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| Trot says, "You needn't think I'll pose with EVERY Zola." |
... the new Paris, ablaze with every form of passionate enjoyment and resounding with the sound of gold.
La Curée (1871), or The Kill is the second in Émile Zola's Rougon Macquart cycle, and tells the story of Aristide Saccard, his second wife Renée and his son Maxime.
I had already met the journalist Aristide in The Fortunes of the Rougons: Aristide Saccard is Aristide Rougon, son of Pierre Rougon and Félicité Peuch, and the brother of Eugène, and he follows Eugène to Paris to make his fortune (remember the quote from the first book, The Fortunes of the Rougons - "For a moment he thought he could see, in a flash, the future of the
Rougon-Macquart family, a pack of wild, satiated appetites in the midst
of a blaze of blood and gold"*). Eugène tells his brother to change his name to avoid any bad association, and Aristide settles on 'Saccard':
For me, there is no question about Aristide: he is thoroughly dislikeable, and in an early scene, he plots to marry the rich Renée as his first wife, Angéle, lies dying. Angéle overhears the conversation, the plot between Aristide and his sister Sidonie, and fears she will not die quick enough, that he may kill her, but she is unable to speak, but her "eyes also betrayed the terrified amazement of a sweet, inoffensive nature that discovers at the last moment the infamy of this world, and shudders at the thought of the many years spent living with a thief." She soon dies, "She died as she had lived, discreetly, self-effacing in death as in life". She provides a contrast to Renée, to Paris, and to the mores of that society. It's nothing less than sickening.
I love Zola, I've made no secret of it, and I feel that reading Zola is a guaranteed good read. I've read so many of my 2012 Challenges this month, and I needed to step back for a moment, step away from that shelf, and I knew this book would be immense. The descriptions are lavish: "gold glints", "bright flashes", "the gleam of glass", "emerald trees, Sapphire roofs, and ruby weather cocks"... It's tense, painful, as I expect Zola to be. The opening of Fortunes was more murky as Dickens, but The Kill shone, and yet the glitter of it did not ever set a happy scene. It was as grim as the cemetery in Plassans, but the backdrop was golden mists and and golden dew: the new Paris. How exciting it must have been to live then, to see that happen... But the scenes towards the end, the crisis during a party, made it nightmarish, utterly grotesque. It was overwhelming for me, let alone Renée, and I wanted it to stop, I wanted it to focus on the matter in hand, but Zola kept it up, kept the pace, never letting it truly fall silent. That had such a nightmarish quality I've not seen before.
The scene is as important and as gripping as any of the characters, and Zola paints it perfectly. The descriptions throughout are wonderful, but most memorable to me as Renée's private apartment, "a nest of silk an lace, a marvel of luxurious coquetry". This part goes on for three or so pages, and becomes increasingly sensual, "redolent of nudity", as Renée and Maxime embark on their affair. I wish I could quote it all, or at least more, but I either have to write out three pages or dissect it, and I can't do that, it just doesn't work.
It's a strange, but marvellous book, and it left me with a headache, but that headache was worth it. Horrible people, excess, the scheming, plotting, and betrayal, those beautiful, golden scenes built but marred by the immorality, the sensuality, the uncontrolled sexuality of the noveau-riche, the pain of it all, but it truly is genius. I wish I could write about the end, but as I don't like to spoil endings, I'll say Zola absolutely nailed it. I can't wait to go on to read The Belly of Paris, but I'm having to pace myself a bit - after the third, I have a three book gap, but I certainly will get a hold of them eventually!
*NB: I've quoted from The Fortunes of the Rougons, however I don't mean to imply that one ought to read that before one reads The Kill. Everyone seems to agree that these books can be read in any order, and from the little I read, I am inclined to agree.
'I've got it.... Saccard, Aristide Saccard... with two c's... Eh! there's money in that name; it sounds like you're counting five-franc pieces.'At this time, Paris was undergoing great transformation - the small, narrow streets were being widened into great avenues with "neo-classical" architecture. It was also a time of lust, debauchery, sensuality, and, as Zola writes about in The Kill, immorality. Despite my introduction to this, the novel largely focuses on Renée. She reminds me a little of Emma Bovary (1856), however towards the end there is an alarming parallel with Lily Bart of The House of Mirth (1905, and my saying that does not give away the ending, however it made for a very tense read if you know as I do how The House of Mirth ends), and although I could not bring myself to like her, she was a very engaging character: I did care what happened to her, I would never have dreamt of putting this book down (hence an exceptionally late night last night), and, yes, at times, I felt sorry for her (the end, in particular, is absolute genius, it truly is - this is why you must read it, so we can discuss it!). The very early scenes set her up to be spoilt - "Oh, I'm bored, bored to death", however she is infinitely more complex that this first scene reveals. The development of Renée is subtle, compared and contrasted with the rebuilding and growth of the new Paris and her immediate surroundings, and her incestuous relationship with her husband's son Maxime made me wonder if she was quite simply a foul individual or a victim of this society.
