Students and other readers have been divided on Flaubert’s great 19th century novel, “Madame Bovary,” one I highly recommend. (Including to those who might be able to tackle it in the original French.)
For those who don’t know the plot line, Emma Bovary was a flighty romantic married to a stodgy, but loyal country doctor, Charles. She was a big shopper, ordering (pre-Amazon) gorgeous, costly clothes from Paris. When the opportunity presented itself, she loved to dance at elegant balls. Eventually she had affairs, ones as I recall, with a suave aristocrat and a legal type who were more interesting (and less dependable) than her Charles.
The readers’ split? and a pretty even one at that? One side sees Madame Bovary as an utter hypocrite. Hubby Charles brought home the dough she needed to spend, and he himself was pretty simple in terms of what he needed in return. He enjoyed plain food and above all, was faithful and reliable. Today he’d probably be watching football games on the weekend cum chip dip. What’s not to like?
The other group sees Charles roughly the way his wife did – as a limited type, and in fact, downright boring. They don’t at all blame her for seeking out romance and adventure, and for wanting to go somewhere she’d never been before (to pilfer from an old pop song).
Well our American Bovarys (both male and female) sure bit the apple as well, starting in the ‘60s and ‘70s; and what was once taboo (including widespread divorce) became commonplace.
But many paid real prices, and in different ways foundered on those divorce rocks they at first didn’t notice. Meanwhile, many others have continued to avoid such shoals and put together good, lasting relationships, savoring the virtues of routine and yes, Charles Bovary-type dependability. For a long period they’ve shared the joys of making a home livable, and especially, seeing children, grandchildren, and/eventually great-grandchildren come into their own.
Of course there have been new, more recent developments coming down the pike in the U.S. One is the deferral of marriage, never mind a second one, but simply a first; and even entire, willed avoidance of it, which when too pervasive constitutes a sad trend, indeed.
A second is the efflorescence of new pitfalls that also hurt relationships, such as the easy lure of online gambling, online lack of attire (to put it in a sanitized way); not to mention easy-to-get “weed” that’s apparently more powerful and deleterious than in the late ‘60s, when it first made a youthful surge onto American main streets. Plus more crippling and even lethal drugs (think fentanyl, meth, and the rest of a sorry litany).
More generally, there’s been a great reduction in religious trammels, meaning less resistance even to old-time problems such as heavy drinking. Quite simply there are too darned many of these lures about. Too many casinos, too much this, that, the other, with vice no longer confined to places like Vegas that weren’t easy to visit on a regular basis.
The answer? I don’t have one, but I sure hope we get some relationships that work out quite well and durably. Even if one or the other person involved is “dependable” more than over-the-top fascinating. I guess in maturity I’ve come more toward the reading group which appreciated good old Charles Bovary!
Because on the whole we need more such. Men who putter with tools and take a break to watch the Bills or go out for a round of weekend golf; women who take time with a pot roast (which was one of Charles’ favorites, too). And hey, if you can keep dropping a little romance into the mix as well, then we can all applaud.
But no question, those easy lures and figurative minefields are all around, and mostly, they do relationship effectiveness little good. Too many are just a click or two away, and I suppose Ward Cleaver’s world IS gone and done with. Or hopefully not?
I take it Ward and June didn’t need too many recovery seminars; but in our day any such program gets my vote and approbation, because that kind of honesty and work will help relationships endure n this chaotic, somewhat crazy era in which we now live.
B.B. Singer has taught at several area colleges including Niagara University.