Therese Raquin

Di Émile Zola e Annalisa Iezzi (a cura di)

Teresa Raquin è senza dubbio uno dei più famosi romanzi di Émile Zola, accattivante e drammatico, intenso e finemente psicologico. Un romanzo che si focalizza sul senso di angoscia dei protagonisti dopo l’uccisione del marito di Teresa, Camillo, avvenuta per mano della moglie e del cinico amante Lorenzo. Un uomo su cui pesa però il senso della colpa, la frustrazione e un mutato sentimento nei confronti di Teresa: dapprima ardente amante poi moglie infelice. Intensa la penetrazione psicologica dei personaggi e la perfetta scansione dei gesti e dei dialoghi.

• Lingua: Italiano
• Editore: REA Multimedia
• Data di uscita: 20 giu 2012
• ISBN: 9788874171408

Émile Zola

<p><b>Émile Zola</b> nació en París en 1840. Hijo de un ingeniero italiano que murió cuando él apenas tenía siete años, nunca fue muy brillante en los estudios, trabajó durante un tiempo en la administración de aduanas, y a los veintidós años se hizo cargo del departamento de publicidad del editor Hachette. Gracias a este empleo conoció a la sociedad literaria del momento y empezó a escribir. <em>Thérèse Raquin</em> (1867; ALBA CLÁSICA núm. LVIII) fue su primera novela «naturalista», que él gustaba de definir como «un trozo de vida».</p> <p>En 1871, <em>La fortuna de los Rougon</em> y <em>La jauría</em> (editadas conjuntamente en ALBA CLÁSICA MAIOR núm. XXXIV) iniciaron el ciclo de <em>Los Rougon-Macquart</em>, una serie de veinte novelas cuyo propósito era trazar la historia natural y social de una familia bajo el Segundo Imperio; a él pertenecen, entre otras, <em>El vientre de París</em> (1873), <em>La conquista de Plassans</em> (1874) (editadas conjuntamente en AALBA CLÁSICA MAIOR núm. XXXV), <em>La caída del padre Mouret</em> (1875), <em>La taberna</em> (1877), <em>Nana</em> (1880) y <em>El Paraíso de las Damas</em> (1883: ALBA MINUS núm. 29); la última fue <em>El doctor Pascal</em> (1893). Zola seguiría posteriormente con el sistema de ciclos con las novelas que componen <em>Las tres ciudades</em> (1894-1897) y <em>Los cuatro Evangelios</em> (1899-1902). En 1897 su célebre intervención en el caso Dreyfuss le valió un proceso y el exilio.</p> <p>«Digo lo que veo –escribió una vez-, narro sencillamente y dejo al moralista el cuidado de sacar lecciones de ello. Puse al desnudo las llagas de los de abajo. Mi obra no es una obra de partido ni de propaganda; es una obra de verdad.» Murió en Paris en 1902.</p>

Anteprima del libro

XXXI

Titolo

Thérèse Raquin

Emile Zola

Informazioni

In copertina: Edouard Manet, Berthe Morisot distesa, 1873, Parigi Musée Marmottan

A cura di Annalisa Iezzi

© 2012 REA Edizioni

Via S. Agostino 15

67100 L’Aquila

www.reamultimedia.it

[e-mail]

La Casa Editrice esperite le pratiche per acquisire tutti i diritti relativi alla presente opera, rimane a disposizione di quanti avessero comunque a vantare ragioni in proposito.

I

In fondo a via Guénégaud, venendo dal lungosenna, si trova la galleria del Ponte Nuovo, una specie di corridoio stretto e buio che va da via Mazzarino a via della Senna. Lunga circa trenta passi e larga al massimo due, la galleria è pavimentata con ciottoli giallastri, logori, mal messi, esalanti un'acre umidità. Il tetto di vetri che la ricopre, tagliato ad angolo retto, è completamente ricoperto di sudiciume. Nelle belle giornate estive quando un sole rovente brucia le vie, un chiarore s'infiltra tra quei vetri lurido e langue penosamente nella galleria. Nei tetri giorni d'inverno e nelle mattinate nebbiose, la vetrata non riflette che grigiore sui ciottoli scivolosi, un grigiore sordido e sporco.

Alla sua sinistra si affondano alcune botteghe oscure, basse, schiacciate, le quali emanano freddi soffi di sepolcro: botteghe di rivenditori di libri vecchi, negozi

di giocattoli, di cartonaggi, le cui mostre di polvere si fondono con le ombre dell'ambiente; le vetrine, fatte di piccoli riquadri, striano di riflessi verdastri le merci esposte, e dietro di esse nere di tenebre, le botteghe sembrano lugubri fosse, nelle quali si dimenano forme bizzarre.

A destra, per tutta la lunghezza della galleria, corre un muro sul quale i bottegai di fronte hanno applicato delle vetrinette in cui oggetti indescrivibili, merci dimenticate là da oltre vent'anni, giacciono su sottili ripiani dipinti di un'orrenda tinta bruna. Una venditrice di gioielli falsi si è installata nell'incavo di uno di quegli armadi e vi vende anelli da quindici soldi, delicatamente deposti su un piano di velluto azzurro in fondo a una scatola di mogano. Il muro sale oltre la vetrinetta, nero, grossolanamente intonacato, come se fosse spalmato di lebbra e tutto segnato di cicatrici.

La Galleria del Ponte Nuovo non è luogo in cui passeggiare la si imbocca per evitare un lungo giro, e guadagnare qualche minuto. Non vi passa, quindi, che gente occupatissima, la cui unica preoccupazione è di far presto e tirare dritto: apprendisti di officina con il grembiale da lavoro, artigiani che vanno a consegnare i loro manufatti, uomini e donne con pacchi sotto il braccio, e anche anziani che si trascinano nel crepuscolo tedioso che scende dalla vetrata, piccole frotte di ragazzi che, all'uscita di scuola, vanno lì per fare chiasso correndo e battendo gli zoccoli sul selciato.

