Sunday, February 22, 2015
Are you truly kind?
I don’t know if it’s just me, but the majority of the characters in Suite Française seem extremely superficial. The first things the wealthy think about when packing up their possessions is their jewelry. There is a clear distinction made between what the poor and the rich do in time of hardship. Némirovsky describes Madame Péricand as benevolent and giving but there is an implication that her actions are superficial. It is as if Madame Péricand truly believes that she is being a good person, but Némirovsky knows this isn’t true.
I loved Chapter 10 of Suite Française. I love the progression you can see in the characters once they realize the severity of the situation. I also love the way Madame Péricand’s true colors shine once she is no longer in her perfect middle-class world where everything is great. First of all she only decides to talk to the boy and his family because her “experienced eye” informs her that they come from a good family. Then she involves her children. At first she encourages them to share by insinuating: “You know very well you should share with those less fortunate than you. Now is the time to put into practice what you have learned at catechism.” But by the end she reprimands her children for sharing and, “Christian charity, the compassion of centuries of civilisation, fell from her like useless ornaments, revealing her bare, arid soul.” I appreciate this chapter because it starts to reveal her true character and is also very true to life. We never know how we are going to respond in certain situations, but I think we often overestimate our goodness. We think that if we are struggling we will still help others who are struggling as well, but usually human nature compels us to care for our own people first and foremost.
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This is so interesting, Alejandra. I went and got a part of an article I wrote, on charity in French literature and I'm pasting it here: I wonder what you think?
ReplyDeleteThe sympathetic affect depends on the reader/viewer’s disposition to self-improvement and ability to imagine a different life. Similarly, inciting people to perform acts of generosity relies on the reader/viewer’s belief in bienfaisance and confidence in their fellow men, both of which were in the eighteenth century—and remain today—what philosopher Michael Walzer calls “thin abstractions.” They are “thin” because their power to convince depends upon commanding the loyalty of more substantive local identities. In order to be an effective force for reform, their agents must possess and remain committed to a high level of education, altruism, and follow-through. As Walzer writes, “Most people most of the time do not see others, in context, as carriers of value; [those] qualities … depend on many converging conditions to survive.” The passages discussed below put that problem center-stage, and they do so in a witty fashion that reminds readers that error, the vicissitudes of daily life, and people’s propensity to change their minds, are equally inherent facets of human existence as altruism and fellow-feeling. Because they are so infuriating and hard to deal with, these less admirable aspects of behavior must be included in the study of humanitarianism.
"Is Charity for Schmucks? The Legitimacy of Bienfaisance ca. 1760-82 and ca. 2014" forthcoming _The Eighteenth Century: Theory and Interpretation spring 2016.