La dame aux camélias

"This is a seriously f-ed up story. Having only the slightest familiarity with it by way of <i>La Traviata</i>, I wasn't sure what to expect, but this bizarre blend of hysterical melodrama, **** shaming, and grand guignol was not it.<br/><br/>Where to start? Armand must be one of the most pathetic heroes in literature; storming off in petulant fits one moment; dissolving into deranged weeping the next. He is also incapable of making a decision and sticking to it, constantly buffeted about by his father, his mistress, or his friends. It's hard to understand what Marguerite sees in him; she says he's the only one of her admirers to love her disinterestedly, yet a) that's not true, and b) he abandons her when it matters most.<br/><br/>Then there's the whole "wages of sin" theme. While I imagine Dumas' attitude was progressive for his time, ("Most whores are heartless bitches, but let's be charitable towards the rare few worthy of redemption"), the complete lack of moral indictment of THE MEN is pretty hard to take, especially in Dumas' homilies about "honest" vs "bad" prostitute classes, and the solemn head-shaking at women who "ruined" good men. Men may be foolish or unreliable, but none of them comes in for the tongue lashing endured by the fallen women, and none suffers the horrible physical deterioration of the heroine.<br/><br/>Marguerite's suffering and death is indeed pitiable, especially since we know from the start that her Armand will never return. Although consumptive heroines are a dime a dozen in 19th century literature, it's rare to see how brutally the disease wrecked the human body, (compare Marguerite's agony with the earthly departures of the ethereal Little Eva in <i>Uncle Tom's Cabin</i>, or Ruby Gillis in the <i>Anne of Green Gables series</i>). The revelation of Marguerite's corpse is a shudder-inducing memento mori; horrible, yet, like the narrator, you can not look away."

"Favorite book of all time!! "