At once a classic of travel literature and a penetrating portrait of a “sensibility on tour,” Flaubert in Egypt wonderfully captures the young writer’s impressions during his 1849 voyages. Using diaries, letters, travel notes, and the evidence of Flaubert’s traveling companion, Maxime Du Camp, Francis Steegmuller reconstructs his journey through the bazaars and brothels of Cairo and down the Nile to the Red Sea.
Gustave 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.
Francis Steegmuller (translator and editor), probably doesn't take enough credit for this book - and Flaubert probably too much. In 1949/50 Gustave Flaubert (at the time 27) and Maxime Du Camp (a little younger, I think) made their grand tour of Egypt, before heading on to Beirut, Palestine, Syria, Turkey, Greece and Italy. Flaubert kept a diary, which he embelished a number of years later, filling on some detail. He also writes letters, mostly to his mother, but also to a friend, Louis Bouilhet. From these, and from Du Camp's book 'Le Nil, Egypte et Nubie' and his 'Notes de voyage', Steegmuller pulls together a narrative and a commentary for this trip.
Flaubert is a strange fellow. At times despondent, offering few words per day, other times expounding about a place or a person. In his diary, and in letters to his friend, he is (hilariously) crass and talks of his times with the many prostitutes he engages, even a baths attendant boy (when in Rome...). I found it a very entertaining read. It offers a number of factors of interest / amusement:
It has historical context. In 1849/50 many of the Egyptian sites were more readily accessible to tourists, but also more inaccessible as they had not be excavated properly - for example Abu Simbel, which during their visit, is under many metres of sand, buried up to the chin. Some of the descriptions were great for comparison to my travels there (about 1995).
Flaubert also offers a few pearls of wisdom - When one does something, one must do it wholly and well. Those bastard existences where you sell suet all day and write poetry at night are made for mediocre minds – like those horses that are equally good for saddle and carriage, the worst kind, that can neither jump a ditch nor pull a plow.
A thirdly, his ridiculous and hilarious writing: This is indeed a funny country. Yesterday, for example, we were in a cafe which is one of the best in Cairo, and there were, at the same time as ourselves, inside, a donkey shitting, and a gentleman who was pissing in a corner. No one finds that odd; no one says anything.
and ....A week ago I saw a monkey in the street jump on a donkey and try to jack him off - the donkey brayed and kicked, the monkey's owner shouted, the monkey itself squealed - apart from two or three children who laughed and me who found it very funny, no one paid any attention. When I described this to M. Belin, the secretary at the consulate, he told me of seeing an ostrich trying to violate a donkey. Max himself jacked off the other day in a deserted section among some ruins and said it was very good. Enough lubricities.
Hilarious. Albeit still somewhat disjointed. Probably 3.5 stars, rounded up to 4.
“Women of Algiers” is one of my favorite paintings, but there is no denying that it depicts harem as nothing more than a bordello. Same with Flaubert: for him, Egypt is nothing more than a bordello. The dude never married, and he loved visiting prostitutes. Here are his words:
“I love prostitution, and for itself, too, quite apart from its carnal aspects. My heart begins to pound every time I see one of those women in low-cut dresses walking under the lamplight in the rain […]. The idea of prostitution is a meeting place of so many elements – lust, bitterness, complete absence of human contact [? color me confused], muscular frenzy, the clink of gold – that to peer into it deeply makes one reel. One learns so many things in a brothel, and feels such sadness, and dreams so longingly of love!…”
Fair enough. In Egypt, he screws people left and right, boys, girls, whoever is available. (Not sure about camels, but he mentions them so many times that I got suspicious.) He pays for it not only in gold, but in venereal diseases too, later on – which makes me wonder what happened to the people he slept with, before and after. It’s a quite frightful thought. You look at all those highly civilized folks from European countries – engineers, archaeologists, writers, photographers, reporters, intellectuals of all sorts, what have you – well-to-do white men, most of them – and see walking and talking biological hazard, whose levels of restraint, responsibility and compassion are nearing zero.
Such was the culture, such were the times, they were conditioned from the cradle to this sort of entitlement, yeah, I know, that’s right – they were. Still, in every era, every place, there were people of privilege, as well as common people, who thought differently and saw behind the importance of their own WANT. Sadly, Flaubert is not one of them.
“I buy the hair of two women, together with their hair-ornaments. The women being shorn weep, but their husbands, who do the shearing, make ten piastres per head. As we are about to leave, a man comes up and offers us another head of hair, which Max buys. This must have been distressing to the poor women, who seem to prize their hair greatly.”
