Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary is a book I read ages ago in the Lydia Davis translation, but one that has persisted in my memory strongly, and one that I have been reminiscing about deeply as of late, so that I wanted to write down my thoughts on my first read now while I still remember most things. I really enjoyed Madame Bovary, and I think it was very formative on my future of reading as a whole. To be honest, it was a book I knew very little about besides the fact a website dedicated to ranking classic books used to have it in the top 10. So when I saw it in a nice, ruffled-page edition in Barnes and Noble, I was curious enough to get it. Madame Bovary was an amazing reading experience and one that helped to shape how I interpret and wrestle with great literature, as well as certain aspects of great literature that I prefer more than others. 

What is really amazing about Madame Bovary is how quickly the plot can be summed up. I try to be as spoiler-free as possible in my reviews while still needing to discuss certain aspects of the plot, so all that I will say about the story is that it involves the titular Madame Bovary and her cheating on her husband. Now I know that does not sound like a very enjoyable plot for a book that is apparently so good, so I do have to explain why I love this book so much, which also ties in to how it informed me of my literary tastes as a reader. As somewhat silly and unexciting as it sounds, Madame Bovary is not a book you read for the plot. The entire story can be summarized further in 10 seconds, and it is not what makes the book so good. You should read Madame Bovary to savor the prose. Flaubert was one of the forefathers of realism in the Western novel, and he was famous for taking painstaking amounts of time to perfect each and every one of his sentences. Flaubert’s writing is so good (and so well captured in Davis’ translation) that he could make a description of grass growing an enthralling experience. And that is not to say that Flaubert is writing about trifling, unworthy subjects in Madame Bovary, because that is not the case. The novel’s captivating writing gets spent most on character study, particularly of Madame Emma Bovary herself. 

In a major way, realizing how much I can enjoy a book based on deep character study and painstaking efforts in the structuring and writing of a novel was very informative of how I read books in the future, and what my tastes in reading are. It makes perfect sense after all; I never have been able to enjoy a book with a good plot but bad prose anymore than a painting with a good concept and horrific execution. 

Another fun thing I really enjoyed about this book was how Flaubert follows a common 19th century trope of being a vocal narrator; someone who is not omnipresent and detached from the plot, but someone who voices their own opinions. This style can be found commonly in early 19th century novels, including those by Jane Austen, Walter Scott, and Charles Dickens. However, Flaubert modifies this trope by flip-flopping between judgements. For example, on one page he will denounce Emma Bovary for cheating on her husband, and on the next page he will say instead how it is hard to blame her because of the stifling life she has been forced to live. The effect that this style creates is one that ultimately leaves no judgement on Madame Bovary in the book, leaving all the opinion-making up to the reader. I think that’s neat!

For the entirety of writing this review, it has become alarmingly clear that I feel a strong urge to reread Madame Bovary, and perhaps I will in the near future! For anyone who has not read it yet, or is deciding whether to reread it or not, I say go for it! I promise, even though the plot can be slow and uncomfortable, you will not be disappointed.