous intent, however, in this violent thriller that combines film noir suspense with social commentary on the negative societal effects of industrialization. (4 stars)

L’Argent (Money) (1891)
Aristide Saccard, previously featured in La Curée, has since lost his great fortune to some bad investments. He soon comes up with a new plan for a big score, however, and doesn’t shy away from unethical deals or fraudulent tactics to see his get-rich-quick scheme become reality. A study of greed and the financial opportunism rampant in Paris at the time. (4 stars)

La Débâcle (The Debacle; The Downfall) (1892)
This excellent war novel focuses on two soldiers from contrasting backgrounds—Jean Macquart (from La Terre), and Maurice Levasseur—who fight in the service of France at the devastating Battle of Sedan. Zola brilliantly details the tragic effects of the Franco-Prussian War on all walks of French life. (5 stars)

Le Docteur Pascal (Doctor Pascal) (1893)
Pascal Rougon is a retired physician with a scientific interest in evolution. To aid him in his research on the subject, he studies his own family history (as depicted in the previous 19 novels). This book is more than just an epilogue, however, but a novel in its own right. In his old age Pascal falls in love with a younger woman, which forces him to examine his priorities and question whether his has been a life well lived. (4 stars)

After completing the Rougon-Macquart cycle, Zola went on to write two more series: the Three Cities trilogy—consisting of Lourdes, Rome, and Paris—and the Four Gospels—Fruitfulness, Labor, Truth, and Justice (the last unfinished at the time of his death). His Naturalism had a powerful influence on world literature, including the work of American writers like Frank Norris, Jack London, Theodore Dreiser, and John Steinbeck.

The Secret Journeys of Jack London, Book Two: The Sea Wolves by Christopher Golden and Tim Lebbon

A chilling, thrilling tribute to London’s Sea-Wolf
As a middle-aged reader, I don’t make a habit out of reading so-called “young adult” fiction, but how can I resist when it pays homage to one of my favorite authors? The Secret Journeys of Jack London series is a delightfully clever tribute to the great American storyteller. Ostensibly these are the writer’s most unbelievable adventures—stories so bizarre that London himself was too scared to tell them. Authors Christopher Golden and Tim Lebbon combine scenes, settings, and characters from London’s life and literature with fantasy and horror elements aimed at today’s young readers. The result could have been a nightmare, but surprisingly, this series really works. Book Two: The Sea Wolves, isn’t quite as smart and captivating as its predecessor, Book One: The Wild, but it’s still a great read for fans of London or anyone who appreciates a good adventure story.

Book Two picks up right where Book One left off. On his way back from the Yukon, London’s steamer is boarded by a brutal band of pirates hunting for gold. The invaders kill many of the ship’s passengers and take several others captive, among them young Jack London. While the rest of the prisoners are locked up in the pirate ship’s hold, London is given special treatment. The sadistic captain takes a special interest in young Jack, appoints him ship’s cook, and occasionally engages him in intellectual conversations about literature and ethics. The parallels between this book and London’s novel The Sea-Wolf are intentional and obvious. The tale that Golden and Lebbon present here purports to be the experience that inspired London to write that famous work. While Book One did a great job of alluding to London’s works while creating something entirely new, Book Two at times clings a little too closely to its source material. These books should encourage young readers to seek out works like The Sea-Wolf, not render them redundant.

Because this second installment makes frequent references to the series debut, you really must read Book One first in order to understand what’s going on here. London uses certain “powers” that he acquired in the first volume. If the authors had just let the past go and allowed this second volume to stand on its own two feet, the result would have been a stronger book. Instead the novel is somewhat overpowered by its series. The ending of Book Two feels partially unresolved, as it segues into book three, which was recently published under the title White Fangs.

The plot of the book is as exciting and action-packed as any Hollywood horror thriller, but also just as predictable. The novel’s only big surprise is given away by the title and the cover illustration. What really saves the book and elevates it above mediocre genre trash is its well-crafted prose. Golden and Lebbon don’t dumb down the vocabulary or syntax for their young audience. There are plenty of “grown-up” novelists who can’t put a paragraph together nearly as well as these guys can. They are also quite adept at creating situations fraught with edge-of-your-seat suspense, even when the outcome of such situations may be a foregone conclusion.