You don’t say?…
He doesn’t give a crap about the ubiquitous slavery, either. Mentality of the times, white man’s burden, romanticism, or perhaps putting too big a strain on the conventional, not-too-brilliant intelligence?
“All these faces are calm, nothing irritated in their expression – brutes take these things [that’s slavery] as a matter of course.”
I probably wouldn't have enjoyed this book very much if I hadn't been here in Egypt. It really is just a collection of travel notes and observations, but when read in it's proper setting, it provides an interesting perspective on Egyptian culture and history. It's amazing how some things simply remain in this seemingly fast moving world. All the monuments and buildings described in this book are still here, and life in Egypt doesn't seem to have changed much since Flaubert made his journey.
1 🌟 À mes yeux, la qualité de la prose de Flaubert ne compensera jamais l’horreur du contenu de ce livre. Je suis consciente du contexte historique et social de l'époque - mais le regard pervers et colonial de Flaubert sur les hommes et femmes d’Égypte était juste insupportable à lire (ou dans mon cas, à écouter).
UGHHH. Sometimes you should never read something personal by an author because you're going to find out they're repugnant as human beings. Flaubert seems chipper and makes jokes about people being beaten, raped and otherwise trod upon. There is so much more that is wrong with this travelogue through Egypt, but I'd rather just leave it at that. The occasional nice turn of phrase or observation does not make up for all the terrible trash in this book.
منذ أمد بعيد لم أقرأ شيئا قبيحا و منفرا كوصف فلوبير عن مصر، قد جعلني أشعر بالغثيان و الألم، و اشمئزازي زاده تلذذه المريض بمظاهر الظلم و الشذوذ و القهر و الفقر و القبح
هي ليست المرة الأولى التي أقرأ فيها كتابا استشراقيا ذا نظرة متحاملة و مترفعة... لكن المنفر في هذا الكتاب هو طريقة الوصف الرومانسية لكل هذا البؤس... أعني تلذذه بالقبح "الشرقي" البعيد عنه... ذكرتني طريقة الوصف هذه بـ اسمي أحمر لباموق... و الشعور الشنيع الذي انتابني بعد قراءته حينها... أظن باموق قد انتهج هذا الأسلوب لأجل الصنعة، لأجل تمتيع كل فلوبير...0
(ثمة عنصر رائع لم أتوقع رؤيته هنا، الغروتسك Grotesque كل الأعمال الفكاهية القديمة من العبد المجلود، حتى تاجر الرقيق الفظ، و التاجر اللص - كل هذه هنا في غاية النضارة و الأصالة و الجمال الساحر) ص 58 (فيما يخص الراقصين، تصور وغدين في غاية البشاعة، لكنهما فاتنان في فسادهما، في نظراتهما الشزراء و حركاتهما الأنثوية...) ص97 (كان ذلك متعة عظيمة - يمارس الرجال المشاركون في مثل هذه المغامرات الآثمة فنونهم الوضيعة، كما يضع ذلك السيد فولتير، بجدارة فريدة)ص99
شتان بين روايته مدام بوفاري و هذا الكتاب القبيح...0
و لا أقصد في معرض حديثي عنه هكذا أن أجعل القراء يحجمون... فالكتاب من كلاسيكيات الكتب الاستشراقية... و هو يشكل جزءا من الذهنية الغربية عن الشرق بشكل أو بآخر... لذلك من المفيد الاطلاع عليه للمهتم في هذا المجال... الأمر الذي يدعو للتفكير أن فلوبير نفسه الذي كتب مدام بوفاري و حوكم على إثرها و التي تعتبر رواية ملائكية مقارنة بكتابه هذا لم ينتقده أحد على كتابه هذا... رغم أن المجتمع المتحفظ كان نفسه... لكن الفرق أن تلك الرغائب و المتع الشاذة تحدث عنها حاصلة "هناك" في الشرق... فلا مشكلة إذن، فهذه هي صورة الشرق و هذا هو مكانها... أما أن يتحدث عن خيانة في مجتمعه "هنا" فقد استحق عليه أن يحاكم لإفساده المجتمع...0 الغريب أن نفس السيناريو يتكرر في كل المجتمعات، أليس كذلك
