"You know my situation, that character of mine which people call strange and unsociable, that heart which is out of tune with all the interests of others, which is solitary in the midst of society, yet which suffers from the solitude to which it is condemned."
This book is startling, because Constant is frightfully candid about the rise and collapse of a love affair. His psychological insights and vulnerable confessions must have truly unsettled people who knew him, especially those who knew Adolphe was a thinly disguised autobiography, and those who heard Constant real it aloud on numerous occasions. I won't quote any of the many romantic passages I marked, because future readers should privately marvel at the excerpts that resonate with them - the lines above and below are other observations I wanted to share, though. I'll only note I have William Gaddis to thank for this experience, as he nods to the book early in The Recognitions when Wyatt lends it to Otto ("Here. Take this. Keep it. Read it. It's a good novel.").
Five stars for Adolphe, three for The Red Notebook, a posthumously published account of Constant's wild adolescence.
I simply wish to state for the benefit of others, since I have now retired from the world, that it takes time to accustom one's self to mankind, fashioned as it is by self-interest, affectation, vanity, and fear. The astonishment of youth at the appearance of so artificial and labored a society denotes an unspoiled heart rather than a malicious mind.
I am not surprised that man needs a religion; what astonishes me is that he should ever think himself sufficiently strong or sufficiently secure against misfortune to dare reject one: his weakness should, I feel, dispose him to invoke them all; in the dark night which surrounds us, can we afford to reject a single gleam? In the midst of the stream which is bearing us away, is there a single branch to which we dare refuse to cling?