Tutto il giorno è un rumore secco e affrettato di passi risonanti sulla pietra con irritante irregolarità; nessuno parla, nessuno si ferma, ciascuno corre alle sue occupazioni, la testa bassa, il passo rapido, senza dare nemmeno uno sguardo alle botteghe. Quando per puro caso un passante si ferma davanti ad una vetrina, i bottegai lo guardano preoccupati.

A sera tre becchi a gas, chiusi in lanterne pesanti e quadrate, rischiarano la galleria: sospesi alla vetrata, sulla quale gettano chiazze di chiarore rossastro, lasciano cadere intorno vacillanti cerchi di pallido splendore debbano sparire ad ogni istante. La galleria prende, allora, l'aspetto sinistro d'un vero scannatoio grandi ombre si allungano sul selciato, fiammate d'umido arrivano dalla strada; si direbbe un condotto sotterraneo fievolmente rischiarato da tre lampade funeree.

Per l'illuminazione delle mostre, i mercanti si accontentano degli insignificanti raggi che i becchi a gas fanno cadere sulle vetrine, mentre all'interno non accendono che una candela sotto un paralume mettendola su un angolo del bancone, soltanto allora i passanti possono distinguere cosa vi sia in quegli antri, nel quali è notte durante il giorno. Sulla linea nera dei frontoni, le vetrine del cartonato fiammeggiano due lampade a petrolio forano le tenebre con fiamme giallastre. Invece, una candela, infilata nel tubo di vetro di una lampada a olio, leva scintille di luce dalla scatola dei gioielli falsi, mentre la padrona sonnecchia nel vano della sua mostra, con le mani infilate sotto lo scialle.

Anni or sono, di fronte alla venditrice dei gioielli falsi, c'era una bottega, i cui scaffali verde bottiglia trasudavano umidità. Sull'insegna, un'asse lunga e stretta, era scritto a caratteri neri: Maceria, e su uno dei vetri della porta d'entrata si leggeva un nome di donna: Teresa Raquin, in caratteri rossi. A destra e a sinistra della porta s'infossavano due vetrine profonde, tappezzate di carta blu, che di giorno, immerse in un tenero chiaroscuro, lasciavano intravedere l'esposizione.

In una c'era un po' di biancheria: cuffie di tulle cannetta to da due o tre franchi l'una, polsi e colli di mussolina, maglie, calze, calzini, bretelle. Ogni oggetto, ingiallito e sciupato, era tristemente appeso ad un uncino di fil di ferro, di modo che la vetrina sembrava dall'alto in basso riempita di cenci biancastri che prendevano un aspetto lugubre in quell'oscurità trasparente. Le cuffie nuove di un bianco più vivo macchiavano bruscamente la carta blu che tappezzava i ripiani, mentre i calzini colorati, messi su stanghette, mettevano note scure sulla mussolina sbiadita.

Nell'altra vetrina più stretta, c'erano gomitoli di lana verde, bottoni neri cuciti su carte bianche, scatole di ogni colore e di ogni dimensione, reti con perline d'acciaio esposti su tondi di carta bluastra , fasci d' aghi per lana, campioni di tappezzeria, rotoli di nastri, il tutto sembrava una massa di oggetti stinti e sciupati che senza dubbio giacevano lì da cinque o sei anni.

Tutte le tinte si erano scolorite finendo per diventare grigio sporco, in quell'armadio che polvere ed umidità facevano marcire.

D'estate, verso mezzogiorno, quando il sole bruciava piazze e vie con i suoi raggi ramati, s'intravedeva, dentro le cuffie della prima vetrina, un profilo pallido e rigido di una giovane staccarsi vagamente dalle tenebre che regnavano nella bottega. Alla fronte bassa ed arsa era congiunto un naso lungo, stretto, affilato; le labbra erano due linee sottili d'un rosa pallido, il mento, corto e nervoso, si attaccava al collo con una curva dolce e carnosa. Affondato nell'ombra, il corpo era invisibile: si scorgeva soltanto quel profilo di un biancore opaco, bucato da un grande occhio nero e come schiacciato da una folta capigliatura scura; quel profilo restava lì per ore e ore, immobile e tranquillo, fra due cuffie sulle quali le stanghette di ferro avevano tracciato due righe di ruggine.

Di sera, con la lampada accesa, si vedeva l'interno della bottega, più larga che profonda: da una parte un piccolo banco, dall'altra una scala a chiocciola portava alle stanze superiori. Lungo le pareti erano disposti armadi, vetrine, e pile scatole di cartone verde; quattro sedie ed un tavolo completavano l'arredamento. L'ambiente appariva spoglio, glaciale; e le stesse merci, impacchettate ed accatastate negli angoli, non giocavano nel grigiore con i loro vivaci colori.

Di solito c'erano due donne sedute dietro il banco: la giovane dal profilo rigido e una vecchia che sonnecchiando sembrava sorridere. Costei aveva circa sessantanni. Il suo volto grasso e placido biancheggiava al chiarore della lampada, mentre un grosso gatto tigrato, accoccolato su un angolo del banco, la guardava dormire. Più in là, seduto su una sedia, un uomo sulla trentina leggeva e chiacchierava sommessamente con la giovane. Era piccolo, debole, molle d'aspetto, i capelli di un biondo sbiadito, la barba rada, il viso lentigginoso; sembrava un ragazzo malato e viziato.

Poco prima delle dieci la vecchia si scuoteva dal suo torpore, chiudeva la bottega, tutta la famiglia se ne andava a letto. Il gatto tigrato seguiva i padroni facendo le fusa e strusciando la testa contro ogni sbarra della ringhiera.

L'alloggio, di sopra, si componeva di tre stanze. La scala portava ad una sala da pranzo adibita anche a salotto: a sinistra una stufa di maiolica in una nicchia, di fronte una credenza, alcune sedie schierate lungo le pareti, al centro, spianata, una tavola rotonda, in fondo dietro un tramezzo a vetri, una cucina buia, e a ognuno dei due lati una camera da letto.

Dopo aver abbracciato figlio e nuora, la vecchia si ritirava nella sua camera; il gatto s'appisolava su una sedia in cucina; gli sposi entravano nella loro camera, la quale aveva una seconda porta su una scala che immetteva nella galleria, attraverso un atrio stretto e buio.