Eugène had a crude sense of humour. He dismissed his brother, remarking with a smile:
'Yes, it's a name that will make you either a crook or a millionaire.'
For me, there is no question about Aristide: he is thoroughly dislikeable, and in an early scene, he plots to marry the rich Renée as his first wife, Angéle, lies dying. Angéle overhears the conversation, the plot between Aristide and his sister Sidonie, and fears she will not die quick enough, that he may kill her, but she is unable to speak, but her "eyes also betrayed the terrified amazement of a sweet, inoffensive nature that discovers at the last moment the infamy of this world, and shudders at the thought of the many years spent living with a thief." She soon dies, "She died as she had lived, discreetly, self-effacing in death as in life". She provides a contrast to Renée, to Paris, and to the mores of that society. It's nothing less than sickening.
I love Zola, I've made no secret of it, and I feel that reading Zola is a guaranteed good read. I've read so many of my 2012 Challenges this month, and I needed to step back for a moment, step away from that shelf, and I knew this book would be immense. The descriptions are lavish: "gold glints", "bright flashes", "the gleam of glass", "emerald trees, Sapphire roofs, and ruby weather cocks"... It's tense, painful, as I expect Zola to be. The opening of Fortunes was more murky as Dickens, but The Kill shone, and yet the glitter of it did not ever set a happy scene. It was as grim as the cemetery in Plassans, but the backdrop was golden mists and and golden dew: the new Paris. How exciting it must have been to live then, to see that happen... But the scenes towards the end, the crisis during a party, made it nightmarish, utterly grotesque. It was overwhelming for me, let alone Renée, and I wanted it to stop, I wanted it to focus on the matter in hand, but Zola kept it up, kept the pace, never letting it truly fall silent. That had such a nightmarish quality I've not seen before.
The scene is as important and as gripping as any of the characters, and Zola paints it perfectly. The descriptions throughout are wonderful, but most memorable to me as Renée's private apartment, "a nest of silk an lace, a marvel of luxurious coquetry". This part goes on for three or so pages, and becomes increasingly sensual, "redolent of nudity", as Renée and Maxime embark on their affair. I wish I could quote it all, or at least more, but I either have to write out three pages or dissect it, and I can't do that, it just doesn't work.
It's a strange, but marvellous book, and it left me with a headache, but that headache was worth it. Horrible people, excess, the scheming, plotting, and betrayal, those beautiful, golden scenes built but marred by the immorality, the sensuality, the uncontrolled sexuality of the noveau-riche, the pain of it all, but it truly is genius. I wish I could write about the end, but as I don't like to spoil endings, I'll say Zola absolutely nailed it. I can't wait to go on to read The Belly of Paris, but I'm having to pace myself a bit - after the third, I have a three book gap, but I certainly will get a hold of them eventually!
*NB: I've quoted from The Fortunes of the Rougons, however I don't mean to imply that one ought to read that before one reads The Kill. Everyone seems to agree that these books can be read in any order, and from the little I read, I am inclined to agree.
You're right o >> "..reading Zola is a guaranteed good read". And to read Zola you must prepare yourself, because there won't be much fun. It's hard for me to say "I'm enjoying Zola's book", because his books are not something you can just enjoy. It's intense and often horrible, but in the end it's always worth the reading.
ReplyDeleteThe Kill is already on my wishlist (I still have La Bete Humaine, The Masterpiece and The Debacle in queue). Thanks for your intense review! :)
What fun - I guess I find Zola a lot more fun than Fanda does, but I have not yet been able to take him quite seriously.
ReplyDeleteThis is the Zola novel I read not so long ago. What great descriptions of furniture and rooms, like Renée's suite that you mention. And the clothes - that Tahitian number at the end is unbelievable.
I was worried about the ending, too, especially that all of the "hunting \ kill" metaphors were going to become literal, with Renée the prey. Luckily the metaphors remain metaphorical.
I can't wait now to get into reading Zola, I've read too many great reviews and how could I not when I live in his birthplace and have somehow avoided reading him up to now! Shame on me :)
ReplyDeleteYou are really selling me on Zola! -Sarah
ReplyDelete