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November
An intense, passionate, and profoundly moving work, Flaubert's November explores the notions of desire and longing to most remarkable effect. Wrestling with the agony of loneliness, a young man withdraws deeper into himself, believing he has now reached the autumn of his life. His increasing hopelessness gives way to a yearning for romance—surely the love of a woman can deliver him the purpose he so craves? Convinced of the truth of this, he visits Marie, a kindhearted prostitute—yet Marie, too, is starved of love and longs for acceptance. Together, they form a tragic portrait of personal anguish, heralding the extraordinary outpouring of romantic longing found in Flaubert’s later novels. Most famous for Madame Bovary and Sentimental The Story of a Young Man, Gustave Flaubert is one of the undisputed masters of 19th-century fiction.
106 pages, Paperback
First published October 25, 1842
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About the author
Gustave Flaubert
2,230 books3,874 followersGustave Flaubert was a French novelist. He has been considered the leading exponent of literary realism in his country and abroad. According to the literary theorist Kornelije Kvas, "in Flaubert, realism strives for formal perfection, so the presentation of reality tends to be neutral, emphasizing the values and importance of style as an objective method of presenting reality". He is known especially for his debut novel Madame Bovary (1857), his Correspondence, and his scrupulous devotion to his style and aesthetics. The celebrated short story writer Guy de Maupassant was a protégé of Flaubert.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 172 reviews
May 23, 2024
Chaque minute de ma vie se trouve tout à coup séparée de l'autre par un abîme, entre hier et aujourd'hui il y a pour moi une éternité qui m'épouvante, chaque jour il me semble que je n'étais pas si misérable la veille et, sans pouvoir dire ce que j'avais de plus, je sens bien que je m'appauvris et que l'heure qui arrive m'emporte quelque chose, étonné seulement d'avoir encore dans le coeur place pour la souffrance ; mais le coeur de l'homme est inépuisable pour la tristesse : un ou deux bonheurs le remplissent, toutes les misères de l'humanité peuvent s'y donner rendez-vous et vivre comme des hautes.
(photograph Friedhof Heidelberg, by André Wohlgemuth)
(photograph Friedhof Heidelberg, by André Wohlgemuth)
March 20, 2016
Maybe happiness too is a metaphor invented on a day of boredom.
November 11, 2021
Ne znam kako mi je Flober izmicao svih ovih godina, ali je ovaj čovek genijalan🖤 Jako sam srećna što sam uzela ,,Novembar” u svoje ruke ove jeseni, ovog novembra. Mnogi stavovi u ovoj knjizi su mi bili bliski i imala sam osećaj da pričamo zajedno ili da sam na grupnoj terapiji😁 Iako je knjižica mala, ja sam bukvalno sve ispodvlačila, odobravala, stavljala srculenca i osećala stvari o kojima piše.
Nakon ove knjige ću definitivno nastaviti sa čitanjem njegovih preostalih dela.
Ako volite intimne ispovesti i uvid u razmišljanja depresivnih ljudi ovo je knjiga za Vas. Ja obožavam😀 Nisam očekivala da će mi ostaviti ovako sjajan utisak.
Nakon ove knjige ću definitivno nastaviti sa čitanjem njegovih preostalih dela.
Ako volite intimne ispovesti i uvid u razmišljanja depresivnih ljudi ovo je knjiga za Vas. Ja obožavam😀 Nisam očekivala da će mi ostaviti ovako sjajan utisak.
September 27, 2023
"Zašto nismo dovoljno osetili svoju sreću kada smo je držali u rukama?"
"U času rastanka postoji trenutak u kome voljena osoba, time što tuga unapred ovlada nama, nije više kraj nas."
"Uzalud čovek želi da preko starih strasti poseje nove, uvek niču stare, na svetu nema snage koja bi iščupala njihovo korenje."
"Trudite se da budete srećni! Ali kako? I zašto bi se čovek toliko paštio? U prirodi je sve dobro, drveće raste, reke teku, ptice pevaju, zvezde sijaju; ali čovek, koji nigde nema mira, večito se trudi, vrzma, krči šumu, prevrće zemlju, otiskuje se na more, putuje, trči, ubija životinje, ubija samog sebe, i plače, i urla, i misli na pakao, kao da mu je Bog dao razum zato da bi izmišljao još veća zla nego što su ona koja ovde podnosi!"
„zar na zemlji nema nijednog mesta koje smo dovoljno voleli, gde smo tako dugo živeli da nam ono pripada do smrti, i da niko osim nas tu nikada ne priviri?”
"U času rastanka postoji trenutak u kome voljena osoba, time što tuga unapred ovlada nama, nije više kraj nas."
"Uzalud čovek želi da preko starih strasti poseje nove, uvek niču stare, na svetu nema snage koja bi iščupala njihovo korenje."
"Trudite se da budete srećni! Ali kako? I zašto bi se čovek toliko paštio? U prirodi je sve dobro, drveće raste, reke teku, ptice pevaju, zvezde sijaju; ali čovek, koji nigde nema mira, večito se trudi, vrzma, krči šumu, prevrće zemlju, otiskuje se na more, putuje, trči, ubija životinje, ubija samog sebe, i plače, i urla, i misli na pakao, kao da mu je Bog dao razum zato da bi izmišljao još veća zla nego što su ona koja ovde podnosi!"