دعوني أنقل لكم فقط ما كُتب على غلاف الكتاب "على أن فتنة الشرق... سرعان ما ظهرت في يومياته صورا حقيقة نقلها من الحياة اليومية للقاع المصري، إلى جانب أخرى فنتازية فبركتها مخيلة مريضة جائعة لكل ما هو إيروسي و شاذ... كتاب مثير، إنما لا مناص من قراءته بوعي و حذر"0
بالفعل الكتاب قبيح... و ما قصدت بالقبح اللغة أو الأسلوب، لا ما هذا قصدته... بل عنيت أن الكتاب قبيح بذاته و بتكريسه و تلذذه المريض بالقبح... و خصوصا أن الكتاب ليس رواية متخيلة و إنما مجموعة من رسائل شخصية لأصدقائه و معارفه... و لذلك لا أستطيع إلا أن أراه يعكس قبحا لدى كاتبه... و عذرا من كل محبي فلوبير...0
حقيقة أشعر بأن الكتاب آذاني و لا أستطيع أن أرى أي جمال أو فن في وصفه لمصر، لا أراه إلا يتكشف عن نفسية مريضة لمؤلفه...0
و لا شيء جميل في هذا الكتاب إلا غلافه...0
و بس ----
سألني أحد الزملاء سؤال مستعجبا: أن لماذا هذا الانشغال بما هو هو قبيح و تعشقه من قبل فلوبير؟ فأجبته:0 الأمر نوع من كسر المعتاد... سحر الغرائبية... شيء نقيض للأخلاقية الغربية، للانضباط، للقيم، للجمال، للمألوف... تغيير للنكهات...0 شخص اعتاد على الفاخر من الطعام طوال عمره... فإنه يشتهي أن يتذوق ما عند السوقة و يستمتع به... يعني كنوع من الترفيه الزائد... شريطة أن يكون بعيدا عنه لا جزءا منه... يعني مجرد استمتاع بالغير مألوف...0 و لذلك أسقط فلوبير شذوذه على الشرق... أسقط كل ما هو مناقض لما في الغرب... كان الأمر نوعا من التخفف... و طبعا الشرق هو المكان المناسب لهذا التخفف... فهو أرض المباحات و الشذوذات بكافة أشكالها... 0 فكيف لا يستمتع و هو يراها دون أن يكون جزءا منها... 0 أشبه بعرض المسوخ الذي كان الناس يأتون للتفرج عليهم... يستمتعون بالقبح دون أن يتورطوا فيه أو يكونوا جزءا منه... ��رافق هذه اللذة الشاذة شعور بالتفوق على هذا القبيح لأني لست إياه... أستمتع به و أنا لست إياه... هكذا هو حال الشرق... معرضة للعجائب بكافة أشكالها و شذوذاتها و قبحها...0 يقول سعيد كما ورد في المقدمة: [فالشرق يـُشـَاهد، لأن سلوكه الذي يقترب من البذاءة المسيئة (دون أن يصلها بالضبط) يصدر عن مخزون من الشذوذ اللانهائي؛ و الأوروبي الذي تطوف حساسيته في الشرق، هو مشاهد لا ينشبك أبدا أو يتورط، حيادي دائما، و على استعداد دائم لأمثلة جديدة مما يسميه وصف مصر "التلذذ الغريب"] و يذكر سعيد أن فلوبير ينتمي لتلك المجموعة الفكرية و الشعورية الرومانسية التي كانت صور الأمكنة الغريبة المدهشة و تنمية الأذواق المتلذذة بتعذيب الذات و الآخر "السادومازوشستيكية" تلهمها...0 و يتحدث سعيد عن فلوبير بأن ذوقه يتجه إلى المنحرف الشاذ، الذي كان كثيرا ما يتخذ شكلا هو مزيج من الحيوانية المتطرفة، بل حتى من الشرية البشعة. و أن فلوبير حين أتى الشرق أراد أن يعيش القصص الشرقية، أراد أن يعيش ما قرأه طوال عمره، أن يعيش الأساطير، أراد أن يحيي الشرق و يجعله المعجبة المثيرة بدل الروتين الممل المعروف... و لذلك نفخ فيه الروح بهذه الطريقة المقرفة و الشاذة، لأنها تناقض المعتاد و المألوف هناك في الغرب...0
إذن الشرق كان المكان الذي بإمكانك أن تحصل فيه على تجربة جنسية و شاذة و قبيحة لا تستطيع نيلها في أوروبا...0
و لذلك فهذا الكتاب وصف مصر فعلا صادم... صادم بتلذذه بكل ما هو قبيح و شاذ... و لو أن المكان الذي عرضت فيه الأمور لم يكن الشرق لكان صاحبه استحق أن يوسم بكونه مختلا نفسيا و مريضا... لكن طالما أن هذه الأمور حاصلة في الشرق... فذلك أمر طبيعي... لأن ذلك هو مكانها...0
Torno delusa e annoiata da questo viaggio in Egitto. Purtroppo Flaubert, che pure ha preso tantissimi appunti in quei mesi, non li ha successivamente rielaborati e approfonditi in un testo narrativo più articolato e non sono presenti, tranne in rare eccezioni, quelle considerazioni e riflessioni personali che tanto avevo apprezzato nel viaggio in Bretagna. Il tutto è rimasto allo stadio di appunti asciutti e aridi. Non so nemmeno perché mi sono incaponita per portarlo a termine, evidentemente speravo che qui e là migliorasse.
