14 October 2006

7 *sigh*



i love france, marie, and swashbuckling. thus, am rather ashamed to admit it took me twenty-five years to discover a french novel about swashbucklers rescuing marie.

for weeks i've wanted to articulate the terrible beauty that is alexandre dumas' the knight of maison-rouge, but there are no words. so i loaned it to the bombshell in the hope that she would be able to express it. the damn words failed her as well. we were reduced to swapping emails of *sigh* and oh! the lovely.

KMR is the literary equivalent of Our Gum. try it. it will blow you away. but unlike Our Gum, its charms are subtle. this is not the greatest novel in the world. there's some plodding. some really, alexandre, where are we going here? moments. and since it involves the french revolution and miss marie, there's a nagging sense that the majority of the characters are going to lose their heads. but the final pages. The Final Pages.

the first time a book made me cry was the third grade. sweet valley high #40, ON THE EDGE. regina (the deaf one, no less) got mad at her jock boyfriend, went to a crazy party, took a line of cocaine and died. at sweet valley high, we had battled steroid addiction with regina's jock boyfriend and covered reckless partying with jessica wakefield, but no one had died. the moral "deaf girls gone wild wind up dead" did not escape me. it was shocking. nightmarish. i wept for three days.

i can't remember the last time a novel has affected me quite so much as #40. where i put it down and was left in a funk by fictional characters. biography bowls me over almost without fail, and KMR is historical fiction so perhaps the history lent it some added emotional thrust. but whatever it was, KMR is the new #40.

regina died in a coked-out haze of juvenile prose that had me sobbing about the unfairness of mortality. KMR left me wide awake, repeatedly turning on the light, wiping away the tears, and taking in the terrible beauty again. reading them again. The Final Pages. words- i have none.

7 comments:

nick said...

i've always wanted an in with some kickass french literature. perhaps you've given it to me... or should i say moi!

oline said...

aside from a brief fling with colette, my adventures in kickass franch lit are pretty much limited to dumas. but if you're looking to be swashbuckled, i can totally hook you up. (there's a FILTHY sentence pour vous!)

nick said...

i can think of no one else i'd rather have swashbuckle me - one pervy remark deserves another.

oline said...

pervies in jammies, obviously.

nick said...

au contraire!! i was not in my jammies... which probably makes it even pervier.

Bombsy said...

Oh! Oh! I am working up a blogparison between KMR and that greatest of Scottish loves stories, Lorna Doone. I will not fail our Genevieve, my Cupcake!

oline said...

yay! and i have to admit all i can think of when you say lorna doone is the shortbread cookies they used to pass out on northwest flights- before northwest got poor and stopped even serving drinks.