Customer Reviews

The Charterhouse of Parma (Oxford Classics)

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'Charterhouse' is seemingly a very different novel from Stendhal's previous masterpiece, 'the Red and the Black'. where the earlier book used the style of an Alexander Dumas adventure story to ironise its static hero, Fabrice del Dongo does go through some exciting adventures - fighting in Waterloo, embroiled in a grubby duel, escaping from an 'impossible' prison-fortress - not all of which are essentially ridiculous.

The dilemma, however, is the same - an anachronistic hero, dreaming of great, chivalric deeds, is forced to collude with a mundane, self-interested, materialistic, middle-class dominated society, and is ultimately compromised by it. But where Julien Sorel was the compelling dark centre of his novel, Fabrice is often absent from his, his fate being decided by the lengthy machinations of others (although the rare decisions he finally takes tend to smash through the most intricate Machiavellianism).

Whereas Julien was surrounded by a generally pallid supporting cast, 'Charterhouse' bursts with extraordinary, larger-than-life characters - the beatiful Gina, arguably the real hero of the novel, disastrously in love with her nephew; her middle-aged lover Mosca (the same age as Stendhal!), Prime minister of Parma, tyrannical politician and wonderful man; the Prince, spoilt, vain, paranoid, murderously capricious; as well as republican-poets, deformed actors and a gallery of unforgettable minor characters.

Stendhal is the most beloved of 19th century writers because he eschews pedantic detail and description in favour of narrative momentum and the provisional expression of feeling and responses to experience (it is easy to see why Proust loves him). The rush, the joy, the hyperbole, the unpredictability of plot and style all match Fabrice's headlong character, and yet there is an in-built melancholy and critique largely unavailable to the hero.

The brilliant translation captures the thrill and deceptive ease of Stendhal's art (especially compared to the stumbling Penguin one); while Roger Pearson's beautiful Introduction is quite simply the best I have ever read, alive to the serious profundity of the book, but ultimately affirming its transcendent power.

If I were to describe the hero of "The Charterhouse of Parma" as a narcissistic, rakish young man who is always being rescued from his misadventures by his doting, clever aunt, it would sound like I was talking about a P.G. Wodehouse book. But set this story in early 19th Century northern Italy, build it on an opulent foundation of picaresque romance and political intrigue, add equal measures of comedy and tragedy, and you have Stendhal's exuberant, wonderful novel.

Stendhal portrays the towns and states of northern Italy, all of which are ruled (during the Napoleonic era) by princes and dukes of varying degrees of care and competence, as vibrant playgrounds of Shakespearean passions for the rich. It is among this aristocracy that the hero, Fabrice del Dongo, is born and raised. Selecting Napoleon as his own hero, he runs away to France to join his cavalry just in time for the Battle of Waterloo; however, his adventures end in disillusion and humiliation (things didn't go so well for Napoleon, either), and he returns to Milan where his malicious brother has gotten him into trouble with the law.

Thus Fabrice seems destined to live his life on the run. His good looks and devilish persona make him irresistible to girls and loathsome to their jealous boyfriends, one of whom, named Giletti, Fabrice is compelled to kill in self-defense. For this act, he is imprisoned in a high tower in Parma, where the Governor's daughter, Clelia Conti, who lives in a palazzo adjoining the tower, attracts his romantic interest and tries to protect him from being poisoned by his enemies.

Fabrice's aunt, Gina del Dongo, is as central a character to the novel as her nephew. She uses her legendary beauty and charm to influence men to do her favors, such as helping Fabrice break out of prison. Her partner in crime is the equally ambitious Count Mosca, who schemes his way to becoming Prime Minister and loves Gina madly. Helping her help Fabrice out of his predicaments poses a dilemma for him, however; he actually considers the young man his romantic rival. And in some perverse way, he's right.

Despite the ribald nature of the events, this is a sad novel; it is about people who mistake passion for the end rather than the means and let it destroy their lives. And yet the novel is often very funny, particularly in Stendhal's satirical comparisons between the French and the Italian mentalities. He is aware that the French reader will find the plot absurd and the characters hopelessly immoral, but the point he is making is that even though this type of behavior -- adultery, bribery, simony, murderous revenge -- exists in every country, the Italians do it with a particular flair that makes it a unique cultural phenomenon.

Having read all of the posted reviews I feel incapable to even attempt and surpass them in eloquence and analysis, especially as English is not my native language and literature is merely a way of discovering myself.
Having said that, I merely wish to deposit my humble opinion for a book which simply swept me away for its realistic description of an era full of corruption, vane ambition and senseless passion, masqueraded as pure love. Yes, I do believe that Stendhal provides us with a realistic depiction of courtizans, complex behaviours motivated by passion for glory, love, but most of all self-respect. Most of the reviewers have described the story-line and the main characters in an admirable way, despite some of them being over-critical of all or some of the heroes. It does not matter whether one likes the characters or not, what is essential is that we follow their lives, their inner thoughts and desires, their fears. Stendhal interchanges between prose and thoughts in such a way that I felt like I knew Fabrice, Gina, Count Mosca personally, like I was present, hidden in a corner, during all their (mis) adventures.
This was a period when passion was the dominant motive for all actions, when personal relationships were full of exaggeration, positive or negative. Gina loved Fabrice passionately, Fabrice sought love passionately, Mosca adored Gina passionately, Fabrice idolised Clelia passionately, even the Prince loved himself passionately. In an era (our present) when passion is so rare to be found and when most of us indulge into petty actions and thoughts in a mechanical way, the depiction of a period where everything was so full of emotions cannot but impress us. I repeat that you do not have to like the characters, nor appreciate their motives. I do not believe that Stendhal aimed at our sympathy, he simply, in a masterful way, wished us to see what happens when reason gives way to emotion, always within the unavoidable conventional constraints of that society and its ethics.
A corrupted,senseless,opulent era, too similar to our own, but for so many different reasons. I highly recommend this book, because it took me to a world where a man's life could be devoted to one thing only: a quest of happiness even if that meant personal torture. And as is well known, torture, is not inflicted only through physical means, eg. imprisonment, but equally through mental torment and suffering.
A great poet once wrote that we live, love, dream and die alone. Stendhal shows that we should all do this for the right reason and what is right is a personal matter. After finishing the book I discovered something, which perhaps my immaturity prevented me from seeing clearly up to then: seeking all the emotions that matter to me passionately.Stendhal is a psychologist of the highest calimbre and a great painter of human souls. For that reason alone, although there are so many more - and "meeting" the insuperable and sublime, in any conceivable way, divine Gina is one of them, this book should rank highly in everybody's reading list.

