Bovarino

So I decided to purchase the Norton Critical Edition of Madame Bovary this weekend.  I chose specifically this edition because the translator is Karl Marx’s daughter.  Interesting considering Flaubert was touching on themes like materialism and Capitalism and the Bourgeoisie. And my favorite - the malcontented bourgeoise dreaming of a life more on the lines of passion, elegance and aristocracy rather than her dull sullen life at the hands of a clingy sub-par doctor.

While I do not read novels in the hopes that some passionate character will leap out of the pages to whisk me away (and Woody Allen actually entered the pages).  I do understand her desire to be wild.

In my times of sobriety I do not feel bored, unsatisfied, or Bovaresque.  But, I must say I miss some of the feelings.  I know this sounds weak, lame, and illusiary.  I will give one example:

Yesterday was an atrocious stormy day. It was snowy, freezing, slushy, rainy, gray, and wet.  After a 4 hour day of shopping my girlfriend and I went to a neighborhood bar/grill and sat down with the snowy football game, soup in hands, and folks with big sweaters seated with tempting ales and irish coffees.  I ordered my O’douls with passivity and staring at my friend’s wine with envy.  It’s not that I NEED NEED NEED booze. I just like it on cold days when I’m worn out, wanting some relaxation and laughter.  Normally my relaxing consists of worry, nervous laughter, and high neurosis. For just a bit I wanted to feel care-free.

 I didn’t read about this in any novels like Emma B.  I just sort of feel it, little ol’ me.

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