„zar na zemlji nema nijednog mesta koje smo dovoljno voleli, gde smo tako dugo živeli da nam ono pripada do smrti, i da niko osim nas tu nikada ne priviri?”
August 17, 2016
"Bio sam, dakle, ono sto ste vi svi, covek koji zivi, koji spava, koji jede, koji pije, koji place, koji se smeje, koji se sasvim povukao u sebe i koji uvek iznova nalazi u sebi, kud god da krene, iste rusevine nada, koje se ruse cim se podignu, istu prasinu smrvljenih stvari, iste staze, hiljadu puta obilazene, iste neistrazene, stravicne i dosadne dubine. Niste li poput mene umorni od toga sto se budite svakog jutra i sto opet vidite sunce, umorni da zivite uvek istim zivotom, da patite od istog bola, umorni da zelite i umorni da se zgadite, umorni da cekate i umorni da imate?"
January 7, 2011
I love this book. As I read it, I was constantly reminded of my favorite poem:
what would you do
if all the lovers of your years
passed by at midnight
dressed in the flesh
they wore when you
last loved them?
what do I do?
what do I say?
I loved you then,
I touch you now
with all the glow
you left in the palm of my hands.
Robin Blaser (1925-2009)
Although it appears the discovery of sexuality, love, and passion is at the forefront of the book--it is much more than that. It is about the human condition--it is about experience (both lovely and appalling)--it is about the inanities of life and society--it is about being trapped within yourself and released--it is about coming of age, even when your grown--it is about the end of innocence and life, of spirituality--it is about haunting loneliness and the grasp of alienation--it is about the human experience that draws us into and away from ourselves and others. This text is so multi-layered that I will re-read this book many times over simply to grasp all of its implications..
I did not like the ending, but I understand its purpose. The ending is why I give the book four stars instead of five.
what would you do
if all the lovers of your years
passed by at midnight
dressed in the flesh
they wore when you
last loved them?
what do I do?
what do I say?
I loved you then,
I touch you now
with all the glow
you left in the palm of my hands.
Robin Blaser (1925-2009)
Although it appears the discovery of sexuality, love, and passion is at the forefront of the book--it is much more than that. It is about the human condition--it is about experience (both lovely and appalling)--it is about the inanities of life and society--it is about being trapped within yourself and released--it is about coming of age, even when your grown--it is about the end of innocence and life, of spirituality--it is about haunting loneliness and the grasp of alienation--it is about the human experience that draws us into and away from ourselves and others. This text is so multi-layered that I will re-read this book many times over simply to grasp all of its implications..
I did not like the ending, but I understand its purpose. The ending is why I give the book four stars instead of five.
October 13, 2020
4,5, ali hajde neka bude 5, čudno mi je prijala, premda nije za 5.
March 4, 2022
“…hay días en los que uno está tan triste que quisiera afligirse aún más”
August 16, 2022
Me gustó cómo Flaubert encontró la salida antes que la trama se le escapara. Estaba claro que si continuaba en la misma dirección no iba a llegar a nada y toda la escritura terminaría siendo un desperdicio. Entonces, inesperadamente, encontró el atajo para salir bien librado, desprenderse de la solemnidad que cubría página tras página y tomarse la dificultad de completar la historia con humor.
Lo que empieza como una grave confesión juvenil de amor y melancolía y continúa como un nocturno diálogo entre dos amantes imposibles que sufren por desear y anhelan ya no sufrir, termina como un verdadero homenaje formal y técnico al maestro que descubrió o inventó el mejor atajo para huir de la seriedad del tono y del forcejeo permanente que implica cerrar nudos, atar cabos y terminar la historia, el que inventó la peregrina técnica de lavarse las manos en plena acción, jugando con el lector, con su credulidad y con sus expectativas: Miguel de Cervantes.
Flaubert descubre la ironía cervantina justo cuando llega al clímax de lo que cuenta y tiene que decidir, entre varias opciones poco convincentes y aburridas, la mejor que le pueda llevar al final. No se decide por ninguna. Se salta el libreto. No sigue el guión. Hace trampa, recurre a Cervantes, inventa un nuevo narrador, se lleva de encuentro todo lo que ha escrito y se dirige al lector con total confianza, le cuenta un par de cosas anodinas, lo matiza con opiniones aparentemente sinceras y sin más, llega al último párrafo, suelta esa frase que ironiza con la ingenuidad o credulidad del lector, sale airoso, agrega un par de líneas, pone el punto final y se va.
Está claro que no es su mejor trabajo, y que muchas veces se pierde o no sabe por dónde seguir, pero logra describir con mucha solvencia las turbaciones de un muchacho casto que desea conocer el placer, primero, y luego el amor, y que hasta descubrirlo se refugia (o se hunde) en la belleza contemplativa, en la depresión y en el vacío, y el de una joven prostituta que anhela conocer el amor, primero, y luego, o al mismo tiempo, el cariño devoto, desinteresado, sincero.
Flaubert aún está explorando la precisión de las oraciones y el modo en que se enlaza con el ritmo de la trama. Ni sabe dosificar bien la enumeración descriptiva o la floritura barroca, ni rehuye al ritmo maniqueo de 'chico conoce chica'. Pero tampoco insiste en calzar en los marcos comunes. Nunca prosigue en automático, ni es predecible. Justo cuando parece que su prosa se estabiliza, y la escena va fluyendo, irrumpe con algo insólito, inesperado. Ya sea con un recuerdo de la playa o con la voz de Marie, la prostituta joven que le quiere contar su vida, o con la inusitada aparición de otro narrador.