Tremante di febbre, l'uomo si metteva a letto mentre la giovane apriva la finestra per chiudere le persiane. Si soffermava qualche Istante, di fronte a quel muro nero rozzamente intonacato, che s'alzava oltre la galleria volgeva uno sguardo distratto sul muro e poi, silenziosa, andava a sdraiarsi anche lei con sdegnosa indifferenza.

II

Mamma Raquin era una vecchia commerciante di Vernon.

Per circa venticinque anni aveva vissuto in una picco la bottega di quella città poi, stanca e addolorata, dopo la morte dei marito vendette la tua proprietà e, fra vendita e risparmi, ricavò un capitale di quarantamila franchi, la cui rendita di duemila franchi annui era più che sufficiente ai suoi modesti bisogni. Con la sua vita ritirata, ignara delle gioie e dei dolorosi affanni del mondo, s'era costruita una esistenza di pace e di tranquilla beatitudine.

Per quattrocento franchi all'anno prese in affitto una casetta con un giardino che scendeva fino alla riva della Senna: una casa quieta ed appartata, posta in mezzo a vasti prati, arieggiante vagamente a chiostro, alla quale si accedeva attraverso uno stretto sentiero con le finestre che guardavano sul fiume e sui pendii deserti della riva opposta. La buona donna, che aveva passata la cinquantina, si chiuse in quella solitudine e vi rimase serenamente con il figlio Camillo e la nipote Teresa.

Camillo aveva vent'anni e la madre lo viziava ancora come fosse un bambino lo adorava perché sopravvissuto ad una giovinezza di sofferenze. Il ragazzo aveva avuto tutti i tipi di febbre e tutte le malattie immaginabili e mamma Raquin aveva combattuto quindi anni contro quei terribili mali che volevano strapparle il figlio, li vinse tutti con grande pazienza, cure e dedizione.

Salvato da morte, Camillo crebbe timoroso per le continue scosse che gli avevano indebolito il fisico: fermato nello sviluppo, restò piccolo e gracile, e le sue membra assunsero movimenti lenti e stanchi. La madre l'amava ancora di più per quella debolezza che lo affaticava, e guardava con tenerezza quel volto pallido, soddisfatta del suo trionfo, quando pensava a quante volte aveva ridato la vita al figlio.

Nei brevi periodi di tregua tra una malattia e l'altra, il ragazzo studiò in una scuola commerciale di Vernon, imparò a scrivere e a fare i conti , ma la sua istruzione si fermò alle quattro operazioni e a una conoscenza molto superficiale della grammatica; in seguito prese lezioni di calligrafia e contabilità. Se qualcuno le consigliava di mandarlo in collegio, mamma Raquin si sentiva prendere da uno stato di terrore: sapeva che, lontano da lei il figlio sarebbe morto; diceva che i libri lo avrebbero ucciso, quindi restò ignorante, e quell'ignoranza divenne un'altra debolezza.

Raggiunti i diciotto anni, stanco di oziare, insofferente alle ossessionanti attenzioni materne, volle trovarsi un impiego e divenne commesso da un commerciante di telerie a sessanta franchi al mese. L'irrequietezza del suo spirito gli rendeva insopportabile l'ozio, e quindi si sentì più calmo e più in gamba pur lavorando come impiegato dovendo stare tutto il giorno curvo su fatture e lunghissimi conti che spuntava pazientemente cifra per cifra. A sera, esausto, con la testa vuota, sapeva sentirsi felice nello stesso ebetismo che lo prendeva. Dovette litigare con la madre per lavorare dal telaiolo: ella voleva tenerlo sempre con sé, fra due guanciali, lontano dai problemi della vita; ma il ragazzo s'infuriò, pretese di lavorare come gli altri ragazzi avrebbero preteso i giocattoli, e non lo faceva per senso di dovere, bensì per istinto,per bisogno naturale. Le tenerezze, le coccole della madre gli avevano suscitato un feroce egoismo; credeva, si, di amare coloro che lo compiangevano e lo viziavano, ma in realtà viveva per sé, chiuso in se stesso, mirando al proprio benessere e cercando tutti i mezzi possibili per aumentarlo. Quando l'eccessivo tenero e opprimente affetto di mamma Raquin lo esasperò, cercò scampo in un'occupazione qualunque che lo allontanasse dalle tisane e dai decotti. Poi la sera ritornando dall'ufficio, correva in riva alla Senna con la cugina Teresa, che non aveva ancora diciott'anni.

Un giorno sedici anni prima, quando mamma Raquin lavorava come commerciante a Vernon, era giunto dall'Algeria suo fratello, il capitano, con una bimba fra le braccia <>, le disse sorridendo. <>. La donna prese la bimba, le sorrise, la baciò sulle guance rosee e non fece troppe domande. Degans si fermò otto giorni a Vernon e della piccina disse solo che era nata ad Orano da una bellissima indigena. Un'ora prima di andarsene consegnò alla sorella l'atto di nascita nella quale Teresa, da lui riconosciuta, ne portava il nome del casato. Andò via, e non lo si vide mai più: qualche anno dopo si disse che fu ucciso in Africa.

Teresa crebbe vicino a Camillo, nel medesimo letto, sotto le amorevoli cure della zia. Aveva una salute di ferro ma fu allevata come una malaticcia, dividendo con il cugino le medicine e l'aria calda della stes sa stanza. Per ore restava accanto al fuoco, pensierosa contemplava le fiamme senza abbassare lo sguardo. La vita forzata in convalescenza la fece chiudere in se stessa, si abituò a parlare a bassa voce, a camminare senza far rumore, a restare muta ed immobile sulla sedia con gli occhi aperti ma privi di espressione.

Quando alzava un braccio o muoveva una gamba, si sentiva agile, muscoli possenti, energie e passioni latenti un un corpo assopito. Un giorno, fiaccato dalla debolezza, il cugino cadde. Teresa lo sollevò e lo portò con grande sforzo tanto da farle affiorare chiazze vermiglie sulle gote. La vita chiusa che conduceva, il regime snervante al quale era sottoposta non riuscirono lo stesso ad indebolire il corpo magro e florido, sol il suo volto divenne di un colorito giallastro, che la faceva sembrare brutta vista nell'ombra. Talvolta dalla finestra fissava le case di fronte illuminate dalla luce dorata del sole.

