In language and tone, I find Andre Gide’s The Immoralist reminding me much of the work of J.M. Coetzee, specifically Disgrace. Both authors use a very pared. There is an oft-cited sentence in André Gide’s journal entry for March 28, , in which Rereading Gide’s The Immoralist () recently that is indeed how I. Gide, Andre: The Immoralist (new tr by Richard Howard).
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As if on purpose to convince me of this, in case I had doubted it, it had been made to break the front of a small cart and had cut its hocks in doing so.
The gids paddling in the puddles round the edges amused themselves with catching gleaming hand- fuls of small fry, which they flung into pails of clear water. How long did we stay there? Charles had tied the colt with a rope a few yards long to a stake firmly planted in the ground. The message of the immorapist is that all of us have, whether as personal as homosexuality or not, some secrets or maybe just something that we are not very proud of.
I am neither sad nor cheerful; the air here fills one with a kind of vague excitement and induces a state as far removed from cheerfulness as it is from sorrow; perhaps it is happiness.
But I was more astonished, more bewildered than amused, and what pleased me most was Mar- celine’s delight. Either, neither, or both?
When Bachir comes tomorrow, he will be able to interpret. This is a strange tale, almost a parable. Perhaps my fatigue added to my feeling of tedium. One can- not both be sincere and seem so. I am doing nothing — just looking at her. My nose might perhaps have been bleeding. I should never have done so alone; but Charles suggested saddling another of the farm horses for himself, and the pleasure of accompanying him proved irresistible.
I was always either too hot or too cold; I put on a ridiculous number of clothes, and only stopped shivering when I began to perspire; then, directly I took anything off, I shivered as soon as I stopped perspiring. A kind of pact was concluded between us four — at the first summons of any one of us the other three were to hasten. At last Bachir seemed defeated and ex- plained that his mother wanted him that morning; he handed me my shawl sadly and I was obliged to go off by myself.
To attempt to understand a book as a social object is to attempt to reconstruct the habitus of the reader s to whom it might have been or might still be addressed. One of those friends solicits job search assistance for Michel by including in a letter to Monsieur D.
The existential thought is the basis of Existentialist literature as Sartre used to maintain- man defines his life himself and must take responsibility to live his life accordingly. This post-colonialist discussion of The Immoralist situates it within the discourses of Africanism and Orientalism.
I could not sleep that night, so excited was I by the vision of my future virtues. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Not religious fervered, morally attributed fear, but intellectual.
The Immoralist – Wikipedia
Mercure de France Anndre, Alfred A. In order to do this, the pond had first to be drained, a thing that had not been done for fifteen years. I am concerned about reading an acclaimed book in a bad edition Michel ends up alone in dark Africa leading a debauched life. I ended by despising the learning that had at first been my pride; the studies that up to then had been my whole life now seemed to me to have a mere accidental and conventional connection with myself.
In reality, I did not think at all; I never questioned myself; a happy fatalism guided me.
His appreciation for youths turns to taboo encounters of the most predatory kind. Wood-pigeons went flying into them as we came up. I smile now at all the honors that were paid me.
The Immoralist by Andre Gide
Bachir followed, chattering; immorwlist faithful and as ob- sequious as a dog. The mornings of the last fine days are the freshest, the most limpid of all. Nov 22, Paul Bryant rated it it was ok Shelves: My fingers were covered with it. I felt the ground hard beneath me; the waving grass brushed me.
Your brother was waiting for me at the solicitor’s, and after the solici- tor’s, he insisted on sticking to me; I had to see the upholsterer with him; he was really a nuisance at the cabinet-maker’s and I only got rid of gid at Gaston’s; I had lunch in the neighborhood with Philip and then Ander met Louis at a cafe and went with him to Theodore’s absurd lecture, and paid him compliments when it was over; then, in order to get out of his invitation for Sunday, I had wndre go with him to Arthur’s; then to a water-color exhibition with Arthur; then left cards on Albertine and Julie.
I mean that it kept me incessantly occupied with Marceline. Perhaps it was to its novelty that our wedding night owed its grace.
Reading group: A slap in the face from André Gide’s The Immoralist | Books | The Guardian
She in her turn looked fixedly at me; then, very tenderly, smiled. Once in France, Michel meets frustrations. I ijmoralist the whole of my will indeed, in strengthening and bronzing my body.
Or may be not even that has changed us? OW is not Mephistopheles.
It all rather irri- tated me and my feeling of embarrassment returned. I hoped some other boy would come along and relieve me of my bur- den.
The wind was anndre blowing, but less violently than the night before. The sun-warmed harsh- ness of the recks, the air’s abundance, the scents, the limpidity, all filled me with the heavenly de- light of living, and with such contentment that there seemed to dwell in me nothing but a dancing joy; memories and regrets, hope and desire, future and past were alike silent; I was conscious of noth- ing in life but what the andrd brought, but what the moment carried away.