La historia, en simple, es una incompleta love story de menos de un día. Se sabe qué pasó antes de ese encuentro (el narrador-protagonista le cuenta al lector su vida de casto antes de conocer a Marie, y al conocerla, al oírla por unas pocas horas, ella le cuenta al narrador su vida antes de conocerlo), pero no lo que pasó después.
Lo que pasó después lo cuenta otro narrador, cómplice del lector y amigo del protagonista. Pero lo que cuenta no es tan exacto ni tan creíble, o al menos, no irrefutable. Es un rumor, sugiere este nuevo narrador, un chisme que escuchó y que lo comparte para terminar la historia.
Si uno quisiera valorar este relato desde los parámetros de la posmodernidad y lo fragmentario, posiblemente encontraría varios elementos afines. Si quisiera hacerlo desde el romanticismo, aquí hay un ejemplo que anticipa su crisis.
Yo prefiero verlo como un antecedente tierno (en todas las acepciones posibles de tierno) de la película «Before Sunrise» (1995). Encaja en ese ritmo, en esa estética, en ese amor.
Incluso, cuando todo termina, cuando el chico y la chica se separan, y el amor aún enrarece el aire, incluso ahí, encaja en el desconsuelo.
Dice el protagonista: «En el pasado, antes de Marie, mi hastío poseía algo hermoso, algo sublime. Pero ahora resulta estúpido, es el tedio de alguien ebrio de mal aguardiente, el sopor de un hombre borracho perdido».
-
Léanla con una copa de champagne rosé 🥂 y escuchando, entre descanso y descanso, a todo volumen, «Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now» de Starship. 🎶 En serio, combina nuy bien.
✌🏽
Lo que empieza como una grave confesión juvenil de amor y melancolía y continúa como un nocturno diálogo entre dos amantes imposibles que sufren por desear y anhelan ya no sufrir, termina como un verdadero homenaje formal y técnico al maestro que descubrió o inventó el mejor atajo para huir de la seriedad del tono y del forcejeo permanente que implica cerrar nudos, atar cabos y terminar la historia, el que inventó la peregrina técnica de lavarse las manos en plena acción, jugando con el lector, con su credulidad y con sus expectativas: Miguel de Cervantes.
Flaubert descubre la ironía cervantina justo cuando llega al clímax de lo que cuenta y tiene que decidir, entre varias opciones poco convincentes y aburridas, la mejor que le pueda llevar al final. No se decide por ninguna. Se salta el libreto. No sigue el guión. Hace trampa, recurre a Cervantes, inventa un nuevo narrador, se lleva de encuentro todo lo que ha escrito y se dirige al lector con total confianza, le cuenta un par de cosas anodinas, lo matiza con opiniones aparentemente sinceras y sin más, llega al último párrafo, suelta esa frase que ironiza con la ingenuidad o credulidad del lector, sale airoso, agrega un par de líneas, pone el punto final y se va.
Está claro que no es su mejor trabajo, y que muchas veces se pierde o no sabe por dónde seguir, pero logra describir con mucha solvencia las turbaciones de un muchacho casto que desea conocer el placer, primero, y luego el amor, y que hasta descubrirlo se refugia (o se hunde) en la belleza contemplativa, en la depresión y en el vacío, y el de una joven prostituta que anhela conocer el amor, primero, y luego, o al mismo tiempo, el cariño devoto, desinteresado, sincero.
Flaubert aún está explorando la precisión de las oraciones y el modo en que se enlaza con el ritmo de la trama. Ni sabe dosificar bien la enumeración descriptiva o la floritura barroca, ni rehuye al ritmo maniqueo de 'chico conoce chica'. Pero tampoco insiste en calzar en los marcos comunes. Nunca prosigue en automático, ni es predecible. Justo cuando parece que su prosa se estabiliza, y la escena va fluyendo, irrumpe con algo insólito, inesperado. Ya sea con un recuerdo de la playa o con la voz de Marie, la prostituta joven que le quiere contar su vida, o con la inusitada aparición de otro narrador.
La historia, en simple, es una incompleta love story de menos de un día. Se sabe qué pasó antes de ese encuentro (el narrador-protagonista le cuenta al lector su vida de casto antes de conocer a Marie, y al conocerla, al oírla por unas pocas horas, ella le cuenta al narrador su vida antes de conocerlo), pero no lo que pasó después.
Lo que pasó después lo cuenta otro narrador, cómplice del lector y amigo del protagonista. Pero lo que cuenta no es tan exacto ni tan creíble, o al menos, no irrefutable. Es un rumor, sugiere este nuevo narrador, un chisme que escuchó y que lo comparte para terminar la historia.
Si uno quisiera valorar este relato desde los parámetros de la posmodernidad y lo fragmentario, posiblemente encontraría varios elementos afines. Si quisiera hacerlo desde el romanticismo, aquí hay un ejemplo que anticipa su crisis.
Yo prefiero verlo como un antecedente tierno (en todas las acepciones posibles de tierno) de la película «Before Sunrise» (1995). Encaja en ese ritmo, en esa estética, en ese amor.
Incluso, cuando todo termina, cuando el chico y la chica se separan, y el amor aún enrarece el aire, incluso ahí, encaja en el desconsuelo.
