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  • Writer's picturelinnamoncinnamon

We are ALL Madame Bovary


It was a summer day. I was at home in my kitchen (probably eating). Suddenly, it dawned on me: we ARE all Madame Bovary.


Now, for those of you who haven’t yet had the pleasure nor opportunity to read the classic Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert, all I can say is this: it is LONG.


Before I delve into WHY we are all Madame Bovary, let me provide a little bit of context beforehand, hm?


Flashback to 11th grade English class, when we were assigned to read Madame Bovary with the option of it being one of the books we could write an essay on (I did in fact end up writing my essay based on the book, but that’s beside the point). I remember all of the groans whenever someone mentions the book. I remember all the laughs when people say they never finished reading it. I remember having to reread the middle section of the book because I had zoned out while “reading” it and I had no idea what was going on. Yes, the book was dull (for a reason, but I’m not here to explore that).


However painful it was to endure, it was more than worthwhile in the end. Because now I

understand.


Emma Bovary was many, many things. Of course, a significant number of adjectives used to describe her are negative: selfish, materialistic, irresponsible, immature, neurotic. I have also grown to see her positive traits though. She was a romantic, driven, and sentimental. She sought the things her life could not fulfil - keeping these hidden.

Sometimes I wonder if why we dislike is not only the way Flaubert characterizes her but also because we dislike in others what we dislike most about ourselves. Could it be that when we saw Emma Bovary, we saw what we worried ourselves of becoming? We saw what we didn’t want to be, what we didn’t want to do. We saw an extreme form of ourselves that we never want to see become a reality.


Emma was prone to escapism, as we all are. If we’re lucky, we do it in moderation. Watching a bit of Netflix, going to a party, shopping till we drop - all escapism! Emma took it to an extent that should never have been reached - trying to use romance as a means to escape from her dull life, cheating on her husband. Was she unfaithful? Yes. Did she really have a choice? She was trapped in a life she couldn’t escape from, her only chance at freedom confined to temporary affairs. She was stuck in a room, looking out of a window into the life she wanted but could never have.


Haven’t there been times in our lives where we felt trapped? Unable to do anything to better our situation? Almost desperate to find a way out, or at least something to ease the pain, the emptiness, whatever is missing and causing us to hurt.


In severe cases, what we do may not be wise, just, or even moral. We may lose sense of rationality - is the thrill worth it in the end? Oftentimes, it is not, and we learn that the hard way. We learn that we ultimately cannot always be satisfied and have to appreciate the things we have, for if we don’t…


I am not here to condone her actions, or to justify any of what she did. I merely seek to point out where she’s coming from, and how we are connected to her.

Of course, I at first was opposed to Emma. I empathized slightly with her - but could she not have done something else?


In a sense, I admire Emma Bovary. In the shadows, she had the bravery - or rebellious spirit - to attempt to find the passion she had been missing in her life. In the form of relationships and materials… she was excessive, that’s for sure. Does her desire for something more excuse her behaviour? No… but I think that’s the point. The struggles between emotion and reason, stability and adventure, following your heart and listening to your head… it was this struggle that lived within Emma Bovary, the fight within everyone.


Hopefully, not all of us are as excessive as her. Hopefully, not all of us are imprisoned in a cruel world, with a place in society that inhibits us from achieving our dreams. And hopefully, we aren’t stuck reading (or living) a dull, monotone life.


At the end of the day, whether you hate her or… dislike her, you realize that you understand her. And when you do, you come to the same conclusion that the author has: We are all Madame Bovary.

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