What I'm Reading on Vacation

Lost Illusions by Honoré de Balzac

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I thought I was cynical before this, but Balzac has made me see that I suffer from a severe lack of imagination. My God! Lost Illusions could not be a more apt title for this book. The milk of human kindness is seldom in evidence here, and when it is, it is annihilated by self interest, jealousy and malice. I have rarely read a book that had me more tense, uncertain whether to pray for a character’s deliverance (usually a pointless exercise in French lit), bang his/her head against the wall, or hope that he/she gets what they deserve simply because they are too stupid to live. It’s like watching a train wreck, where the characters are standing like little ducks on the tracks. The book is notable too for Balzac’s depiction of Parisian society, with its decadence, cyncism and malice for the sake of malice, and the scores of artists dashed upon its rocks (which seems to be a common theme for 19th C writers). Balzac’s bitterness and pointed commentary on the publishing/journalism industry is fascinating. It also shows that not much has changed in 150 years, which is depressing. Having said all that, I found the whole thing perversely entertaining, enlightening and enthralling. I’m continuing on with Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life to see if Lucien manages—despite all evidence to the contrary—to become an intelligent human being.

I probably should not have read this so close on the heels of Stendhal. The characters of Lucien in Lost Illusions and Julien Sorel in The Red and the Black share a lot of characteristics. I fear I will spend the rest of my life getting the two mixed up.



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