Dice el protagonista: «En el pasado, antes de Marie, mi hastío poseía algo hermoso, algo sublime. Pero ahora resulta estúpido, es el tedio de alguien ebrio de mal aguardiente, el sopor de un hombre borracho perdido».
-
Léanla con una copa de champagne rosé 🥂 y escuchando, entre descanso y descanso, a todo volumen, «Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now» de Starship. 🎶 En serio, combina nuy bien.
✌🏽
February 29, 2016
Pet zvezdica zbog Floberovog stila i pronalaženja sebe skoro u svakoj rečenici priče.
Ovo je brutalna ispovest jednog mladića. Flober zaranja u svoje najdublje i najiskrenije predele svog srca i svoje ličnosti i o njima govori sasvim iskreno. Usled nemogućnosti da pronađe ljubav "dostojnu sebe samog" on luta svetom i u svemu nalazi privremen mir iz kojeg kasnije proizlaze dosada i očaj.
Uporedo sa svojim lutanjima Flober nailazi na Mariju, svoju prvu ljubavnicu, koja poput njega ne uspeva da pronađe čoveka kojeg bi mogla voleti svim svojim srcem.
Ovo je brutalna ispovest jednog mladića. Flober zaranja u svoje najdublje i najiskrenije predele svog srca i svoje ličnosti i o njima govori sasvim iskreno. Usled nemogućnosti da pronađe ljubav "dostojnu sebe samog" on luta svetom i u svemu nalazi privremen mir iz kojeg kasnije proizlaze dosada i očaj.
Uporedo sa svojim lutanjima Flober nailazi na Mariju, svoju prvu ljubavnicu, koja poput njega ne uspeva da pronađe čoveka kojeg bi mogla voleti svim svojim srcem.
April 8, 2019
An early work of Flaubert, an author, I must be honest, I have never read before, and a work that might not necessarily commend me to reading other works by him.
The premise will be simple and familiar to at least half of you:
Late-blooming adolescent broods over existence, likely writes bad poetry, reflects on death, and flings himself at random into cornfields.
Our L.B.A. visits a brothel and finally gets laid and everything is suddenly better.
Anyone with functioning genitalia (and maybe some who don't, let's not judge, people) knows about the thrash and thrush of those first liberating moments of discovered sexuality. However, Flaubert, in a kind of proto- bad afterschool special kind of way, limns this event with much hand-wringing and lofty sentiment that no teenager in their right mind actually experiences.
The premise will be simple and familiar to at least half of you:
Late-blooming adolescent broods over existence, likely writes bad poetry, reflects on death, and flings himself at random into cornfields.
Our L.B.A. visits a brothel and finally gets laid and everything is suddenly better.
Anyone with functioning genitalia (and maybe some who don't, let's not judge, people) knows about the thrash and thrush of those first liberating moments of discovered sexuality. However, Flaubert, in a kind of proto- bad afterschool special kind of way, limns this event with much hand-wringing and lofty sentiment that no teenager in their right mind actually experiences.
November 16, 2024
moj flobere prave reci kad proberes
December 2, 2018
El título de esta novela fue el que me decidió a leerla. Pensé que sería idóneo leerla en el mes de su nombre. Mis cosas... en fin... Esta novela corta es la primera escrita por el autor, que en vida se negó a su publicación aduciendo que no estaba a la altura para que viese la luz. El protagonista de esta obra nos relata su obsesión por amar y ser amado, y las tribulaciones que ello le conlleva. A mí no me ha gustado mucho, no he conectado con el personaje y sus sentimientos me han parecido superficiales y poco creibles. Creo que aunque está muy bien escrita, el autor tenía sus razones para no publicar este libro.
"Amo el otoño. Esta triste estación es apropiada para los recuerdos. Cuando los árboles pierden todas sus hojas, cuando el cielo crepuscular aún conserva ese tinte rojizo que dora la hierba marchita, resulta dulce ver cómo se apaga todo aquello que, poco antes, ardía en nuestro interior."
"Entre ayer y hoy me parece que haya una eternidad aterradora, cada día me siento más miserable que la vísperay, sin poder precisar qué es lo que he perdido, noto que me empobrezco, que cada hora que pasa me roba algo, y me asombro tan solo de tener todavía en el corazón espacio para el sufrimiento. Pero el corazón humano es inagotable para la tristeza: una o dos legrías bastan para colmarlo, mientras que en él pueden darse cita toda las miserias del mundo y vivir como invitadas."
"Amo el otoño. Esta triste estación es apropiada para los recuerdos. Cuando los árboles pierden todas sus hojas, cuando el cielo crepuscular aún conserva ese tinte rojizo que dora la hierba marchita, resulta dulce ver cómo se apaga todo aquello que, poco antes, ardía en nuestro interior."
"Entre ayer y hoy me parece que haya una eternidad aterradora, cada día me siento más miserable que la vísperay, sin poder precisar qué es lo que he perdido, noto que me empobrezco, que cada hora que pasa me roba algo, y me asombro tan solo de tener todavía en el corazón espacio para el sufrimiento. Pero el corazón humano es inagotable para la tristeza: una o dos legrías bastan para colmarlo, mientras que en él pueden darse cita toda las miserias del mundo y vivir como invitadas."