Quando mamma Raquin vendette il negozio e si ritirò nella casetta accanto al fiume, Teresa ne fu assai contenta. Non mostrò la sua gioia a nessuno perché a furia di sentirsi dire dalla zia: «Sta attenta, non far rumore», s'era abituata a tenersi per se tutti gli impulsi della sua natura. Dotata di eccezionale sangue freddo, nascondeva, sotto un'apparente calma, impeti focosi: si comportava sempre come fosse nella camera del cugino, cioè presso un moribondo, e si era abituata a movimenti misurati, al silenzio, alla calma, alle parole appena bisbigliate. Alla vista del giardino, del fiume bianco, dei vasti pendii verdi che salivano all'orizzonte fu presa da una selvaggia voglia di correre e di gridare; il cuore le batteva in petto con violenza; ma nessun muscolo del volto la tradì, ed ella si limitò ad un sorriso

quando la zia le domandò se le piacesse la nuova casa.

Da quel momento la sua vita migliorò: ella conservò il suo portamento agile, la sua fisionomia calma e indifferente, restò la ragazza cresciuta nel letto di un malato, anche se dentro di se sentiva un'esistenza ardente ed impetuosa. Se restava sola sui prati o in riva al fiume, si distendeva a pancia in giù come una bestia, gli occhi neri spalancati, il corpo teso pronto a balzare. E vi restava ore ed ore a non pensare a nulla, bruciata dal sole,

felice di poter affondare le dita nel terreno, e faceva sogni folli, guardava il fiume che borbottava, immaginava che l'acqua stesse per assalirla, e allora si irrigidiva, si preparava alla difesa e si domandava adirata come avrebbe potuto vincere i flutti.

A sera cal ma e silenziosa, Teresa cuciva accanto alla zia, e a guardarla nella luce fioca che scendeva dal paralume, pareva sonnecchiasse. Camillo sprofondato nella poltrona pensava ai conti del telaiolo. Qualche parola detta a bassa voce turbava di tanto in tanto la pace di questa addormentata intimità.

Mam ma Raquin guardava i suoi ragazzi con serena bontà. Aveva deciso di sposarli. Pensando al figlio sempre moribondo, era atterrita all'idea di dover morire un giorno lasciandolo solo e sofferente; perciò faceva affidamento su Teresa come vigile assistente accanto a Camillo: per quell'aria tranquilla, per la muta dedizione, la nipote le ispirava fiducia illimitata; l'aveva vista all'opera e voleva darla al figlio come angelo custode. Per lei, quel matrimonio era una soluzione prevista, decretata. Lo sapevano anche i due ragazzi, che un giorno si sarebbero sposati. Cresciuti con quella prospettiva, essa era diventata per loro naturale, e in famiglia se ne parlava come di un fatto necessario e inesorabile. <

Impoverito dai malanni, Camillo ignorava gli impulsi dell'adolescenza. Si comportava da bambino con con sua cugina e l'abbracciava, come faceva con la madre, per abitudine, senza abbandonare nulla della sua egoistica tranquillità. Vedeva in lei una buona compagna, che l'aiutava a non annoiarsi troppo e che, se necessario, sapeva preparargli una tisana. Quando giocherellava con lei, tenendola fra le braccia, la considerava come un maschio, i suoi sensi non erano scossi da alcun fremito: né pensò mai, in uno di quei momenti, di baciare le labbra calde di Teresa, che si dibatteva ridendo nervosamente.

Anche la ragazza appariva fredda e indifferente. Talvolta fissava con i suoi grandi occhi neri Camillo e lo guardava in modo estremamente calmo: soltanto le sue labbra, allora, avevano vibrazioni nervose quasi impercettibili. Non si leggeva mai nulla su quel volto chiuso, su cui una volontà ferrea imprimeva miti e sollecite espressioni. Quando si parlava del matrimonio, Teresa diventava pensierosa, limitandosi ad approvare con cenni del capo tutto ciò che diceva mamma Raquin. Camillo, quanto a lui, s'addormentava.

Nelle belle serate d'estate i due giovani si rifugiavano in riva al fiume. Le cure oppressive della madre esasperavano Camillo, il quale aveva bisogno di momenti di ribellione. Voleva correre, colpire, sfuggire a quelle svenevoli carezze che lo disgustavano. Allora trascinava Teresa, la provocava per poter lottare a rotolarsi sull'erba. Un giorno la spinse e la fece cadere: la ragazza si rialzò con un balzo felino e, con il volto acceso e gli occhi rossi si precipitò contro di lui a braccia tese . Camillo si lasciò andare lentamente a terra, aveva avuto paura.

I mesi e gli anni passarono e giunse il giorno prefissato per il matrimonio. Mamma Raquin prese Teresa in disparte, le parlò dei suoi genitori e le raccontò la storia della sua nascita. La ragazza ascoltò in silenzio, poi abbracciò la zia senza dire una parola. E la sera, invece di entrare nella sua camera, che stava a sinistra della scala, entrò in quella del cugino, che era a destra: fu il solo cambiamento che ci fu in quel giorno nella sua vita. L'indomani, quando gli sposi scesero

Recensioni su Therese Raquin

[cindywho-1 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

It had been a while since I read a French novel and I'd been wanting to dive back into Zola. I think this is his first one and has some of the same themes as the other two I've read (Nana and L'assommoir) - What I find most fascinating about his stories are the details of middle class life in 19th century Paris. He'll talk about money and boredom and mediocrity and personalities that can't survive the things they've done.

[jonfaith · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

Zola was exhaustive in his efforts to establish his thesis of debilitating compunction. Unfortunately the reader is left bruised and likewise knackered as well. Old morality raises its invisible hand and thwarts the adulterers. It isn't that simple, but such is the thrust. The details of the waterborne episode are especially chilling.

