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the_lady_lily) wrote2007-01-10 05:06 pm
the_lady_lily) wrote2007-01-10 05:06 pm
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Bibliography
Les Liaisons Dangereuses - Laclos
I am a big fan of Cruel Intentions, and saw a stage production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses in Cambridge, but had never got round to reading the actual novel. Then, whilst in a second-hand bookshop in Aldeburgh, a charming Penguin Classics copy jumped out at me for the princely sum of two of your English pounds, and that was that. It's been providing me with passer-by reading for the last week, and goodness, was it a good choice for a book to read whilst on the move. This is partly because of the epistolary format, i.e. the narrative takes the form of letters.
Now, epistolary novels can, frankly, be a bit pants, mainly because the letters are only between person A and person B, possibly with person C thrown in; the letters can appear unreasonably long or short for the medium of a letter; exactly the same events are told without any shading; in toto, it can all feel a bit painfully contrived and slightly daft. Thankfully, Laclos does not make any of the cardinal mistakes, and actually has taken its place as my favourite epistolary novel of all time (not that I can think of any others off the top of my head; every one I think of is actually more of a diary novel. That there are no other obvious contenders may be telling).
Les Liaisons Dangereuses has fascinated people because of its two protagonists, the Vicomte de Valmont and the Marquise de Merteuil. Between them, with intertwined and sometimes contrary motives, they conspire to manipulate the lives of Madame de Tourvel (virtuous wife of two years standing, staying with Valmont's aunt, impenetrable fortress of virtue), Cécile de Volanges (daughter of Madame de Volanges who has offended Valmont, fresh out of convent) and the Chevalier Danceny (not terribly bright, fearfully in love with Cécile). Obviously, Valmont (being a bit of a rogue) manages to seduce Madame de Tourvel after quite a long and fervent battle, and to seduce Cécile on the side. Danceny discovers this latter fact and calls Valmont to a duel, killing him. By this point, having (one suspects) rather got into this business with Madame de Tourvel a bit deeper than he meant to, Valmont has thrown her over on the Marquise de Merteuil's insistence (so that she will become his lover again), only to have it thrown back in his face with the realisation that this was merely the Marquise's whim. Obviously, on his deathbed, Valmont hands over incriminating papers to Danceny, who then publishes them. Cécile retires to a convent while Madame de Tourvel (delerious after being thrown over and in a convent herself) dies of a mixture of guilt, grief and insanity. Everyone gets a bad end.
The problem is that Valmont and the Marquise are - well, quite compelling. They are witty, erudite, charming, well-spoken, and utterly amoral. This, of course, was the cause of the scandal when the book was published, that two such rotters should be allowed to be so charismatic. Laclos has, of course, shrewdly noted that the problem with these people is so often that they are delightful whilst at the same time possessing the morals of a cat. Equally, they'll quite happily stick the knife in to each other, as the Marquise's quite frankly vicious behaviour towards Valmont amply demonstrates (as if the preceeding narrative wasn't quite sufficient to establish that element of her character).
I have to say that I did very much enjoy this; obviously, having seen the stage play, I knew exactly what was coming, but the writing! It's wonderful, beautiful, poetic, characterful. Cécile's innocent letters which clearly are those of a 15 year old without a clue contrast beautifully to the Marquise's elegant and sophisticated compositions. I have to say that the plot, now, is probably somewhat less morally disturbing than it once was; as a society, we accept that not all the beautiful people are morally upright, and indeed are rather disturbed when they are. But this book is definitely worth reading for the language and the imagery, and the episodic nature of the letters means that it's perfect for picking at without breaking the flow.
I am a big fan of Cruel Intentions, and saw a stage production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses in Cambridge, but had never got round to reading the actual novel. Then, whilst in a second-hand bookshop in Aldeburgh, a charming Penguin Classics copy jumped out at me for the princely sum of two of your English pounds, and that was that. It's been providing me with passer-by reading for the last week, and goodness, was it a good choice for a book to read whilst on the move. This is partly because of the epistolary format, i.e. the narrative takes the form of letters.
Now, epistolary novels can, frankly, be a bit pants, mainly because the letters are only between person A and person B, possibly with person C thrown in; the letters can appear unreasonably long or short for the medium of a letter; exactly the same events are told without any shading; in toto, it can all feel a bit painfully contrived and slightly daft. Thankfully, Laclos does not make any of the cardinal mistakes, and actually has taken its place as my favourite epistolary novel of all time (not that I can think of any others off the top of my head; every one I think of is actually more of a diary novel. That there are no other obvious contenders may be telling).
Les Liaisons Dangereuses has fascinated people because of its two protagonists, the Vicomte de Valmont and the Marquise de Merteuil. Between them, with intertwined and sometimes contrary motives, they conspire to manipulate the lives of Madame de Tourvel (virtuous wife of two years standing, staying with Valmont's aunt, impenetrable fortress of virtue), Cécile de Volanges (daughter of Madame de Volanges who has offended Valmont, fresh out of convent) and the Chevalier Danceny (not terribly bright, fearfully in love with Cécile). Obviously, Valmont (being a bit of a rogue) manages to seduce Madame de Tourvel after quite a long and fervent battle, and to seduce Cécile on the side. Danceny discovers this latter fact and calls Valmont to a duel, killing him. By this point, having (one suspects) rather got into this business with Madame de Tourvel a bit deeper than he meant to, Valmont has thrown her over on the Marquise de Merteuil's insistence (so that she will become his lover again), only to have it thrown back in his face with the realisation that this was merely the Marquise's whim. Obviously, on his deathbed, Valmont hands over incriminating papers to Danceny, who then publishes them. Cécile retires to a convent while Madame de Tourvel (delerious after being thrown over and in a convent herself) dies of a mixture of guilt, grief and insanity. Everyone gets a bad end.
The problem is that Valmont and the Marquise are - well, quite compelling. They are witty, erudite, charming, well-spoken, and utterly amoral. This, of course, was the cause of the scandal when the book was published, that two such rotters should be allowed to be so charismatic. Laclos has, of course, shrewdly noted that the problem with these people is so often that they are delightful whilst at the same time possessing the morals of a cat. Equally, they'll quite happily stick the knife in to each other, as the Marquise's quite frankly vicious behaviour towards Valmont amply demonstrates (as if the preceeding narrative wasn't quite sufficient to establish that element of her character).
I have to say that I did very much enjoy this; obviously, having seen the stage play, I knew exactly what was coming, but the writing! It's wonderful, beautiful, poetic, characterful. Cécile's innocent letters which clearly are those of a 15 year old without a clue contrast beautifully to the Marquise's elegant and sophisticated compositions. I have to say that the plot, now, is probably somewhat less morally disturbing than it once was; as a society, we accept that not all the beautiful people are morally upright, and indeed are rather disturbed when they are. But this book is definitely worth reading for the language and the imagery, and the episodic nature of the letters means that it's perfect for picking at without breaking the flow.
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[1] I should probably mention that I don't have nearly enough time to read it in the next... oh, three years or so ;)
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