November 7, 2023
Jedna od onih knjiga koje se vole zauvek! ♥️
November 12, 2025
2.5 stars, I really would've loved it, without the unbearable amount of sexual descriptions of women on almost every page (just like every 19th-century novel). The writing style was soft and flows, the ideas this story holds are dear to me – isolation and unrequited love, other than that I was rather disappointed a lot by the misogynistic view in it.
November 8, 2019
Prva polovica knjige mi se jako svidjela, druga polovica baš i ne. Iz promišljanja o jeseni i raspoloženja jesenskoga pređemo u glupastu priču o mladom momku i prostitutki s kojom je kratko bio i nakon koje je izgubio ideale ljubavi (ali ne na način koji se očekuje kad pročitate moju rečenicu u osvrtu, pa nemojte prebrzo donositi zaključke). Dajem 4 zvjezdice zbog bogatstva stila i snažnog dojma do polovice knjige.
November 24, 2022
Entiendo que el autor no quisiera publicar este libro. Cuenta el tedio de un sobreexcitado y frustrado joven, muy joven, que proyecta sus fantasías e inseguridades en el personaje de una prostituta. romantizándola y sublimándola, que es tan irreal como la fantasía mediterránea y orientalista que le sigue. El aparentemente transgresor virtuosismo moral del final es insufrible.
February 22, 2021
"O,na kolika su me putovanja navele kutije od čaja."
Gistav Flober-Novembar
Čast da otvori čitalačku godinu pripada propuštenom obrazovanju 😁 Nekim čudom ovaj klasik nisam čitala.Ova knjiga ima sve anđelčiće 😇
😇 Od romantičara u dvadesetoj do realizma 15 godina kasnije,ima smisla. (To je period između Novembra i Gospođe Bovari).
😇Prvo delo nagoveštava zrelog Flobera.
😇Opisi prirode i romantičnog zanosa klize po ivici ali ih fenomenalan stil čvrsto drži da ne skliznu u patetiku.
😇Buđenje čula i mladalačka zbunjenost pred realnim svetom i sopstvenim reakcijama na isti-svi smo to doživeli.
😇Marijina priča je možda razlog što je delo objavljeno tek posthumno. Ako je zbog Eme Bovari bio tužen da vređa javni moral; zbog kurtizane koja za sebe tvrdi da je devica,vrlo uverljivom teorijom to i dokazuje- verovatno bi ga razapeli na sred Pariza.😂
😇Na kraju imamo fantastičan obrt,naracija iz prvog lica prelazi u treće,jer "sve su to zapisi mog mladog pa ludog prijatelja". Lukavo,lukavo...verovatno da spreči gore pomenuto razapinjanje na trgu. 👏
😇 Nisam baš ljubitelj romantičarskog pravca u literaturi,ali me je mladi narator uvukao u svoj svet,pozvao na ta putovanja kroz maštu sve do momenta kad se suočim sa ciničnim realistom na kraju romana,pa bih ipak da se vratim u ideale i ljubav kakvu spoznajemo u snovima i knjigama. Onda gurnem glavu u frižider,oladim malko,setim se Eme Bovari i spustim se na planetu Zemlju 😁🧘♀️
✒ocena🔟 Bila je ovo veoma zanimljiva vožnja🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎢🎢🎢
Gistav Flober-Novembar
Čast da otvori čitalačku godinu pripada propuštenom obrazovanju 😁 Nekim čudom ovaj klasik nisam čitala.Ova knjiga ima sve anđelčiće 😇
😇 Od romantičara u dvadesetoj do realizma 15 godina kasnije,ima smisla. (To je period između Novembra i Gospođe Bovari).
😇Prvo delo nagoveštava zrelog Flobera.
😇Opisi prirode i romantičnog zanosa klize po ivici ali ih fenomenalan stil čvrsto drži da ne skliznu u patetiku.
😇Buđenje čula i mladalačka zbunjenost pred realnim svetom i sopstvenim reakcijama na isti-svi smo to doživeli.
😇Marijina priča je možda razlog što je delo objavljeno tek posthumno. Ako je zbog Eme Bovari bio tužen da vređa javni moral; zbog kurtizane koja za sebe tvrdi da je devica,vrlo uverljivom teorijom to i dokazuje- verovatno bi ga razapeli na sred Pariza.😂
😇Na kraju imamo fantastičan obrt,naracija iz prvog lica prelazi u treće,jer "sve su to zapisi mog mladog pa ludog prijatelja". Lukavo,lukavo...verovatno da spreči gore pomenuto razapinjanje na trgu. 👏
😇 Nisam baš ljubitelj romantičarskog pravca u literaturi,ali me je mladi narator uvukao u svoj svet,pozvao na ta putovanja kroz maštu sve do momenta kad se suočim sa ciničnim realistom na kraju romana,pa bih ipak da se vratim u ideale i ljubav kakvu spoznajemo u snovima i knjigama. Onda gurnem glavu u frižider,oladim malko,setim se Eme Bovari i spustim se na planetu Zemlju 😁🧘♀️
✒ocena🔟 Bila je ovo veoma zanimljiva vožnja🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎢🎢🎢
April 13, 2020
It begins so well, with such a bleak, pessimistic maturity that I was shocked when I learned Flaubert was only 20 years old when he wrote this. About half way through, though, the youth of the writer becomes increasingly apparent. Really, it's a mess -- uneven in every way, but with incredibly strong, albeit isolated, moments, echoes of my own thoughts that I rarely find in literature.