[mrsrk-1 · Valutazione: 1 su 5 stelle]

Another very dark, negative, tale from Zola--which is to be expected, since all he wrote was like that. Not one character has any redeeming quality, on the contrary. You are left to deal with the almost-scum of the earth. I had to read French Realism in high school and forgot how dry, gloomy and negative it all is. Pass this one and go straight to Proust. He was not an optimist, but at least his writing will raise you to heights you will find in no other writer.

[brakketh-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Excellent novel studying the different impacts that murdering someone has on different personalities.

[voxel9ux · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

This is such a seriously Gothic story, IMO. The anger, the hatred, the lust, the disgust and the paranoia. Such a delicious mixture so well written is totally sick! I have read this story more than once and enjoy it more each time discovering new things and new interpretations every time I do. Zola is a master craftsman in the genre and I encourage anyone to read this book. You will discover the roots of many modern television and cinema themes paying homage to this book. I bet Hitchcock read this story more than once!

[beezle176 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

fantastic book, depressing story

[kale.dyer · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Excellent novel studying the different impacts that murdering someone has on different personalities.

[nosajeel · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

An absorbing novel, an early version of a noir. It is a naturalistic "study" of a loveless couple, an affair, a murder, and a descent into madness that, as you might guess, ends badly.

The novel generally has a very tight economy, with four main characters, four supporting characters, very few other walk-on parts, and the majority set in one location. It was considered shocking at the time due to its relatively open depictions of sexuality, crime, and punishment. It still is somewhat "shocking," to the degree that anything is, most notably as the lovers taunt the stroke-ridden mother of their victim--who is unable to communicate their confession to her visitors.

Zola's preface describes the book in quasi-scientific terms, as a scientific observation that takes an inevitable course that he did not decide. He places himself at odds with the romantics, but the novel itself shares many of the same dramas and conventions--and is thus considerably more interesting than the naturalistic description it claims to be.

[jvioland_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

A weak woman marries a weak cousin at the request of her strong Aunt. She has a long affair with the husband's friend, the husband dies, the lovers quarrel and plot to kill the other, have remorse and commit suicide before the Aunt who enjoys the spectacle as punishment for the woman who was responsible for her son's sad life. Hoo, boy!

[flippinpages-1 · Valutazione: 2 su 5 stelle]

So disappointed with this book. Horrible repetitive writing. No characterization. It's like a poor knockoff of "Crime and punishment". I may have chosen a poor translation as I didn't do my usual research but that only bears so much responsibility.

[theelliemo · Valutazione: 2 su 5 stelle]

This starts off as a great story, but from about half-way in, it gets repetitive and unnecessarily drawn-out. The final scene was as much a relief for me reading it as it was for the main characters

[beyondedenrock · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

This book is alive. From the first to the last I saw the story came to life and I was drawn so completely in. It made my heart beat a little faster, and even now I have put the book down, slept and lived through another day, it is still in my head and my heart.On one hand the story is utterly modern: and it is timeless. It would be so easy to reset in in any period since it was published, and equally easy to take it back through the centuries.Because this is a story of humanity. Of what people may do to get what they want, and of how they may be destroyed if they reach too far, if they cross certain lines.A story of emptiness, passion, horror, despair, guilt, revenge …Thérèse was the daughter of a French sailor and a native woman. Her father took his sister, a haberdasher, to raise with her son. Camille, a bright but sickly child. It was expected that Thérèse and Camille would marry, and marry they did. Not because either one had feelings for the another, but because it didn’t occur to either of them to do anything else, or that life could offer anything more than they already knew.Zola painted a picture of dark and dull lives, and yet he held me. Somehow, I don’t know how, he planted the idea that something would happen, that it was imperative that I continued to turn the pages.When Camille tried to pull away from his protective mother life changed. Thérèse met Laurent, a friend of her husband who was everything that her husband was not. A passionate, obsessive relationship grew between them. Their feelings were tangible.They feared discovery. They knew what they wanted, and they were oblivious to anything else. And so they acted.That act is stunning. Shocking. A flash of light in a dark story, and it is executed quite brilliantly.It may sound like an end, but it came early in the story.The knowledge of what they had done, the consequences of what they had done, were corrosive. For Thérèse. For Laurent. And for their relationship.For a while it isn’t clear where the story will go. The pair seem trapped, in lives overtaken by guilt, horror and despair. But then something snaps. A downward spiral leads to a devastating conclusion.Zola handles all of this magnificently.The bleak street, the house, where Thérèse and her family lived and worked was described so vividly, the atmosphere was so claustrophic, it was utterly real.And he deployed his cast – four principals, four supporting players, and a cat – so cleverly. Each was essential. Each had more than one role to play. Their story has broad strokes, and it has small details too, and they all work together beautifully.The story is desperately dark, but it is honest and never gratuitous. And the story is paramount; everything else is there to support the story, and it is woven in so well that it is never a distraction. You could stop to observe if you chose, or you could be quite naturally swept along by events.It’s greatest strength is its creator’s understanding of humanity. That allowed him to bring flawed, fallible, utterly real human beings to life on the page. To lay bare their hearts and souls. And to make the evolution of their lives, the extraordinary things that happen, completely understandable.And so it was that the skill of the author, and the understanding of the author, make this book compelling, horrific, and desperately sad.

[bayardus-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

It's easy to see why Thérèse Raquin launched Zola's career, with its affecting imagery and dramatic scenes. It's also easy to see that this is early Zola, when the author was still figuring out pacing and how to blend his moralizing and his storytelling together. Overall, this is a good book, but a bit unbalanced.

First off, the good- even in this early book, Zola can set a great scene. He deftly establishes the character of Thérèse as a free spirit boxed in by circumstances and forced to watch her life slip away. When she is surrounded by her husband's friends at the weekly dinner party and imagines herself "buried at the bottom of the tomb, in company with mechanical corpses," you understand and sympathize with her. This is without Zola adding any malicious characters or making Thérèse into a victim: the novel emphasizes that the husband Thérèse hates so much is not evil, just as later on the book emphasizes that Thérèse and Laurent aren't cruel. The characters are what they are, all brutes (a term that Zola overuses throughout this work), but not monsters. The great scenes continue throughout the book- Thérèse and Laurent's early romance, where a stolen kiss is like a "blinding flash of lightning in a leaden sky." Later, the murder of Camille oozes with tension, and after he is gone the nearly-paralyzed Madame Raquin attempting to reveal his murder at a dinner party is a great piece of suspense. The killing of the cat by Laurent and the accompanying visuals are memorable, as is the final scene of the book, not to mention the famous morgue scene. In short, the writing hits many high notes, and, while they devolve a bit in the second half of the book, for the most part the characters avoid falling into tired archetypes.