The interesting observations on life in Egypt in the 19th century don't make up for the repeated accounts of Flaubert's encounters with local prostitutes (including a fifteen year old, who if I understood the French correctly was also a victim of FGM), and his colonial attitude when describing the native people. Perhaps that's why it was free on Audible.
لماذا التقييم 4 نجوم لأن الكتاب عرفني كم هو حقير فلوبير أكد لي كم هم أوساخ المستعمرون .. وأكد لي صحة أغلب آراء إدوارد سعيد عن هؤلاء البشر المغاليين في الشهوة والمشهويهن فكريًا
3.5 stars Well, this certainly isn’t The Innocents Abroad! I was expecting a travelogue on par with Graham Greene’s Journey Without Maps (which I am also reading now), since Greene provides the blurb on the back. Instead, it was like Sade visits Cairo – an outrageous catalogue of vice and debauchery, interspaced with hilarious letters to his mother, in which Flaubert makes it sound like he’s on a chaste summer high school trip! He likely didn't intend for these diary entries and letters to be published, which explains the rather frank observations. This one isn’t for the fainthearted, but it sure makes for a memorable read. (I have to admit that halfway through I couldn’t wait to read the outraged reviews on Goodreads.)
Whitepower and colonization... Okay this is 1849, but seriously, add a warning to the book or something. This white european travels to Egypt like it's conquered land, fucks 15 yo teenagers with no remorse whatsoever, shoots at dogs, describes "niggers" and slavery as they are the most normal thing. No questioning. Describing the ass of a 12 year old, or the sex of a prostitute with the same neutral descriptive tone he uses for sand and trees. He has no interest in arabic culture, food or people. This was painful to listen to.
Read if you're interested in analyzing the representation of "non-Western" culture through the eyes of a white European male. The sex scenes are particularly illustrative (and nauseating).
A first person account of Egypt, written by a provincial Frenchman, whose descriptive settings and touristy escapades are well worth the read – if, that is, the reader’s puritanical instinct to gasp at his nighttime encounters is kept to a minimum.
I purchased this book after reading an essay by William Styron. Styron, himself, was no stranger to the sex scene, and his writing about Flaubert had me curious.
I’ve just finished it, and to the reviewers whose sensibilities are offended by the brothels, prostitutes and sexual acts of the author, please keep in mind the context. This was a long time ago, and the young man writing was clearly sowing his wild oats. Now, (spoiler) he did end up paying for it, taking mercury for the rather descriptive sores on his fifth appendage, what appeared to be syphilis.
Moving on to the majority of the content, there are thrilling narratives, romantic descriptions and engaging characters – his travel partner, Du Camp, of course, is included – which grab the mind’s eye and throws you back in time to an ancient, surreal Egypt. You will see the moon rising behind the pyramids. You will taste the dates and watermelon. You will feel the saddle of the camel and, even better, your heart will break for the acts of compassion and tragedy all along the way. The excellent writing stands on its own. Which compels me to now purchase and read Madame Bovary.
In Egypt Flaubert hoped to find and experience the decadent. Napoleon had been and gone when the young Flaubert arrived, planning on adventures notably sexual in nature. His letters home to his mother did not reveal his motivations, but they are here in his travel journals from this trip. The conceit that holds the story together as he moves along the Nile is the search for a courtesan named Kuchuk Hanim, a dancer and, its is implied, a sexually available and highly accomplished prostitute. I had to smile as I read -- Kuchuk Hanim is not a name, as Flaubert thought, but Turkish for "little woman." This book is of course an Orientalist fantasy, a mental evocation of a world of sexual freedom (for men) in the form of willing and easy women, drugs, and the sensuality of the East. He never really finds what he is looking for because, of course, it does not exist, and to be honest, he could have found all the decadence and sex he wanted in nineteenth-century Parisian salons. But Flaubert never wrote a bad sentence, and he invites you here into his dream world which tells you much more about Flaubert the man and writer than about Egypt.