March 17, 2015
'ljudsko srce je neiscrpno za tugu; jedna ili dve srece ispune ga potpuno, sve nevolje citavog covecanstva mogu tu da zakazu sastanak i da u njemu zive kao gosti'
November 30, 2023
ono što su mi jadi mladog vertera značili kao tinejdžerki, mi ova knjiga znači sad. savršeno opisuje večnu potrebu da volimo i da imamo koga da volimo❤️🩹. NEPREVAZIĐENA!!!
August 16, 2021
The Sufferings of Young Gustave
Review of the Estonian language translation published in paperback by Kultuurileht (2020) translated from the French language edition Gustave Flaubert, Oeuvres Completes Tome 1: Oeuvres De Jeunesse (2001) based on the first publication "Oeuvres de jeunesses inédites" (1910) of the previously unpublished manuscript (1842)
November is a novella length early work by Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) and December 12, 2021 will be the 200th Anniversary of his birth, so it is #GustaveFlaubert200 time. I've only ever previously read Madame Bovary in pre-Goodreads days, so this recent Estonian translation was an interesting curiosity to pick up.
November is full of the angst and the eagerness for love in early life but which then sinks into despair and a detachment from the world after a first romantic fulfillment. Although that sounds like it will be full of cliches, the writing is still very absorbing and I found myself quite swept along by it. I could see where the author would disavow it later, but it certainly captures that time of hope and longing that is felt in youth.
The Estonian translation read very well and the publication came with the typical care and attention to detail of the Loomingu Raamatukogu literary series. There are footnotes to explain various people and events that are relevant and an Afterword by the translator Leena Tomasberg provides biographical information and context. It was especially interesting to learn from the Afterword about the online archive of Gustave Flaubert's correspondence & other materials at https://flaubert.univ-rouen.fr/ from which Tomasberg drew upon* for snippets of Flaubert's later opinions about November.
Trivia and Links
The Loomingu Raamatukogu (The Creation Library) is a modestly priced Estonian literary journal which initially published weekly (from 1957 to 1994) and which now publishes 40 issues a year as of 1995. It is a great source for discovery as its relatively cheap prices (currently 3 to 5€ per issue) allow for access to a multitude of international writers in Estonian translation and of shorter works by Estonian authors themselves. These include poetry, theatre, essays, short stories, novellas and novels (the lengthier works are usually parceled out over several issues).
For a complete listing of all works issued to date by Loomingu Raamatukogu see Estonian Wikipedia at: https://et.wikipedia.org/wiki/Looming...
* Such as from https://flaubert.univ-rouen.fr/jet/pu...
Review of the Estonian language translation published in paperback by Kultuurileht (2020) translated from the French language edition Gustave Flaubert, Oeuvres Completes Tome 1: Oeuvres De Jeunesse (2001) based on the first publication "Oeuvres de jeunesses inédites" (1910) of the previously unpublished manuscript (1842)
Novembre is a novella by Gustave Flaubert written in 1842 and completed on 25 October 1842, never published during the author's lifetime; it was later published in the collection of his Oeuvres de jeunesses inédites (Unpublished Works of Youth), published in 1910. This partly autobiographical work, in which the author exalts the pathos of a young man's emotions, similar to the The Sufferings of Young Werther by Goethe, is today considered one of his first successes of his literary youth, although Flaubert denied it during his lifetime under the pejorative qualifier of "sentimental ratatouille" (correspondence with Louise Colet). - translated from French Wikipedia https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Novembr...
"I love autumn, this gloomy season is made for memories." Thus begins Gustave Flaubert's first novel, "November," which he completed in the fall of 1842 at the age of 21, but which did not see the light of day until after the author's death.
In this story with autobiographical elements, the reader can experience the emotional awakening of the young protagonist, his first joys of love and the boredom that gradually takes over his world. Maturation brings an awareness of time and its temporality, but erases the hope of receiving revelation through love. The author himself has said that he put an end to his youth with this work. - translation of the Estonian language synopsis
November is a novella length early work by Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) and December 12, 2021 will be the 200th Anniversary of his birth, so it is #GustaveFlaubert200 time. I've only ever previously read Madame Bovary in pre-Goodreads days, so this recent Estonian translation was an interesting curiosity to pick up.
November is full of the angst and the eagerness for love in early life but which then sinks into despair and a detachment from the world after a first romantic fulfillment. Although that sounds like it will be full of cliches, the writing is still very absorbing and I found myself quite swept along by it. I could see where the author would disavow it later, but it certainly captures that time of hope and longing that is felt in youth.
The Estonian translation read very well and the publication came with the typical care and attention to detail of the Loomingu Raamatukogu literary series. There are footnotes to explain various people and events that are relevant and an Afterword by the translator Leena Tomasberg provides biographical information and context. It was especially interesting to learn from the Afterword about the online archive of Gustave Flaubert's correspondence & other materials at https://flaubert.univ-rouen.fr/ from which Tomasberg drew upon* for snippets of Flaubert's later opinions about November.
Trivia and Links
The Loomingu Raamatukogu (The Creation Library) is a modestly priced Estonian literary journal which initially published weekly (from 1957 to 1994) and which now publishes 40 issues a year as of 1995. It is a great source for discovery as its relatively cheap prices (currently 3 to 5€ per issue) allow for access to a multitude of international writers in Estonian translation and of shorter works by Estonian authors themselves. These include poetry, theatre, essays, short stories, novellas and novels (the lengthier works are usually parceled out over several issues).