Unfortunately, the story is not consistently great throughout. Zola has the affair escalate to murder rather quickly, so that I was told of the infatuation between Thérèse and Laurent but didn't have time to feel it. Then, once the murder occurs, Zola has the perpetrators wallow in their guilt for far too long, to the extent that the later half of the book tended to drag at times. There's nothing wrong with depicting the murder as having ruined the relationship, or with exploring the descent into vice and fear of betrayal that haunts both the characters, but the endless mention of Camille's drowned corpse occupying their lives and the sleepless nights of Thérèse and Laurent went on for so long that it dulled the impact of their grief and regret. The emphasis on how terrible the two felt after the murder made it eventually seem as though Zola wasn't so much telling a story as he was moralizing on the sin of murder, even though Zola insterestingly depicts Thérèse and Laurent as having in some ways been reborn through the act of murder (Thérèse with her adventure novels and Laurent with his art).

This is a short novel, so even shaving off twenty pages from the wallowing section and adding twenty more to the affair section could have significantly rebalanced the book and, in my opinion, made it noticeably better. Still, though, because the impressive imagery and individual scenes this story was well done overall. Not as good as Germinal, to be sure, but there's enough good stuff here that I'm excited to read La Bête Humaine, wherein Zola tackles similar subject matter with a more experienced hand. I give this book 3.5 stars, rounding up to 4.

[bookmarque · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

If you think serious depravity is a theme confined to 20th century literature or later, you need to read Therese Raquin. This book paints a brutal and unrelenting story of two amoral people who will even fake the appearance of guilt and remorse. At first I was put off by the repetition. In the beginning it was the grungy arcade, shop and claustrophobic rooms where Therese and family spend most of their lives. Then it was the description of that life and what led to present circumstances. Each section of forward progress is really over-the-top and repetitive, but once Zola is done and moves beyond, it’s pretty much left in the past. Which is good because the sheer emotional turmoil is enough to cope with from one time frame to the next.It’s that emotional turmoil that had me at the breaking point for believability. No, I’ve never been a murderer or an adulteress, so I don’t know what that kind of guilt can do to a person, but it seemed like drama for drama’s sake. Either in the narrative style, or in the intent and motivations of the characters. Whichever it was, it felt alien, like it did in Crime and Punishment. All the murderers in these tales have many a justification for their crimes ahead of time. Their victims deserve to be killed. The killers have the right to do away with their victims because justice is on their side. But after the killing is done, all fall prey to their own twisted psyches which feed on escalating guilt if not exactly remorse.For Therese and Laurent, they wait so long to engineer their eventual marriage, that any passion they manufactured for each other (out of propinquity and ennui) is gone; burned out by the act of violence they committed and has gone unpunished and undetected. Camille’s death was and will forever be an accident to the world and what is more natural than to bring Camille’s widow and best friend together in a union to honor the drowned man. By the time they connive their way into their legitimate relationship, all they have left is fear, guilt, self-pity, and hatred for each other. Zola describes it well in one short sentence - “Waiting had extinguished the flame that had formerly fired them.”Some say that Therese is portrayed as a more base creature than Laurent and is the victim of the writer’s misogyny and chauvinism, but I didn’t feel it was unbalanced. Laurent is described as not caring if he hurt Camille or his mother. He’s brutish, lazy and delusional about his right to live a completely idle life on the money Therese will inherit from Madame Raquin. His “love” for Therese is brought on by the fact that he cannot have her, not from anything genuine. I found the use of the word sweehearts to describe what they are to each other to be the height of irony and I don’t know whether to attribute it to Zola or the translation. Either way it is the perfect antithesis of their true nature. As bad as Laurent is, Therese is a perfect match for him. She manipulates Laurent to violence and uses this to engineer some sort of pardon in her own mind. She abases herself before Madame Raquin and though the old woman is beyond speech, determines that she does in fact forgive Therese for killing her son. With these ideas twisting in her brain, she attempts to live a life outside of her household and tries on loose living and drink for a while. So does Laurent. It doesn’t work to relieve them of their hallucinations of the dead man and they are inexorably drawn back together in a spiral of increasing violence and hate.The gothic heights of perverted morality and atmosphere are pretty thick toward the end and the Poe vibe is even stronger. Their impending madness is always in the forefront of the narrative and it doesn’t take much to see where this will end up. With Madame Raquin’s paralysis a la Noirtier being the absolute capper on the whole situation, the tension escalates to the inevitable conclusion which, really, is the only way it could end and it satisfies. Therese and Laurent deserved each other and were true to their natures to the bitter end.

[coach_of_alva · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Kate Winslet reads Zola’s proto-noir tale of adultery and murder in the tone that I would have imagined Zola using: detached and disgusted. She brought the characters, male and female, to life in their short bursts of dialogue: angry, unhinged Therese; loud, brutish Laurent; the fools whose great goal in life is playing dominoes with what they imagine is a perfect family.

[stbalbach_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Thérèse Raquin is one of Zola's early works published when he was 27 years old. The writing style is very energetic, in fact Zola tries too hard. But it's still a powerful story, despite extended overly-emotional passages that turn his characters into amateur drama students. Zola existed in that middle ground between Romanticism and Modernism - there is overwrought sentimental emotion of Romanticism combined with the realism and symbolism of Modernism. This is my 8th Zola novel. I don't know what it is about Zola and smell but once again I came away feeling like I had sniffed the dirty undergarments of unsavory Paris. And once again I thought the first third of the novel was the best as he paints character and scenery portraits - when it goes internal and Zola relies on outdated notions of human behavior it becomes wearisome.

