Abbé Mouret's Transgression, by Émile Zola.

Taken this afternoon.

The thaw has begun, and for the past few nights all I've heard is rain pounding the window and gales tearing through the forest. It's that difficult part of the year now: dirty snow lines the streets and patches the moors, fields, and pavements. Floods on the road, bitter cold, power cuts, and spring still feeling so terribly far away. Everything is soaking with rain, heavy, dirty, and so very cold.

There was a power cut a few nights ago. We arrived home around seven o' clock to find it had been out since three, but when we woke up the next morning it was back on. I read in candle light: The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom, and half of Anthony Trollope's An Autobiography. I should have caught up with The Faerie Queene (four cantos behind), but, for the same reason as I quickly abandoned Barchester Towers, the print was just too small to read in candle light. 

Trotwood and Zola.

The morning before, pre-power cut, I finished Abbé Mouret's Transgression, the fifth of Zola's 'Rougon Macquart' cycle from 1874. I hadn't intended to finish it quite so fast, but I couldn't put it down. It was unlike any Zola I've read so far, rich with allegory, beautiful, and, of course, bitter. This one followed very neatly from the fourth, The Conquest of Plassans, with the same anticlerical theme, however from another angle. Whereas in The Conquest of Plassans Zola wrote of the hypocrisy of the clergy coming from an over-involvement in politics, Abbé Mourtet's Transgression is about the unnatural state celibacy of the clergy. 

Serge Mouret is son of François and Marthe Mouret, who we all meet in The Conquest of Plassans. He takes his orders and becomes a priest in a parish that has little to no interest in him or the church, however, owing to events in Conquest, he actively seeks solitude, and so is unperturbed by this. He is deeply neurotic, which if you have read Conquest you will understand why, however, that said, you do not have to read the fourth to understand the fifth (which also gets me out of any spoilers!). He has a nervous breakdown, and is taken by his cousin Doctor Pascal (who was described, in the first of the books, as seeing, ".. 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") to Le Paradou. It is there he meets the wild, unconventional Albine.

As I say, the story is highly allegorical, and there are many Biblical parallels, not least the 'enchanted garden'. It really was unlike any other Zola I've read, it was more fantastic than social realist, however it worked as Zola; by the end, once in context, it was very much Zola.

What interested me most was Serge's infatuation with Mary, Mother of Jesus. He is besotted by her, and there are some passages where the infatuation is almost frighteningly intense. I think it could be possible to read this in a way that suggests the perversions of the clergy, but I do think that could be a mistake; I'd say it was more indicative of the sexual repression, which can be easily linked to mysticism (something I remember studying at university, and I'm far too aware of my lack of knowledge in theology and mysticism to elaborate at this point!).

It's religious themes are, as ever, fascinating, but I couldn't quite feel at ease with this one. I mentioned a few posts ago about the problems of translation, and I was interested to read this warning on Wikipedia:

 ... this text must be considered faulty by any student of literature due to its many omissions and bowdlerisations, as well as its rendering of Zola's language in one of his most technically complex novels into a prolix and flat style of Victorian English bearing little resemblance to the original text.

I'm glad to be aware of this. Conquest didn't quite sit so well with me either, however I did very much love both stories (note how on Goodreads both books got a four star rating, whereas all the other Zolas have had five stars). I do intend, when money permits, to get alternative translations, however, for now, when it comes to reading His Excellency (the sixth) and Doctor Pascal (the twentieth) I will have to stick with Vizetelly. One day, though, I'm sure I'll get better translations!

At this point, I have only one more Zola to read before I get to the seventh, L'Assomoir, which I would really love to read in Paris in the next five days. Because His Excellency, the fifth, is also translated by Vizetelly, I feel a little easier about reading it before I go instead of worrying that I'm rushing it. I'm also a little worried about the quality of this one: the print is small and very patchy indeed, and this one might be very hard on the eyes (when I looked at it in poor light last night, my eyes actually watered). So, because of this, I'm sad to say I don't have too much hope for His Excellency, and I'm very keen now on getting some decent translations of the three Vizetellys. Might be a while off, though.... I am so looking forward to L'Assomoir, and I will love reading it in Paris! Five days away!