I know Mrs. Bovary

One

A century and a half has passed, and Madame Bovary is still suffering injustice. The "representative of middle-class women who have fallen by vanity" is roughly the usual assessment – it is not difficult to understand, and we either understand too deeply or superficially about fictional characters. Who has the time to penetrate the superficial meaning of time and the words, and to delve into the inner world of the characters who have no substance?

But this does not prevent the contrast between reality and fiction — because human nature is universal, it does not have much to do with evolution. In the article "Madame Bovary on the Street", Hong Huang said: "This kind of woman multiplied so much when GDP growth was very fast, and now many Chinese men are sleeping with Madame Bovary, or potentially Madame Bovary, around them." ”

The growing entertainment facilities of small towns, the restless petty bourgeois mood that pervades the area, and the convenience of connecting with the metropolis by transportation have made Bovary ladies mushroom after a rain - "Our current environment is almost a perfect breeding base for Madame Bovary." "Of course, some people say that this is an alternative retro, and I think it is better to say "resurrection" than retro. Unwilling to be lonely, Madame Bovary fell into a deep sleep, and when she woke up, she found that she had finally ushered in the era of her heart, so she projected her image into the world and evolved countless doppelgangers. They are no longer reserved, no longer careful to suppress their desires, and chase everything they want.

So every time you walk the streets of the metropolitan CBD, or occasionally wander the art district – it is said that almost every big city in China now has a place called the "art district", such as the grass field in Beijing, ersha Island in Guangzhou... It is common to see some fashionably dressed and tasteful celebrities coming and going, where do they come from? What are your hobbies and stories? Who are you in love with?

Two

Whether it was old or present, fictional or realistic, the Bovary ladies were not only innocent, but looked somewhat lovely. I am not the frivolous Leon, nor the cunning Rodolph, who "sincerely respects women who are famous or unfortunate", rather than sexistly mocking their brainlessness and impracticality. In fact, my affection for Madame Bovary came from both reason and fantasy, perhaps no different from their fantasies of a romantic life.

At a time when Madame Bovary was known as Emma, she possessed the qualities of innocence and innocence, "looking at you without any worries, with a look of innocence and boldness." Later, at the convent's boarding girls' school, she developed a love of flowers, music, romantic novels, and other beautiful things, and she dreamed of living in a bamboo house, longing for a love that would be like "a bird with rose-colored feathers, soaring freely in heaven." Later, she met the honest Doctor Bovary, thinking that she might be happy from now on, but unfortunately fell into a mediocre and dull quagmire. Her natural desire for freedom put her on the path of unruliness, and the bitter price paid for the chase was an unquenchable arsenic.

It seems to me that the evaluation of Madame Bovary by future generations is mostly based on the fallacious logic that "there must be something hateful about the poor", completely ignoring the good qualities she shows throughout the story: innocence, love of art and freedom, and courageous pursuit of love— all of which are erased by people with the tone of tragic endings.

I think of Du Shiniang, who was born more than 200 years earlier than Madame Bovary, who did not have the same desire to live an upper class life as the former, but only wanted to find a good family to live a dull life, as Mr. Hu Lancheng said: "May the years be quiet and the present world be stable." But the bravery of the two in their pursuit of love is very similar. In the end, it is also because of the non-people who drink and hate Huangquan. Their tragedy is not even because of the frivolity and untrustworthiness of men, but because their own qualities are ahead of that gray era.

In other words, they are all avant-garde women. Bovary ladies are the trendsetters of their own time, whether it is the era of women's weakness or today's era of equality, their rare qualities are waiting for men to recognize.

Three

I had the privilege of knowing a Madame Bovary. This story is not fictional, and if there are similarities, it is purely a confirmation of my point of view.

We met at an abstract art party. There was a light rain that evening, pouring everything very wet. On the small stage set up in the hall, a venerable British cannon is hoarsely singing classic love songs, and the dance floor is soon set off by a carnival heat wave, and the tide people are showing their skills. I drank local beer in the corner.

The "Madame Bovary" stood shyly in the corner of the bar, looking more than 30 years old, wearing black high heels, white leggings appeared to be more slender, the upper body was a thin light blue coat, reflecting the face very white, perhaps because of the makeup, I think her heart is more vivid - makeup is one of the magic that happens in the real world, maybe in half an hour, those bottles, cans, eyebrow pencils and clips and other props, you can conjure up another person.