For a complete listing of all works issued to date by Loomingu Raamatukogu see Estonian Wikipedia at: https://et.wikipedia.org/wiki/Looming...
* Such as from https://flaubert.univ-rouen.fr/jet/pu...
Si tu as bien écouté Novembre tu as dû deviner mille choses indisables qui expliquent peut-être ce que je suis. Mais cet âge-là est passé. Cette œuvre a été la clôture de ma jeunesse. Ce qui m’en reste est une peu de chose mais tient ferme. - Flaubert à Louise Colet 2 XII 1846
If you paid careful attention to November, you must have guessed a thousand indisputable things that perhaps explain who I am. But that time is past. This work was the end of my youth. What remains of it in me is only a little bit that still holds firm. - Flaubert to Louise Colet, 2 XII 1846
June 7, 2017
Everywhere it is said that Madame Bovary is Flaubert's first novel. This book is 15 years earlier than Bovary. It is fiction, but doesn't quite conform to the notion of a novel. It was written when Flaubert was just 20 years old, but is written from the perspective of an old man who remembers his youth. Four pages in, he begins to recount his thoughts when attending the circus.
I'm glad I read this. I have some perspective on this author I didn't have before reading it. However, I think I wouldn't attempt it again, even if it is just 100 pages.
Those were the first women I ever loved. My mind would whip itself into a frenzy thinking about those strange-shaped thighs, clad in pink tights, and those supple arms, swathed in rings that the dancers would clash together behind their backs when they bent over backwards so far that the plumes of their turbans touched the ground. I was already trying to imagine what woman was like (we think of women at every age: while still children, we fondle with a naive sensuality the breasts of those grown-up girls kissing us and cuddling us in their arms; at the age of ten, we dream of love, at fifteen, love comes along; at sixty, it is still with us, and if dead men in their tombs have any thought in their heads, it is how to make their way underground to the nearby grave, lift the shroud of the dear departed woman, and mingle with her in her sleep); thus, woman was an alluring mystery for me, one that troubled my poor childish head.This is an odd little book. The GR description is quite accurate, but I'm afraid it makes it sound as if there is more story than actually exists. Flaubert's genius is already apparent, but he had not yet learned how to structure his story. In this, he also didn't quite have a story, but presents rambling thoughts.
I'm glad I read this. I have some perspective on this author I didn't have before reading it. However, I think I wouldn't attempt it again, even if it is just 100 pages.
November 10, 2024
Prijatan i na kraju ipak blago razočaravajuć susret sa Floberovom melanholičnom ispovešću. U prvi mah sam pomislio da sam konačno našao knjigu koja u potpunosti odgovara mom senzibilitetu. I zaista, kroz Floberove reči se nalazim iznova i iznova. Ali, način na koji je drugi deo romana izveden me je ostavio donekle ravnodušnim.
Početak knjige je dnevnik razmišljanja jednog neispunjenog mladića koji je iz sveg srca žudio za ljubavlju i dubokim osećanjima - koji je u svemu oko sebe tražio inspiraciju i ispunjenje i izbavljenje iz košmara kroz koji prolazi. U drugom delu slušamo priču kurtizane koju junak upoznaje i saznajemo o njenoj nesrećnoj sudbini.
Prelep stil, divna razmišljanja, nedovoljno razrađena ideja.
3.75/5
"Kako je sve to daleko! Da li sam živeo u to doba? Jesam li to zaista bio ja? Jesam li ovo sada ja? Čitav ponor odjednom odvaja svaki pojedini trenutak moga života od ostalih, između juče i danas postoji za mene večnost koja me užasava, svakoga dana mi se čini da sam jadniji nego što sam bio pre toga, lepo osećam kako osiromašujem i kako mi čas koji nastupa odnosi nešto, samo se čudim da u mome srcu još ima mesta za patnju; ali ljudsko srce je neiscrpno za tugu: jedna ili dve sreće ispune ga potpuno, sve nevolje čitavog čovečanstva mogu tu da zakažu sastanak i da u njemu žive kao gosti."
Početak knjige je dnevnik razmišljanja jednog neispunjenog mladića koji je iz sveg srca žudio za ljubavlju i dubokim osećanjima - koji je u svemu oko sebe tražio inspiraciju i ispunjenje i izbavljenje iz košmara kroz koji prolazi. U drugom delu slušamo priču kurtizane koju junak upoznaje i saznajemo o njenoj nesrećnoj sudbini.
Prelep stil, divna razmišljanja, nedovoljno razrađena ideja.
3.75/5
"Kako je sve to daleko! Da li sam živeo u to doba? Jesam li to zaista bio ja? Jesam li ovo sada ja? Čitav ponor odjednom odvaja svaki pojedini trenutak moga života od ostalih, između juče i danas postoji za mene večnost koja me užasava, svakoga dana mi se čini da sam jadniji nego što sam bio pre toga, lepo osećam kako osiromašujem i kako mi čas koji nastupa odnosi nešto, samo se čudim da u mome srcu još ima mesta za patnju; ali ljudsko srce je neiscrpno za tugu: jedna ili dve sreće ispune ga potpuno, sve nevolje čitavog čovečanstva mogu tu da zakažu sastanak i da u njemu žive kao gosti."
May 15, 2021
Uma antologia de 3 contos, editados pela Cotovia, maravilhosos. Autêntica poesia em prosa!