As Gide pointed out, this is probably the only French novel worthy to be considered in a list of the ten greatest novels ever written.

Stendhal wrote it in about 50 days after shutting himself away and refusing visitors the whole time. The result is an absolute wonder of narrative, with the ingenuity and magic of a fairy-tale spanning 500 pages.

Don't be put off if you didn't like The Red and the Black; in France, people have sometimes been divided up into Rougists (those who swear by the Red & Black) and Carthusians, and truly, the two could hardly be more different.

Read it: this book lives and breathes.

I read this novel in the original language (French) and was not suprised to realize that the literary style used by Stendhal is rather similar to that of other French authors of the period, such as Balzac. For those who have read "La Comedie humaine", I can say that the author goes somewhat deeper into portraying the psychological nature of his caracters while the action line is not as complex as that in a typical novel of Balzac. The book is good; not only does it introduce the reader to the society and life of early 19th century Italy and France, but also provide an easy-to-comprehend example of French Romanticism. At times the reader encounters a number of sytlistic inconsistencies (the author spent only 7 weeks to write the entire book), yet overall the prose is elegant and straightforward. For those readers who are fonder of postmodern literature, "The Charterhouse of Parma" is perhaps not as interesting. To put it in one sentence, the book is classic, but that does not necessarily make it very inovative!

Stendhal's _Charterhouse of Parma_ recounts the inter-relationships of the aristocracy and the middle class in the princely state of Parma, in the period prior to the unification of Italy. While there is much in it to recommend, there are long stretches in the novel which drag considerably and could have benefited from some creative editing. These include the historic narrative in the beginning of the book and in the sometimes endless and overly detailed wheeling and dealing between the characters.

Fabrizio Del Dongo, the son of a marchese, is the focal point of the book. Fabrizio is referred to throughout the book as "our hero," but appears to be anything but throughout most of the novel. His character is oftentimes so shallow, that one would not even consider him an anti-hero. As a young man, Fabrizio is an ardent admirer of Napoleon. He becomes somewhat involved with Napoleon's troops during Waterloo, but is unsure if he has actually fought in a battle.

Fabrizio's major claim to "heroism" rests on flirting with women and getting into fights with their lovers, one of whom he kills in self-defense, causing him to suffer many years of imprisonment. Like much of what happens in the book, his incarceration without trial is largely politically motivated. Although he is spared from execution, various enemies of Fabrizio's family ensure that Fabrizio is kept there and remains in constant danger of having his food poisoned.

What is particularly interesting is the incredible amount of corruption and skull-duggery that is presented in the novel. People get appointed or are promoted to high political and religious positions through promises of marriage and bribery. Ambitions are attained through assassinations, near-poisonings, murder plots, and kidnapping. The ends clearly justify the means in early 19th century Parma. Through political and family connections, Fabrizio, himself, becomes a church monsignor and then next in the succession to the position of archbishop.

Towards the conclusion of the book Fabrizio, who by then has become a high church official, makes a series of moving sermons to a highly enthusiastic congregation, where he pleads for pity for certain a man (himself) who has endured great suffering. He pines away for Clelia, who because of a promise she makes to her father, vows to the Madonna never again to "see" her lover, Fabrizio. At the end, it is through personal sacrifices, that Fabrizio, while still not a quite a hero, does become a figure worthy of being considered tragic.

I have a soft spot for Lowell Bair's translation (in Bantam Classics), but Mauldon's is about as good, maybe better. She catches Stendhal's insouciance and tempo wonderfully, and is more careful than Howard's Modern Library version. Of the old Penguin, the less said the better -- I've not seen the new Penguin, but I doubt very much it's better than Mauldon's. (Pearson's intro, like the one for the Oxford "Red & the Black" -- also a fine translation, by Catherine Slater -- is good too.)

For readers of Napoleonic history, and those who want to get the 'feel' of the moment when Napoleon was fighting his last battle (Waterloo), one cannot think of a better source than Stendhal's "The Charterhouse of Parma". The book is as captivating as "The Red and the Black", and in both stories the most unforgettable characters are the older women in love with the main protogonists.

The story begins at the plot where a young monk is announced to go to the world. He is sent to an aristocrat who needs a educated private secretary. The aristocrat trusts him to treat as a friend to send him with his secret message to other countries. Although his status at his employer's house goes up in such a way, he still remains to be sprung from a common bourgeois. The inhibited love with his employer's beautiful daughter is growing up gradually inside him. One day he can't endure his emotion to do something incredible. Is he killed?
If you are a young man, this novel must excite you without any question. As well as "The Red and the Black", it is undoubtedly interesting for the young.