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Serge Mouret, the younger son of Francois Mouret (see La Conquete de Plassans), was ordained to the priesthood and appointed Cure of Les Artaud, a squalid village in Provence, to whose degenerate inhabitants he ministered with small encouragement. He had inherited the family taint of the Rougon-Macquarts, which in him took the same form as in the case of his mother-a morbid religious enthusiasm bordering on hysteria. Brain fever followed, and bodily recovery left the priest without a mental past. Dr. Pascal Rougon, his uncle, hoping to save his reason, removed him from his accustomed surroundings and left him at the Paradou, the neglected demesne of a ruined mansion-house near Les Artaud, where he was nursed by Albine, niece of the caretaker. The Abb fell in love with Albine, and, oblivious of his vows, broke them... (J. G. Patterson)… (more)
User reviews
This novel was very different from the other Rougon-Macquart novels I have read. Serge's stay with Albine is surreal. The gardens they explore are impossibly beautiful, go on forever, and seemingly contain every variety of flower, bush and tree known to man. (And Zola describes them for page after page.) Once in the gardens, there is no way out, although Serge and Albine can return to the pavillion in which they are staying.
This was a worthwhile read, but as I said it seems to be something of an anomaly. I found it to be such a contrast to the absolute realism of the other Zola novels.
So far, this fifth book in the series is my least favourite. The theme of religion and of Catholic rites is one that doesn't particularly interest me, and I knew before reading the novel that there would be extensive descriptions of those rites and of Serge's battle with temptation. The romantic meanderings of the two young people in what seems like the Garden of Eden (Zola obviously intended to make that comparison by naming the place Le Paradou, a name so close to Paradis, or Paradise) was probably my favourite part, but there were many sections where the only thing keeping me going was the goal I've set myself of reading the whole series. The ending was predictable to a certain degree, though in all fairness, it was probably considered original in Zola's time. I would definitely NOT recommend to make this your first book by Zola, unless you happen to have a great interest in the themes explored here.
Too much romance. Too much religion. Too much of a cliché.
Summary: young priest loves his job and parish, mostly. Gets very sick, bad fever. Is sent to to convalesce and recover nearby, at the
If you thought the agricultural and ecclesiastical sound-track was too loud in Part One, you will be absolutely deafened by the botanical and zoological crescendos of Part Two, as our two innocents roam through the garden mystically drawn to One Particular Tree, with inevitable results that work themselves out to a tragic conclusion in the even louder Part Three. This is Tristan und Isolde with the dial turned up to eleven. At least. Even Wagner wasn't bold enough to attempt Death by Sensory Overload, but for Zola it's all in a day's work...
It's surprisingly hard to pin down what's going on here, partly because Zola for once chooses to blur the distinctions between realism, symbolism and the dream-life of his characters, and partly because it's not the simple struggle between nature and religious faith that it at first appears. Serge and Albine both seem to be doomed to destruction because their lives revolve around a romantic belief in some ideal beyond the physical world - Albine in her love for Serge, Serge in his Catholic faith; only the cynical (Frère Archangios and the peasants) and the truly naive (Serge's "simple" sister Désirée) are able to shrug off the tragedy and keep following the cycle of nature. But we also see the terrible way Serge's seminary training helps to push him into hypocrisy whilst Albine follows her convictions to their logical conclusion - for Zola there's definitely a fundamental difference between priests and wood-nymphs, and it's not to the advantage of the priests.
The book does have its realistic interests as well, of course - there are some fascinating and plausible little glimpses into what real parish life must have been like in the backwoods of Provence in the mid-19th century. And lots of animal and plant life if you happen to have a botanical dictionary to hand. But not really one of the most rewarding Zolas - the unrelentingly high emotional pitch makes it a very trying book to read.
Having said that, if you have the patience required for Zola's extended literary symphonies, there's some fantastic writing, even if some of it (the rhapsodies on Mouret's relationship with Christianity especially) feels like it would have been stronger in theory than practice.
Interested to see what themes I can tie from this book to later volumes in the series.