Mopping Up The Gravy
I'm coming to the end of Balzac- by which I mean I've exhausted the resources of our local library. Thus far I've read:
Eugenie Grandet
Pere Goriot
Le Peau de Chagrin
Illusions Perdues
Splendeurs et Miseres des Courtisanes
Cousine Bette
Cousin Pons.
Which leaves some eighty titles- many of them unavailable in modern English translation. Balzac is tremendous. Superhuman. I really don't know how one man managed to do (and know) so much.
Mind you, a good number of those eighty titles are short stories. The two books I borrowed on our last visit to the library (when I met an old girlfriend working at the tourist information desk- which was nice) contain fourteen.
When I've finished with them I'll be saying adieu to the great man and moving onto Zola.
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At least the moral corruption can't possibly be any worse than it is in Balzac.
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While Chestertone was agonizing over how many angels could dance on the head of a pin, Zola was making heroic, historic interventions to reveal massive political corruption and scandalous treatment of powerless people in powerful prose. I don't think they should be mentioned in the same breath.
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He hated political corruption and plutocracy- so in some respects he and Zola were on the same side.
The Father Brown stories were among the first grown-up things I read (that theme again) and I can't help loving him for that.
Also he had a great way with one-liners.
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