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Marisa Livet | all galleries >> All My Galleries >> Minor monographs and divertissements >> The Grinning Cats' Productions >> The Grinning Cats' Book Club > "Flaubert's Parrot" by Julian Barnes - Chapter 6 - Incipit
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"Flaubert's Parrot" by Julian Barnes - Chapter 6 - Incipit

" Emma Bovary's Eyes.

Let me tell you why I hate critics. Not for the normal reasons: that they're failed creators( they usually aren't; they may be failed critics, but that's another matter); or that they're by nature carping, jealous and vain (they usually aren't; if anything, they might better be accused of over-generosity, of upgrading the second-rate so that their own fine discriminations thereby appear the rarer). No, the reason I hate critics - well, some of them- is that they write sentences like this:

Flaubert does not build up his characters, as did Balzac, by objective, external description; in fact, so careless is he of their outward appearance that on one occasion he gives Emma brown eyes (14); on another deep black eyes(15); and on another blue eyes (16).

This precise and dishartening indictment was drawn up by the late Dr Enid Starkie, Reader Emeritus in French Literature at the University of Oxford, and Flaubert's most exhaustive British biographer. The numbers in her text refer to footnotes in which she spears the novelist with chapter and verse.
I once heard Dr. Starkie lecture, and I'm glad to report that she had an atrocious French accent; one of those deliveries full of dame-school confidence and absolutley no ear, swerving between workaday correctness and farcical error, often within the same word...."


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Barry S Moore15-Aug-2013 05:07
I am reminded of "dead poets society" and how the poetry anthology preface describes how to measure poetry! My Keating wisely tears out the preface... A quote from the story. John Keating: We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?