Despite the fact that this second installment is a step down from the first, it’s still quite entertaining and certainly worth its cover price. I look forward to seeing where the authors take London next. If only there were a big enough young audience interested in London and his works, the Secret Journeys would make a great TV series.
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/R1ESVKS6V65GFA/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

The Chronic Argonauts by H. G. Wells

One giant leap for time travel fiction
With his first novel, The Time Machine, published in 1895, H. G. Wells not only staked his claim as one of the preeminent writers in the nascent genre of science fiction, he also firmly established the concept of time travel in the world of popular culture. His innovative novel would go on to spawn thousands of imitators, and still does to this day. Yet Wells had already broken this fertile ground earlier with his lesser-known short story of 1888, “The Chronic Argonauts.” This story was the first work of fiction in which an explorer traverses time through the use of a man-made device—a time machine—rather than through magic, divine intervention, or a natural phenomenon such as sleep. Though it deserves praise for its ground-breaking invention, “The Chronic Argonauts” is not in the same literary league as The Time Machine, and its value primarily lies in its influential role as a precursor to that later, greater work.

The Welsh town of Llyddwdd is roused from its bucolic slumber by the arrival of a strange, reclusive scientist named Dr. Nebogipfel. When the doctor takes up residence in the town’s requisite creepy old house, much speculation arises on the part of the local populace as to what nefarious projects he is engaged in there. Because of its fish-out-of-water-in-a-small-town plot and the tangential connection to unexplained phenomena, this story more closely resembles a mystery by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle than it does a science fiction tale. It is not so much about the direction of the scientist’s research as it is about the townspeople’s reaction to him. When the doctor explains his theory of time travel to an acquaintance, he gives a brief outline of the more thorough treatise on the subject that would appear in the first chapter of The Time Machine. Unlike Wells’ great novel, though, in “The Chronic Argonauts” we never actually get to see the past or the future. Time travel is only discussed, alluded to, and hinted at. This turns out to be the story’s biggest surprise: it ends without delivering the goods.

Today’s readers may find difficulty with Wells’ thesaurus-wringing prose. He packs every hundred-dollar word he can think of into each successive sentence, including some like “zymotic” and “eyot” that even the Oxford dictionary has forgotten. This gives a tongue-in-cheek feeling to the narration that may or may not be intentional. Wells certainly does portray the consternation of the Welsh villagers in a humorous light, but when it comes to Nebogipfel’s research, he’s all business. This story won’t be remembered for its plot or its prose, but rather for its sheer visionary inventiveness. What have since become clichés of the time travel subgenre were brilliantly original when they sprung from Wells’ pen. The countless imitators who have sprung from the template of Nebogipfel are a testament to the endurance of Wells’ imaginative vision.

Fans of this story may also enjoy the tribute piece “Nebogipfel at the End of Time,” by Richard A. Lupoff, a short story included in the inexpensive Time Travel Megapack from Wildside Press.
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/R8DX8LF7POI9P/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

The Man in the Iron Mask: The True Story of the Most Famous Prisoner in History and the Four Musketeers by Roger Macdonald

Truth really is stranger than fiction
In his 2008 book The Man in the Iron Mask, Roger Macdonald delves deeply into the real history behind the Three Musketeers novels of Alexandre Dumas. Though the novels are clearly based on actual events in the history of France, Dumas claimed that his most legendary characters—the Musketeers Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan—were concoctions of his fertile imagination. The historical record shows clearly, however, that although Dumas may have invented the unique personalities of each of these inimitable characters, the four famous Musketeers were in fact real people. Macdonald traces the true stories of these four daring adventurers and tells you just about everything you’d want to know about their lives and times. Along the way he reveals the alleged biological father of King Louis XIV and puts a name to a certain famous prisoner whose identity was forcibly concealed behind an iron mask.

Despite the obvious Dumas connection, one need not have read that author’s works to appreciate this book. In fact, Macdonald barely mentions Dumas. He concentrates solely on the history, and doesn’t stop to draw parallels between the novels and reality. Frankly, there is so much information packed between the covers of this book, there’s little room for any lit crit. Though it may be a cliché, Macdonald is a writer who truly never wastes a word. You’ll find few books that cram enough sheer facts into each sentence as this one does, yet the prose is still smooth and captivatingly readable throughout. Nevertheless, the barrage of data can be relentless. If your mind wanders for a second you’ll miss something important. The personages are all so interconnected with one another that there’s little that’s not important. Macdonald includes a list of “Principal Characters” at the front of the book, but the brief descriptions offer little guidance through this tangled web. I must confess that after the Musketeers died I did lose track of some of the plot threads. (That’s not a spoiler. This is history. Everyone dies.) But I managed to thoroughly enjoy the book nonetheless.