There was the smell of lust in the air. She came over to borrow the fire, with a deliberate indifference on her face, as if imitating some female star in Hollywood, right? I think. So I lit a cigarette for her very brad Pitt. She said "thank you" softly and walked away coolly.

Later I saw her in a gallery. She was on the roof of an old house, looking out over the lost city. The melody of the symphony floated out of the room, and she shouted loudly from above: "I love this place to death", and the artists below heard this delicate exclamation, and must have involuntarily loved her to death- they smoked, drank, chatted, and sold each other every day, as if living in a bubble blown out.

That same night, an inexplicable thing happened, and I still can't understand whether it was because I over-talked, or if she drank too much, so we entered the hotel room slightly drunk. She was sitting in a hotel chair while I was reclining in bed, and the two of them were chatting in a mess, talking vaguely about Baudelaire's poems, and suddenly they had a feeling of "love to death" with each other. The direct consequence of this feeling was that I found another woman next to me the next day, and my hand was still clutching my key point...

A year later we met again at a luxury event. She still didn't refuse to come to a bachelor's house. The footsteps drew a few circles around the room and looked a little lazy. For my enthusiastic movements, she reacted indifferently: "Hey, don't misunderstand, I'm here to see you, talk, no other meaning." I'm leaving. She picked up her tiny bag and hugged her beloved doll and said goodbye to me. I was a little frustrated, "I'm going to a fashion party tonight." She said as she parted.

I went back to my room and put a large herringbone on the double bed, I don't know how long it took. Suddenly the doorbell rang, and I turned over from my dream and went to the door in a daze, and it turned out that it was still her. "The party was wonderful!" She described to me the wonderful night she had just experienced in her usual sentences and tones, and I thought she should have met the men who "loved her to death" and who should have brought her pleasure and touch with a voice full of excitement and art.

Then she curled up on the bed, her face crimson, waiting for a hug and a passionate kiss. I suppose I should do it right away, but never lose the grace of a gentleman. So I gently leaned on and kissed her on the cheek. She held my head, breathed heavily, and said, "I'm sorry you must have been disappointed when you left." She slowly undressed—it was perfect, and I had a good meal.

Suddenly, a burst of air struck, and I froze in the air like I had been unplugged, staying in the posture of the Stone Statue of David. The passion is cooled by the marble, making people unable to move. The prodigal son in Flaubert's novel crossed the brain like an electric bolt, and I suddenly became him.

"What's wrong?" Madame Bovary looked at me in amazement, puzzled by the man in front of me who had suddenly lost power. I paused for more than a dozen seconds and replied, "I'm sorry, maybe I'm too tired today." She said it was all right, then turned her head to the other side of the bed. It was just after 12 o'clock, and the little couple upstairs was heying. "Madame Bovary" and I both turned over a few times, and neither of us spoke. She suddenly stuck to my back, grabbed the words with her right hand, and said strangely, "Hey, remember the day we met, the exhibition that day was really great!" ”

I have never seen "Madame Bovary" again.

Four

Let's go back to the author of the story prototype, Flaubert, who whispered at a banquet: "Madame Bovary is me." A sentence that triggered people's gender transposition thinking. But he smiled and went away, without explaining much. Later, a man named Lin Yihua added to him: "Everyone is Madame Bovary." ”

After the production of the play "Madame Bovary: The Charm and Sorrow of famous ladies", the latter talked about the idea of creation: "Now women want freedom on the one hand, and hope that there is no freedom on the other hand. Because she feels that she is very happy without freedom, which is equivalent to saying that she is a boat, she does not want to cross the ocean, she has found the dock, but at the same time she feels that the outside world is very big, do I want to dock so soon? So the boat was looking for the dock and sneaking outside, and after thirty she panicked, it was the sea, and she couldn't see where the dock was. He later emphasized: "In fact, at this point, there is no difference between men and women except for the difference in life cycle." ”

So I was thinking about where my "Bovary traits" were –whether I was motivated by vanity to support my life. Do you never consider the possibilities of reality when chasing freedom? Is it a "blind flow patient" in love?

Who can answer that? To push back to the beginning, I am afraid that millions of years ago, human beings said goodbye to roaming, began to burrow, and then stabilized and longed to walk freely and harvest more and better prey. This paradoxical myth has been dwelling on. Madame Bovary "wanted to die again, and she wanted to go to Paris again." For us, "we want to be free, and unconsciously step into the bondage of material things and feelings." "#Emotion#Emotion#emotion #爱情的样子 #