Madame Bovary: (movie Tie-in)

Paperback | May 5, 2015

byGustave FlaubertTranslated byLydia DavisIntroduction byLydia Davis

not yet rated|write a review

Now a major motion picture starring Mia Wasikowska, Paul Giamatti, Laura Carmichael, Ezra Miller, and Rhys Ifans, and directed by Sophie Barthes
 
Emma Bovary is the original desperate housewife. Beautiful but bored, she is married to the provincial doctor Charles Bovary yet harbors dreams of an elegant and passionate life. Escaping into sentimental novels, she finds her fantasies dashed by the tedium of her days. Motherhood proves to be a burden; religion is only a brief distraction. In an effort to make her life everything she believes it should be, she spends lavishly on clothes and on her home and embarks on two disappointing affairs. Soon heartbroken and crippled by debts, Emma takes drastic action with tragic consequences for her husband and daughter.

When published in 1857, Madame Bovary was deemed so lifelike that many women claimed they were the model for its heroine. Today the novel is considered the first masterpiece of realist fiction. In this landmark translation, Lydia Davis honors the nuances and particulars of a style that has long beguiled readers of French, giving new life in English to the book that redefined the novel as an art form.

Pricing and Purchase Info

$14.83 online
$18.00 list price (save 17%)
In stock online
Ships free on orders over $25

From the Publisher

Now a major motion picture starring Mia Wasikowska, Paul Giamatti, Laura Carmichael, Ezra Miller, and Rhys Ifans, and directed by Sophie Barthes   Emma Bovary is the original desperate housewife. Beautiful but bored, she is married to the provincial doctor Charles Bovary yet harbors dreams of an elegant and passionate life. Escaping i...

Gustave Flaubert (1821–1880) devoted himself to writing after illness interrupted his career in law in his early twenties. In addition to Madame Bovary, his greatest works include Sentimental Education and Bouvard and Pécuchet. Lydia Davis was named an Officier of the Order of Arts and Letters by the French government for her fiction a...

other books by Gustave Flaubert

Madame Bovary
Madame Bovary

Hardcover|May 26 2015

$23.20 online$30.00list price(save 22%)
Madame Bovary: (penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)
Madame Bovary: (penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

Paperback|Oct 4 2011

$15.64 online$19.00list price(save 17%)
Madame Bovary
Madame Bovary

Paperback|Jun 7 2001

$7.75

see all books by Gustave Flaubert
Format:PaperbackDimensions:352 pages, 8.4 × 5.48 × 0.72 inPublished:May 5, 2015Publisher:Penguin Publishing GroupLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0143129112

ISBN - 13:9780143129110

Look for similar items by category:

Customer Reviews of Madame Bovary: (movie Tie-in)

