Absurd Fancies
Argh. Madame Bovary. I hate this book. Not because it's bad. Not because it's terribly written. Because it isn't — it's one of the best.
But because it's one draggingly long story about a repressed woman who is negotiating an opressed life and a supressed orgasm. It's depressing — at least, that was my opinion ten years ago. Maybe this childish opinion will change upon reading it a second time.
My understanding of choice has changed. Unlike in my younger, more earnest days, I no longer determined my choice by "right over wrong". Choice now — sometimes right, sometimes wrong — is a decision that I make based on the paths open to me. It's nebulous. It's tinged with a hint of wrong, though it feels right for me.
Madame Bovary is the story of the ruin of a woman consumed in her own absurd fancies.
What are yours?
But because it's one draggingly long story about a repressed woman who is negotiating an opressed life and a supressed orgasm. It's depressing — at least, that was my opinion ten years ago. Maybe this childish opinion will change upon reading it a second time.
My understanding of choice has changed. Unlike in my younger, more earnest days, I no longer determined my choice by "right over wrong". Choice now — sometimes right, sometimes wrong — is a decision that I make based on the paths open to me. It's nebulous. It's tinged with a hint of wrong, though it feels right for me.
Madame Bovary is the story of the ruin of a woman consumed in her own absurd fancies.
What are yours?
posted by Violet Chrome at
5:42 PM
1 Comments:
Sign me up.
I wish I had the courage to be ruined by my own fantasies. I always pussy out at the last minute...err...except for that whole marriage fantasy. Jumped head long into that one.
I would not survive without my absurd fantasies...like that Orlando-esque one where I wake up a twink and fuck my way through 10% of Vancouver.
(heehee, I rather like that one.)
I'm excited about the book though. If it's really as sad as you say Violet, then it is best to tackle it when the sun is out. How tragic could any story be when you've got sunscreen on and you're wondering if the wine will stay cold if you just dig it into the sand a little here.
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Mata Hari, at 7:51 PM
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