The Literature Network
Authors: 260
Books: 2,874
Poems & Short Stories: 3,828
Forum Members: 52,569
Forum Posts: 606,270
Subscribe for ad free access & additional features.
Teacher Accounts with student management and more.
Teacher Accounts with student management and more.
Abbe Mouret's Transgression
(1875)
This is the ninth novel in Zola's
Rougon-Macquart series,
translated by
Ernest Alfred Vizetelly (1853-1922).
~
Fan of this book? Help us introduce it to others by writing a better introduction for it. It's quick and easy, click here.
Quizzes on Abbe Mouret's Transgression
No quizzes available to take yet.
Please submit a quiz here.
Recent Forum Posts on Abbe Mouret's Transgression
Post a New Comment/Question on Abbe Mouret's Transgression
Book I
Book II
Book III
Attention Bookworms:
Buying from Amazon.com? Check out the Amazon Coupons first so you get the best deal.
Shakespeare wrote over 150 sonnets!
Join our Sonnet-A-Day Newsletter and read them all, one at a time. As Seen In: USA Today "Hot Sites"
Join our Sonnet-A-Day Newsletter and read them all, one at a time. As Seen In: USA Today "Hot Sites"
one of the most beautiful things i've ever read
I wonder that this isn't 10,000 times more popular than it is. I've only read it in English, but still -- it's amazing. It's like a depressive fairy tale (which isn't far from most fairy tales anyway), surreal and heady and intoxicating. It's the story of a preist who falls in love and is forever tortured by it; it's the story of the girl he is never able to fully love because he is always torn towards his idea of God. Here are some quotes that I noted for their particular beauty: So he left her at the end of the garden, sitting in the sunlight on the ground before a hive, whence the bees buzzed like golden berries round her neck, along her bare arms and in her hair, without thought of stinging her. * 'I should like to be a child once more. I should like to be always a child, walking in the shadow of your gown. When I was quite little, I clasped my hands when I uttered the name of Mary. My cradle was white, my body was white, my every thought was white. * And I will rise to your mouth like a subtle flame * He loved God with a love that lifted him out of himself, out of all else, and wrapped him round with a dazzling radiance of glory. He was like a torch that burns away with blazing light. And death seemed to him to be only a great impulse of love.
Posted By Cien at Fri 23 Feb 2007, 11:46 AM in Abbe Mouret's Transgression || 2 Replies