Reviews

Extra Content

Read from the Book

Chapter OneThe uncouth schoolboy; The Bovary household; A mother's ambitions; Studies with the cure; Training for medicine; Student life in Rouen; Failure and success; A practice in Normandy; The bailiff's widow; The first Madame Bovary.We were in the prep-room when the Head came in, followed by a new boy in mufti and a beadle carrying a big desk. The sleepers aroused themselves, and we all stood up, putting on a startled look, as if we had been buried in our work.The Head motioned to us to sit down.'Monsieur Roger,' said he in a quiet tone to the prep master, I've brought you a new boy. He's going into the second. If his conduct and progress are satisfactory, he will be put up with the boys of his own age. 'The new boy had kept in the background, in the corner behind the door, almost out of sight. He was a country lad of about fifteen, and taller than any of us. His hair was clipped straight across the forehead, like a village choirboy's. He seemed a decent enough fellow, but horribly nervous. Although he was not broad across the shoulders, his green cloth jacket, with its black buttons, looked as if it pinched him under the arms and revealed, protruding well beyond the cuffs, a pair of raw, bony wrists, obviously not unaccustomed to exposure. His legs, encased in blue stockings, issued from a pair of drab-coloured breeches, very tightly braced. He had on a pair of thick, clumsy shoes, not particularly well cleaned and plentifully fortified with nails.The master began to hear the boys at their work. The newcomer listened with all his ears, drinking it in as attentively as if he had been in church, not daring to cross his legs or to lean his elbows on the desk, and when two o'clock came and the bell rang for dismissal, the master had to call him back to earth and tell him to line up with the rest of us.It was our custom, when we came in to class, to throw our caps on the floor, in order to have our hands free. As soon as ever we got inside the door, we 'buzzed' them under the form, against the wall, so as to kick up plenty of dust. That was supposed to be 'the thing.' Whether he failed to notice this manoeuvre or whether he was too shy to join in it, it is impossible to say, but when prayers were over he was still nursing his cap. That cap belonged to the composite order of headgear, and in it the heterogeneous characteristics of the busby, the Polish shapska, the bowler, the otterskin toque and the cotton nightcap were simultaneously represented. It was, in short, one of those pathetic objects whose mute unloveliness conveys the infinitely wistful expression we may sometimes note on the face of an idiot. Ovoid in form and stiffened with whalebone, it began with a sort of triple line of sausage-shaped rolls running all round its circumference; next, separated by a red band, came alternate patches of velvet and rabbit-skin; then a kind of bag or sack which culminated in a stiffened polygon elaborately embroidered, whence, at the end of a long, thin cord, hung a ball made out of gold wire, by way of a tassel. The cap was brand-new, and the peak of it all shiny.'Stand up,' said the master.He stood up, and down went his cap. The whole class began to laugh.He bent down to recover it. One of the boys next to him jogged him with his elbow and knocked it down again. Again he stooped to pick it up.'You may discard your helmet,' said the master, who had a pretty wit.A shout of laughter from the rest of the class quite put the poor fellow out of countenance, and so flustered was he that he didn't know whether to keep it in his hand, put it on the floor or stick it on his head. He sat down and deposited it on his knees.'Stand up,' said the master again, 'and tell me your name.'In mumbling tones the new boy stammered out something quite unintelligible.'Again!'Again came the inarticulate mumble, drowned by the shouts of the class.'Louder!' rapped out the master sharply. 'Speak up!'Whereupon the boy, in desperation, opened his jaws as wide as they would go and, with the full force of his lungs, as though he were hailing somebody at a distance, fired off the word 'Charbovari.'In an instant the class was in an uproar. The din grew louder and louder, a ceaseless crescendo crested with piercing yells--they shrieked, they howled, they stamped their feet, bellowing at the top of their voices: 'Charbovari! Charbovari!' Then, after a while, the storm began to subside. There would be sporadic outbreaks from time to time, smothered by a terrific effort, or perhaps a titter would fizz along a whole row, or a stifled explosion sputter out here and there, like a half-extinguished fuse.However, beneath a hail of 'impositions,' order was gradually restored. The master--who had had it dictated, spelled out and read over to him--had at length succeeded in getting hold of the name of Charles Bovary, and forthwith he ordered the hapless wretch to go and sit on the dunce's stool, immediately below the seat of authority. He started to obey, stopped short and stood hesitating.'What are you looking for?' said the master.'My ca--' began the new boy timidly, casting an anxious glance around him.An angry shout of 'Five hundred lines for the whole class' checked, like the Quos ego, a fresh outburst. 'Stop your noise, then, will you?' continued the master indignantly, mopping his brow with a handkerchief which he had produced from the interior of his cap. 

Editorial Reviews

“[Flaubert’s] masterwork has been given the English translation it deserves.”—Kathryn Harrison, The New York Times Book Review“Dazzling . . . translated to perfect pitch . . . [Davis has] left us the richer with this translation. . . . I’d certainly say it is necessary to have hers.”—Jacki Lyden, NPR.org, Favorite Books of the Year“Flaubert’s strict, elegant, rhythmic sentences come alive in Davis’s English.”—James Wood, The New Yorker’s Book Bench