An existential psychoanalysis of Flaubert which only Sartre could have written. This is the very first volume, which is itself very lengthy and here we to get see Sartre's quite striking ability to make philosophical observations about a great writer—from his family background, early childhood to his adult life. Of course there are so many things which are repeated again and again that most of the readers would definitely get annoyed. But also here and there Sartre wrote so many beautiful lines to explore the hidden depth of Flaubert's mind. So this book(and all the upcoming volumes,which I will definetely read) is only for those who are either big fan of Sartre or Flaubert.
I am also wondering whether this is a biography or a book on existentialism or both. Or just some shiny words written by a writer who wrote it because he couldn’t sleep or he took so much of drugs. I don't know. I just had to read it because I hardly sleep and books are my only drugs. I also feel that Flaubert himself knew someone would dissect his symbolic body,his body of work,himself. He might have provoked other writers to go down and visit his hell. He might have said like one of John Donne's poem:
“Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring: For I am every dead thing, In whom love wrought new alchemy. For his art did express
A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptinessHe ruined me, and I am re-begot .
Of absence, darkness, death; things which are not. —”