This work is literally what Edward Said mentioned in Orientalism about the meaning of Orientalism and the different facets of Orient as portrayed by Orientalist.
It could be either one of this or could be overlapped between each other:
i. A way of coming to to terms with the Orient that is based on the Orient's special place in European Western experience. (pg. 1) ii. A style of thought based upon an ontological and epistemological distinction made between "the Orient" and (most of the time) "the Occident". (pg. 2) iii. A Western style for dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient. (pg. 3)
– Orientalism, Edward Said
Flaubert wrote his journals while travelling to Egypt around 9 months from October 1849 until July 1850 where he travels from Alexandria to Cairo until Luxor and Aswan. Here, he mentioned how “Europe” is the city of Alexandria (until the present day) and where he travels in Cairo including Kasr al-Ainy, Muhandisin, Giza and Bulak.
The way Flaubert dismissing a lot of pearls in Egypt, even denigrating some of it is really unforgivable.
Before becoming famous Flaubert traveled the length of the Nile keeping a journal. This was perhaps the time where he developed the realistic style that characterized the "first novel". The voyage is interesting because this was a time when slavery was common, the iconic tourist attractions in Egypt were often still mostly buried in sand and Flaubert liberally availed himself of the diseased flesh pots of what was then called The Orient. He wrote frankly of all of the above when he wasn't musing on his future.
Un pequeño recuento de las estadía de Flaubert en Egipto. Con descripciones vívidas e interesantes acerca de las costumbres y los lugares. Mas no aporta mucho sobre los qué y cómo de su obra, o siquiera cómo armaba los argumentos de sus novelas. Lo que sí se ve aquí, es un cuidado de la palabra y un uso de lenguaje como solo el buen Gustave Flaubert sabía utilizar.
Gracias, Gustave Flaubert, por dejar este pequeño testimonio de tu paso por tierras tan antiguas.
I read this 30 years ago and found it extraordinarily beautiful. Each sentence part of a beautifully planned mosaic. Of course I was young and "Orientalism" wasn't quite a thing yet. I'm reading the comments other readers made. Were I to read this now, I might not give it five stars but I am going to be true to the me who read this long ago. I don't remember my reactions to his bordello life, just the writing itself.
Una recopilación de cartas, en la que Flaubert con su maestría incomparable, describe paisajes, restos arquitectónicos, costumbres. Si bien, No es una descripción completa, sino que se trata más bien de unas pinceladas, permite tener detalles de la personalidad del autor, la devoción que profesa por su madre, el cariño con el que se trata a sus amigos. Muy fácil de leer, ideal para un viaje cortó.
Picked this book up prepared to be awestruck by the towering ruins of Egypt beautifully described by Flaubert's powerful, moving syntax and narration only to be met with non-stop stories of his whorings, STIs, rotting carcasses and tales of witnessing (and engagement in) human butchery. Still surprisingly a great, fascinating, entertaining read. Highly recommend it for a non-typical preparative read for an Egypt vacation.
It is sometimes difficult to imagine this fellow is responsible for some of the most impressive novels of western lit. Nothing much seems to point to his being either particularly observant or a devoted worker. Still travel literature of the era are fascinating for the perhaps unspoiled nature of the Egyptian antiquities being studied.
مقالات متفرقة، كتبها فلوبير على شكل يوميات إبان رحلته لمصر قبل 180 سنة! كما تضمنت رسائله فيها لأمه وأصدقائه، مجموعةً بين دفتي هذا الكتاب، وبترجمة لذيذة.
مصر التي أدهشت فلوبير وجعلته يعشقها عام 1850، هي نفسها مصر التي أدهشتني وعشقتها عندنا زرتها أعوام 2020 و 2022 و2023، بنيلها وهواءها وآثارها ومقاهيها وشوراعها ومكتباتها، والأهم بأهلها - بل بأهلي- النبلاء الأحباء إلى قلبي ونفسي.
The most "uncensored" and startlingly/amusingly frank historical "memoir" I've ever seen. Likely unpublishable before well into the 20th century.
The first half is fun and novel, the second half drags a bit as Flaubert loses interest in ruins. Recommended reading for anyone interested in an unvarnished peek into the social / sexual behaviours of the mid-19th century.
Cartas de viaje escritas como disparos sobre cocodrilos del Nilo. Sudadas anécdotas de narguiles, camellos, una barcaza semisalvaje. Se puede captar la magia diegética del gran narrador. De camisola blanca al sol. Fea la actitud. No se cansa de contarle a la madre que está tostado como pipa quemada.