Having done no historical research into this topic, other than reading the trilogy of novels by Dumas, I’m in no position to argue with Macdonald’s hypothesis as to the identity of the Man in the Iron Mask. I realize that his theory is but one of many, and for me the veracity of his claim is not a prerequisite for enjoying this book. Regardless of whether he’s solved this great mystery or not, I did learn an awful lot about historical events in France during the reign of Louis XIV. As a fan of Dumas, it was a joy to experience this story from another angle, to see how closely the novelist stuck to the truth and where exactly he strayed. Macdonald’s theory of who wore the mask is a fascinating and provocative one, and how it unfolds over the course of the book is a great ride. Like a crafty mystery writer, he wisely chooses not to reveal his candidate until nearly the very end of the book.

The third novel in the Musketeers trilogy, Le Vicomte de Bragelonne, is often reprinted in English under the title of The Man in the Iron Mask. In my opinion, Macdonald’s book is even more interesting and exciting than its namesake. While I loved the first two books of Dumas’ trilogy, the finale—which occupies much of the historic ground that Macdonald covers here—is easily the weakest of the three. Macdonald shows us that the real story was even more fantastic than the great novelist envisioned. The lives of d’Artagnan, Louis XIV, and the Man in the Iron Mask were at times so outlandish and astonishing, you really couldn’t make this stuff up.
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/R1NTZUWR979VBI/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

The Comedienne by Wladyslaw Reymont

Off to a slow start
In his homeland of Poland, Wladyslaw Reymont is considered one of his country’s greatest authors. Though he won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1924, very few of his works have been translated into English. His four-volume masterpiece The Peasants hasn’t been printed in English in almost a century, and has yet to show up in an ebook edition. The same is true for another highly acclaimed novel, Promised Land. The one work of Reymont’s that is readily available in a public domain English translation is his first novel, Komediantka (The Comedienne), originally published in 1896.

Janina is the daughter of a railroad stationmaster in the rural town of Bukowiec. Though she is a beautiful young woman pursued by many suitors, she has no interest in marriage and wishes to remain independent, unfettered by the shackles of matrimony. She daydreams about escaping the confines of her hometown and becoming an actress. When she refuses a marriage proposal which had been arranged by her father, he becomes furious and casts her out, disowning her forever. Motivated by the loss of home and family, Janina is finally determined to make her theatrical dreams a reality.

She joins the company of a minor theatre on the outskirts of Warsaw, far removed from the prestigious theatre that bears the city’s name. This Polish equivalent of an “off-off-Broadway” company is a ramshackle operation, constantly in financial dire straits. In fact, the personnel of the company are so unprofessional it’s a wonder they make any money at all. The various players are constantly peppering each other with insults and squabbling over petty matters, not only behind the curtain but even on the very stage itself during public performances. Reymont pays a lot of attention to the malicious banter that’s hurled back and forth between the thespians—too much attention, in fact. For the first two-thirds of the book, this is all that happens. It’s as if the entire purpose of the novel is merely to describe this unpleasant environment and the aural combat that takes place there.

It isn’t until at least chapter eight (out of eleven) when things finally start happening and Janina begins to make any kind of progress either positive or negative. Her lofty notions of the artist’s life come into conflict with the reality of this theatre, in which the actresses are so underpaid they have to prostitute themselves to survive. While she may be able to resist the immorality, she can’t avoid the poverty. Before becoming a novelist Reymont worked in the theatre, and he clearly has a love for the stage. As the characters in the book debate the future of the dramatic arts, Reymont simultaneously glorifies the high ideals of the theatre while lamenting its poverty-stricken reality. There is some really profound stuff in chapter ten. Janina receives some advice from a stranger who represents a stoic philosophy of life diametrically opposed to her overly emotional nature. If only the rest of the book were this good! In the final three chapters one begins to see in Reymont’s writing some resemblance to the unflinching realism and social consciousness of the works of Emile Zola. In this debut novel, however, his potential is still unrealized.

It’s a shame that the only work by Reymont that’s readily available to English language readers is one that doesn’t adequately reflect his prodigious literary talent. Seek out and find The Peasants if you can. Meanwhile, I’ll be hunting for Promised Land.
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/R6D1IDP1X2IVF/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm