Friday, 28 September 2012

The Nun, by Denis Diderot.

I don't know quite where to begin! Well, La Religieuse, or The Nun by Denis Diderot (published 1796) was, I have learned, written as a hoax: the purpose was initially to lure Marc-Antoine-Nicholas Croismare, Marquis of Lasson, back to Paris. Following the death of his wife, Suzanne Davy de La Pailleterie (a relation of Alexandre Dumas), the Marquis quit Paris and stayed away for eight years,  during which time he had taken interest in the real life case of Marguerite Delamarre, who had claimed that, like the narrator of The Nun Suzanne Simonin, she was forced to take her vows against her will. Diderot, along with his friends, decided to trick the Marquis into returning, and the letters, turned into the novel, were purported to be from Suzanne, appealing to the Marquis for help.

Reading this, this 18th Century novel based on the letters of a desperate woman held against her will, how could I not think of Clarissa and Pamela by Samuel Richardson? So, I was very happy to see in the introduction, by the translator Russell Goulbourne, that Diderot was greatly influenced by Richardson:
Diderot returned to fiction in the 1760s because of Samuel Richardson. Richardson's three epistolary novels, Pamela (1742), Clarissa (1748), and Sir Charles Grandison (1754), enjoyed a huge success in France, thanks in part to the prompt publication of translations of them. Diderot published an important Eulogy of Richardson (Éloge de Richardson) in 1762, shortly after the novelist's death in 1761. Hitherto, Diderot argues in his Eulogy, novels have been scorned, relegated to the bottom division in the literary hierarchy, dismissed as so much frivolous froth, if not downright immoral. But Richardson changed all that, writing novels that offer a lifelike rendering of the real world, a vision of human experience, a source of knowledge and wisdom, emotionally charged and morally uplifting... It is precisely this kind of Richardsonian reading experience that Diderot seems to be trying to recreate in The Nun
I fear some of you may be put off by this. No one, for one thing, seems to like Clarissa, and another thing, Richardson has a reputation as being a humourless, preaching bore (he isn't, by the way, he is none of the above! Team Richardson!). But even if you think he is, do not be put off The Nun, because although there are many similarities between the two, there are also some sharp contrasts. The Nun, banned by the French government between 1824 - 1826, has been described by The Catholic Herald in 1967 as standing "half way—and half way is far enough—between Richardson and de Sade". Indeed, too, some scenes are reminiscent of Fanny Hill, although not near as explicit. In the first part of the novel, Suzanne is subject to degradation, and damn-near torture by her Mother Superior and her fellow nuns. In the second part, she is the focus of the attentions of the lesbian Mother Superior at her new convent; the scenes, as I say, not too unlike Cleland's Fanny Hill, however a tad more subtle. Furthermore, Fanny Hill was pornographic, however there is only an element of the pornographic in The Nun. It's themes are more wide-reaching. It is a satire, above all else, of the convent life: the claustrophobia and obsessions, much magnified by the isolation: Suzanne writes,
Man is born to live in society. Separate him, isolate him, and his way of thinking will become incoherent, his character will change, a thousand foolish fancies will spring up in his heart, bizarre ideas will take root in his mind like brambles in the wilderness. Put a man in a forest and he will become wild; put him in a cloister, where the idea of coercion joins forces with that of servitude, and it is even worse. You can leave a forest, but you can never leave a cloister; you are free in the forest, but you are a slave in the cloister. It perhaps takes even more strength of character to withstand solitude than it does poverty. A life of poverty is degrading; a life cut off from society is depraving.
As a study or satire of this life in isolation from wider society, it works. It portrays dark obsession and is hysterical at times, and very confused as well. The beginning is strange, and the end stranger, as though they don't quite work to the novel as a whole; perhaps ultimately it's a let down, but I think that is down to the individual to decide. For me, like I said at the beginning, I don't know where to start: yes I liked it (I loved it), and yes, it is certainly a book people should try to get a hold of, but it is so so odd. But, then, a book is more than it's ending, so perhaps that doesn't matter. I love the motivation, too: The Nun is an accidental classic, and I think that's wonderful!

Finally, I must say, given my method for choosing this book, this one has been a huge success. It's an absolutely fascinating read. And next up? I think it has to be The Monk by Matthew Lewis.

1 comment:

  1. Random reading! Yes, I'm so glad we have both discovered the merit of it. When I went to a secondhand bookshop last week, here in Edinburgh, I had to choose between a lovely hardback copy of Cranford or an ordinary paperback Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake, whom I have never ever heard of before! I chose the latter and m very glad I did.

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