February 29, 2024
„Ich träumte von den Schmerzen der Dichter, ich weinte mit ihnen ihre schönsten Tränen, ich empfand sie nach bis zum Herzensgrunde, sie ergriffen, zerrissen mich, und zuweilen war mir, als machte mich der Enthusiasmus, den sie mir einflößten, zu ihresgleichen, als erhöbe er mich bis zu ihnen.“ (S. 22)
Das vergangene Zitat verdeutlich, wie der Erzähler auf den Leser wirkt: als lebe er in einer anderen Welt – in einer Welt, in der Ideale gewissermaßen sein Leben vollkommen einnehmen.
Er gesteht sich jedoch ein, dass er nichts mit den Helden der Romane gemein habe; vielmehr sei er „irgendein Mensch, der lebt, ißt, trinkt, schläft, weint, lacht, sich in sich verschließt, und, wohin er auch geht, in seinem Innern stets die nämlichen abgestorbenen Hoffnungen wiederfindet, die, kaum erblüht, schon verdorren, den nämlichen Schutt des Verfalls, die nämlichen unerforschten, fürchterlichen, langweiligen Tiefen“ (S. 27 f.).
Zum Text an sich muss als erstes der unfassbar schöne Schreibstil Flauberts erwähnt werden, der mich immer wieder verzaubert – dieser allein sollte schon genügen, um der kurzen Erzählung eine Chance zu geben.
Des Weiteren fand ich den Erzähler und seine Gedanken bewegend. Eine sehr schöne Lektüre über einen Mann, der über sein Leben reflektiert.
Das vergangene Zitat verdeutlich, wie der Erzähler auf den Leser wirkt: als lebe er in einer anderen Welt – in einer Welt, in der Ideale gewissermaßen sein Leben vollkommen einnehmen.
Er gesteht sich jedoch ein, dass er nichts mit den Helden der Romane gemein habe; vielmehr sei er „irgendein Mensch, der lebt, ißt, trinkt, schläft, weint, lacht, sich in sich verschließt, und, wohin er auch geht, in seinem Innern stets die nämlichen abgestorbenen Hoffnungen wiederfindet, die, kaum erblüht, schon verdorren, den nämlichen Schutt des Verfalls, die nämlichen unerforschten, fürchterlichen, langweiligen Tiefen“ (S. 27 f.).
Zum Text an sich muss als erstes der unfassbar schöne Schreibstil Flauberts erwähnt werden, der mich immer wieder verzaubert – dieser allein sollte schon genügen, um der kurzen Erzählung eine Chance zu geben.
Des Weiteren fand ich den Erzähler und seine Gedanken bewegend. Eine sehr schöne Lektüre über einen Mann, der über sein Leben reflektiert.
July 27, 2021
Htedoh da napišem: neće se ovo dopasti baš svakome, ali će ljubitelji umeti da uživaju. A onda me zaustavi očiglednost. Ništa se ne dopada baš svakome, a floberoljupci su miljama daleko od oznake ''svako''. Ovo je Floberovo mladalačko delo, za njegovog života nije objavljeno. Nije teško pogoditi zašto: romanče je u neobičnom raskoraku, sadržinski neprihvatljivo za svoje, a staromodno za neko kasnije vreme. Ne preporučujem ga ubrzanom modernom čitaocu. Malo je događaja. Akciju guta obilje misli i još više osećanja. Likovi su složeni, krasi ih suptilnost koju vredi makar preko knjige upoznati. A sve je vođeno duhom tako slobodnim da bi mu bilo tesno i danas, unutar naših konvencija.
November 30, 2016
Opis doživljaja sveta i ljubavi je divan i skoro se savršeno slaže sa mojim doživljajem. Prelepo.
Kasnije se ne pronalazim toliko...
"Rekao sam vam da sam voleo sunce; onih dana kada sija, u mojoj je duši još do nedavno bilo nečeg od one vedrine blistavih horizonata i nebeskih visina."
"O, na kolika su me putovanja navele kutije od čaja."
Kasnije se ne pronalazim toliko...
"Rekao sam vam da sam voleo sunce; onih dana kada sija, u mojoj je duši još do nedavno bilo nečeg od one vedrine blistavih horizonata i nebeskih visina."
"O, na kolika su me putovanja navele kutije od čaja."
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November 18, 2024Väga nooruslik, lausa naiivne. Arusaadav miks Flaubert ise mainis, et pani teosega punkti oma noorusele.
“Sest mälestused on magusad , olgu nad siis kurvad või rõõmsad”
“Sest mälestused on magusad , olgu nad siis kurvad või rõõmsad”
September 30, 2023
Ühelt poolt oli tegemist lihtsalt ühe noore mehe mõtisklusega. Teisalt oli selles aga kogu maailm oma võlus ja valus. Selline mõtisklev kulgemine, mille oluliseks osaks oli armastuse otsimine ja vajamine. Ja seda läbi väga erinevate värvingute. Veider oli, et 181 aastat tagasi kirjutatud noore mehe otsingud kõlasid kuidagi väga tänapäevaselt ja kõnetasid mind väga. Äkki lihtsalt oli minu enda jaoks aeg ja meeleolu õige.
Pikemalt kirjutan blogis: https://midaheliluges.blogspot.com/20...
Pikemalt kirjutan blogis: https://midaheliluges.blogspot.com/20...
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