[kristelh_15 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

The story is of a young girl, daughter of the brother of Madame Raquin and a woman from Algeria who is brought to Madame Raquin to raise after the mother dies. Madame Raquin has one son Camille Raquin who is sickly and spoiled. Madame Raquin marries her son and Therese to each other. Therese later becomes involved an an affair. The story is about the affair and murder. The author’s purpose in writing the novel is to “study temperaments” Therefore there is a detached and scientific approach to the story and the work is considered an example of Naturalism. Themes include punishment and imprisonment, temperaments and the interaction of these temperaments. Therese is melancholic, Laurent is sanguine, Camille is phlegmatic. It was made into film, TV and theatrical adaptations. What I liked; it was a story easy to follow, the characters were such that it was hard to like any of them. You want to feel sorry for Therese and Laurent is detestable. Madame and Camille Raquin have little to evoke any sympathy. Still the story is good. The narration by Winslet is very good. Her voice is clear and easy to listen. I give it 3.5 stars. It would have been higher except for its detachment. The author studies adultery and murder and the devastating effects it has on those that make that choice. Of the three temperaments, Camille’s was the easiest to find merit. He was rather spoiled but he had a desire to work and work he found and work he did. More than what can be said for Laurent.

[gbill_7 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

Zola’s first major novel suffers mainly from him trying too hard, presumably because he was a young writer. The premise is straightforward: Therese Raquin is trapped in a marriage of convenience to her sickly cousin, Camille, and under the watchful eye of his mother. Along comes her husband’s friend Laurent, and sparks fly. To describe how it plays out from there would be to spoil the plot, which is pretty thin, and plods along.Zola is guilty scientifically of believing in the theory of the day that people could be categorized by their temperaments (bilious, sanguine, nervous, and lymphatic), and artistically of explaining his characters actions per his theories, as opposed to letting the reader observe and draw their own conclusions. In addition, the description of animal passion, haunting guilt, and the device of a bite on Laurent’s neck are all overwrought. However, there were a few redeeming aspects of the book: (1) the description of the public viewing of the morgue for unidentified bodies in 19th century Paris, which was shocking and true, (2) the torturous fate of Madame Raquin, and (3) the minor character Grivet, who Zola skillfully has playing the oaf on all occasions. These aren’t enough to pull the rating up higher than a three though, and I would recommend Germinal or Nana from the more mature Zola instead.

[jasonlf · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

An absorbing novel, an early version of a noir. It is a naturalistic "study" of a loveless couple, an affair, a murder, and a descent into madness that, as you might guess, ends badly.The novel generally has a very tight economy, with four main characters, four supporting characters, very few other walk-on parts, and the majority set in one location. It was considered shocking at the time due to its relatively open depictions of sexuality, crime, and punishment. It still is somewhat "shocking," to the degree that anything is, most notably as the lovers taunt the stroke-ridden mother of their victim--who is unable to communicate their confession to her visitors.Zola's preface describes the book in quasi-scientific terms, as a scientific observation that takes an inevitable course that he did not decide. He places himself at odds with the romantics, but the novel itself shares many of the same dramas and conventions--and is thus considerably more interesting than the naturalistic description it claims to be.

[writestuff_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Nature and circumstances seemed to have made this man for this woman, and to have driven them towards one another. Together, the woman, nervous and dissembling, the man, lustful, living like an animal, they made a strongly united couple. They complemented one another, they protected one another. In the evening, at table, in the pale light of the lamp, you could feel the strength of the bond between them, seeing Laurent’s heavy, smiling face and the silent, impenetrable mask of Therese. – from Therese Raquin, page 43 -Therese Raquin is an unhappy, somber woman who has married her cousin, Camille – a sickly man who repulses her. They live together with Camille’s mother Mme Raquin in a dingy apartment in Paris and the joyless days crawl past, with the only interruption being a weekly Thursday night domino game with visitors. So when Camille’s co-worker and friend Laurent arrives one evening, it is not surprising that his ruddy good looks and easy-going nature gain Therese’s attention. Soon the two are engaged in an unseemly affair right beneath the noses of Camille and his mother. The affair becomes more and more passionate, and the two lovers hatch a scheme to rid themselves of Camille so that they can marry each other.Therese Raquin is a psychological thriller of sorts which explores the psyche of the criminal mind and seeks to examine the repercussions of a criminal act. The plot is simple and the novel takes place primarily in the dreary apartment of the Raquin’s. To fully understand the novel, the reader should understand some of the science of the time. Zola, at only twenty-seven years old when he published Therese Raquin, was interested in a theory of human psychology which was well-accepted in the mid-nineteenth century…namely that of human temperament being the key to understanding human behavior. Simply put, human temperament could be divided into four basic categories: bilious, sanguine, nervous and lymphatic. At the time of the writing of this novel, doctors believed a person’s temperament could be altered by circumstance. It is this idea which motivated Zola to write Therese Raquin. Faced with fierce criticism that the novel was pornographic and “putrid,” Zola added a preface to the second edition of the book where he writes:In Therese Raquin I set out to study temperament, not character. That sums up the whole book. I chose protagonists who were supremely dominated by their nerves and their blood, deprived of free will and drawn into every action of their lives by the predetermined lot of their flesh. – from the Preface of Therese Raquin, page 4 -Zola assigns Therese a nervous temperament which becomes inflamed when her love for Laurent is awakened.With the first kiss, she revealed the instincts of a courtesan. Her thirsting body gave itself wildly up to lust. It was as though she were awakening from a dream and being born to passion. She went from the feeble arms of Camille to the vigorous arms of Laurent, and the approach of a potent man gave her a shake that woke her flesh from its slumber. All the instincts of a highly-strung woman burst forth with exceptional violence. – from Therese Raquin, page 35-36 -Laurent, on the other hand, demonstrates a sanguine temperament.Underneath, he was lazy, with strong appetites and a well-defined urge to seek easy, lasting pleasures. His great, powerful body asked for nothing better than to lie idle, wallowing in constant indolence and gratification. – from Therese Raquin, page 28 -Zola uses the temperaments of the characters to demonstrate what happens when two people with these temperaments come together to commit a crime for their own personal gain. It is heady stuff.At its core, however, Therese Raquin is a classic tragedy. It is also a moral tale – examining the consequences of adultery and murder. Both Therese and Laurent are narcissists who fail to regret the evil of their actions. In pursuing their own selfish desires, they not only inflict cruelty on Mme Raquin (who loves and trust them), but they ruin their own lives in the process.Emile Zola’s writing is surprisingly accessible and modern given the time in history the story was penned. Zola quickly pulls the reader into the dark and despairing lives of his characters. This is far from an uplifting story – in fact, it is a rather depressing read. Despite that, I enjoyed getting inside the heads of these characters who are admittedly grotesque. Although psychology today does not agree with psychology in Zola’s time, some things do remain the same…namely that immoral behavior rarely results in happiness and violent crime is almost always punished, if only by the impact it has on the perpetrators’ psyche.Readers who enjoy classic literature, psychology, and crime novels will undoubtedly want to add Therese Raquin to their list of potential reads.Recommended.

