This novel has everything: political intrigue, the psychological detail of detective work, the ambiguity of love and romance; it's a comedy of manners, but also a saga of helplessness and tragedy, incisive social commentary. Published in 1830, The Red and The Black, is timeless: its relevance to contemporary Westernized or Americanized, bureaucratic, and capitalist-developed nations is both a condemnation and a triumph.
The Red and the Black first caught my attention 25 years ago in January 1983; a stack of copies were set out on a table in the Tattered Cover Bookshop, Denver (then on 1st Avenue in the Cherry Creek area). At that time, the Penguin edition was a new translation to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the birth of the author, Henri-Marie Beyle, January 23, 1783. I don't know how or why I decided to buy a copy; maybe it had something to do with the brief review on the back cover, which was perhaps then as it is now: "Handsome, ambitious Julien Sorel is determined to rise above his humble provincial origins." Maybe I saw something of Julien in myself, or maybe like Mathilde de la Mole, I was looking for a life outside the script dictated by parents and society, or trying to find a world beyond materialism and utilitarianism, something inspirational and possibly Romantic. It was with this novel that I first realized that a writer could communicate intimately across centuries; I fell in love with Stendhal. I wanted to know about his life. He wrote with integrity; he wrote what he knew to be true about life, and he did not let the marketplace dictate what he should write. Beyle was a human being first, then a writer.
In January 1983, as now in January 2008, reading The Red and the Black, I am astounded with the author's ability to move smoothly from the character's interior thoughts into action or landscape while encompassing his characters in their political/social matrix. Whether in a high-society drawing room or in the stillness of night, Stendhal gave his work movement, dynamism. There is something uncanny about the author's ability to draw characters like Madame de Renal and her husband, a small-town merchant, politician, religious hypocrite. It is the Renals of the world who have the power to destroy the Romantically inspired Juliens and Mathildes, and yet a market-driven nation doesn't seem to function without the Renals. An unusual but appropriate companion reading to Stendhal's work might be Tocqueville's Democracy in America; volume one published in 1835.
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