![]() ![]() To begin with, I should say that another reason I avoided reading Madame Bovary is because I hate reading classics in translation unless I’m sure I have an excellent translation. The edition my wife read had several awkward sentences - and even used the word “freaking,” as in “I’m freaking hungry” - so it was hard to believe that it was faithful to the flow and passion of Flaubert’s language. And, honestly, after reading another critical essay about a contemporary book that has its roots in Madame Bovary, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. And then my wife read it a few years ago and has been coaxing me to open it up. I know: I’m way behind here. Consistently lauded as one of the two or three greatest novel of all time, frequently the precedent to whatever book I’m reading (can one write about adultery without some root in Madame Bovary?), but I thought I knew everything about it because it’s one of those stories one cannot help but have touched upon somewhere. Why read it, then? Well, it’s a bit awkward in conversation when I admit that I’ve never read it.
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