[lauralkeet · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

In the preface to Thérèse Raquin, Emile Zola wrote,In a word, I wanted only one thing: given a powerful man and a dissatisfied woman, to search out the beast in them, and nothing but the beast, plunge them into a violent drama and meticulously note the feelings and actions of those two beings. I have merely performed on two living bodies the analytical work that surgeons carry out on dead ones. (p 4)The book was written in 1867, when psychology and behavioral studies focused largely on the idea of "temperament." Zola chose to examine how two individuals of different temperament would respond to a set of circumstances. Enter Thérèse, a young woman abandoned by her natural father, raised by her aunt (Madame Raquin), and married to her sickly cousin Camille. She worked as an assistant in her aunt's Paris haberdashery, and helped care for Camille. Life was dull, even stifling. Camille worked in a railway company office, and soon established a regular Thursday evening dinner with colleagues at his home. One of the guests, Laurent, was young and virile, and Thérèse was instantly attracted to him. The feeling was mutual, and they quickly found themselves entangled in a passionate affair.From this point Zola explored what two people of such temperaments might do to satisfy their desires. As Thérèse and Laurent's passions escalated, their actions became more rash, culminating in an unthinkable act. Zola meticulously dissected the couple's thoughts and actions, and the impact of the act on their relationship. Things turned quite dark at this point; the claustrophobia and fear were palpable. There was never any doubt in my mind how the story would end, and yet there was still an element of suspense.Zola's writing style is detached and analytical -- like a news reporter or scientist, reporting the facts without judgment -- but he also brought 1860s Paris to life, with settings modeled on popular paintings of the day. Despite the detached style, Thérèse Raquin was an excellent character study. I actually found Madame Raquin's character most intriguing. She's somewhat of a passive bystander, and yet as the situation escalates her passivity takes on a level of importance that I did not anticipate. This book was so well-written that I was quickly hooked.

[bellettres · Valutazione: 1 su 5 stelle]

If this had not been a selection of our book group, I would not have finished it. I think it might have been a better read in the original French, but this translation was stilted and repetitive. The characters do not seem real, nor do their actions. Their crime haunts them, but only because they both have unbelievably over-active imaginations. Zola certainly evokes the misery and the hopelessness of their lives, but I was hard-pressed to care. If this is classic literature, you can have it!

[chris_v_7 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Over 140 years old and Zola's novel still grips with it's stale and dank atmosphere of lust, betrayal and murder. Often copied but never bettered, the characters of Therese, Laurent, Camille and Madame Raquin will haunt your memory.

[hemlokgang · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

This is the first novel I have read in French for many years. It was fantastic! Great characters whom you love to hate, fabulous melodramatic plot, and as always with Zola, so much to think about. This novel covers the following themes: passion, choice, consequence, what is a human being?, and much more. It is so French. I realize a translation could not flow in the same way, because English and French represent such differing cultures!

[knittingfreak · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

I finished this book a while ago and just haven't had time to post about it. I've been busy knitting desperately trying to get some Christmas presents done. I really haven't been doing much reading at all. I have started a 'knitting novel' for one of my December book clubs, though.This novel by Emile Zola apparently caused quite a stir when it was first published in 1868. The novel tells the tragic story of Therese and her lover Laurent and the lengths that they go to in order to be together. For the time, the sex scenes were quite explicit, and the author was actually accused of pornography. I personally didn't think they were that explicit and don't think most people today would be offended by them. The Penguin Classics edition that I read contains a preface in which Zola defends his work against these accusations.Therese is taken in by a woman after she is orphaned and is raised with the woman's sickly son, Camille. It's just assumed by all that the two will marry one day, which they do. The three live a relatively happy life until Camille brings a young man home with him one day. Laurent awakens feelings in Therese that she has never experienced before. The two begin an affair and become obsessed with possessing each other. This is not a sweet story of a forbidden love. Instead, it quickly turns into a very dark tale, and Therese and Laurent find themselves in a living nightmare.

[rosecityreader · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Published in 1867, Thérèse Raquin is Emile Zola’s first novel and a magnificent proto-noir thriller. All the necessary elements are here -- a hot-to-trot young wife, an invalid husband, a greedy lover – all simmered together in a Parisian stew of lust, murder, deception, debauchery, and guilt. With the macabre ghoulishness of Poe and the diabolical desperation of Cain, Thérèse Raquin should be on any noir-lover's bookshelf.

[mabe_10 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Zola painted Camille as a man devoid of redeeming features. We were routing for Laurant to finish him off so that he and Thesese could indulge their passion. However, when the moment came it was truly horrible. The downward and agonising descent into madness and eventual mutual suicide was difficult to read.

[williamcostiganjr · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

This is really a dreary book. Zola never lets up. I felt kinda "eh" about this novel, but it's a quick read and holds one's interest.It's humorless and not very enjoyable though, so I'd probably pass if I were you.However, if you are ever considering committing a crime this book will change your mind in a flash.

[terris-7 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

What an amazing story of a pair of lovers who decide to kill the woman's husband -- and they get away with it! -- Or do they?! Very, very interesting concept -- I loved it!