How To Be Unhappy: Madame Bovary

As I’ve mentioned before, I spent the summer reading Madame Bovary in French, trying to make up for not reading it when I was supposed to in college, along with boosting my language skills. I was very happy to have some company on this challenge, notably Emma of Words and Peace, a native speaker and teacher who is always so supportive of my French-reading efforts, and Deb of ReaderBuzz, who amazed me with her determination to make it through, as she’s teaching herself the language. (She kept a translation alongside, but was able to read much of the book in French.)

In our Discord discussion group, Deb made a comment I found brilliantly encapsulated the essence of this reading experience:

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Madame Bovary, from the point of view of someone who has studied happiness for many years, did everything wrong.

1. She compared her life to that of others, and found her life lacking.
2. She bought things to make her feel better.
3. She couldn’t seem to take joy in the husband she had.
4. She couldn’t seem to take joy in the child she had.
5. She could not find her life’s purpose.
6. She did not realize that initial joy eventually fades because the constant search for happiness leads to a hedonistic treadmill.
7. She centered her life on herself, and never focused on others.
8. She had no social support.
9. She did not practice gratitude.
10. She missed out on simple joys.

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“It’s a cautionary tale,” Deb concluded.

Indeed, Emma Bovary spends the book in a fruitless and ultimately fatal pursuit of happiness. What can this teach us, members of a civilization that has been engaging in such a pursuit for centuries, and is now on the brink of extinction?

Flaubert’s book was found scandalous at the time of publication for frankly featuring a woman’s infidelity to her husband, but I think the greater infidelity is to her own spiritual center. Through her, Flaubert points obliquely to a wider lack of moral integrity in the culture in which she is embedded, an emptiness that encouraged her frantic search for fulfillment. She is a symptom, not the originating cause of this malaise. And its continuing unfolding can be seen all around us, in our consumer-oriented, pleasure-obsessed society that seems to be growing more depressed and anxious by the day.

The book was an instant “succes de scandale,” but its continuing fascination can no longer be attributed to outraged morals. We need to look more deeply into what caused Emma to become, essentially, an addict: addicted to sex with men who didn’t truly care for her, to her delusional notion of “love”, and to consuming material things beyond her ability to pay for them.

In fact, it was being a shopaholic, not an adulterer, that led to Emma’s suicide, and perhaps that’s what early moralists actually objected to; she was never suitably punished for her crime, nor repentant for it. Her infidelity is not uncovered until she’s died and been buried, upon which her loving, stupid husband Charles also dies, apparently of a broken heart. Meanwhile, the moneylending merchant who deliberately sucked Emma dry, along with the quack pharmacist who usurped Charles’s business as a doctor, prosper exceedingly.

Flaubert’s cynical critique of the society emerging out of the industrial revolution points up the emptiness at its core, its lack of spiritual substance. Religion is repeatedly presented as ineffectual, hypocritical, and obtuse; perhaps the most powerful example is when Emma and her prospective lover Leon meet up in a cathedral, where Emma vaguely intends to nobly renounce temptation. A priest insists on showing them around the building, oblivious to the mounting sexual tension, until Leon impatiently drags Emma away for their famous carriage ride through the streets of Rouen.

“What is a Christian?” is heard in another scene, in ironic counterpoint to Emma’s inner struggles. Another priest has been blind to her need for help, brushed her off and turned away to instruct some naughty children in their catechism. The mindless repeating of platitudes, clearly, is powerless to help us in our real dilemmas. But no other help is offered to Emma, and she inexorably descends into the abyss.

The most telling incident, to me, was again not related to Emma’s infidelity, but to her wish to make her husband into something he is not, so that she can respect and love him according to her inflated romantic ideals. Wanting him to become a famous, groundbreaking doctor, she pushes him to perform an experimental surgery on a clubfooted boy. The foot turns gangrenous and the leg has to be amputated, leaving the boy worse off than before.

Charles is devastated and guilty, but Emma takes no responsibility. She only condemns Charles all the more for being so incompetent. Her refusal to see her equal role in the disaster is what truly damns her, in my opinion. When we cannot see the harm we do and humbly resolve to make amends, changing ourselves so that others may suffer less, we turn to the siren call of evil. Emma’s passionate pursuit of “love” is revealed as a complete sham, for there is no true love without responsibility.

I found myself both bored and fascinated by this tale, frustrated by Emma and her lack of moral center, not wanting to sympathize or identify with her. Yet in the end, I had to recognize that I, too, can be pulled away from my truest desires and fall into the same kind of trap, even if on a less dramatic scale. I frequently cause harm to people through my coldness and indifference, as she has harmed and been harmed in that way as well. What is needed is not to condemn any one, but to wake up to that vicious, sick cycle and start to see each other more truly. To be Christian in a real sense, perceiving the living, suffering core of humanity in every person, and making ourselves vulnerable enough to honestly share our own human core.

Then we will find ourselves able to ask for and receive what we need, and not become trapped in a cycle of unfulfilled desire. We will practice the opposite of Emma’s recipe for unhappiness:

• We will not compare our lives to others and find it lacking.
• We will not need to buy things to make us feel better.
• We will accept people as they are, knowing we cannot change them, only ourselves.
• We will take joy in the children in our lives, letting them know that they are accepted and beloved.
• We will find our life’s purpose.
• We will realize that initial joy eventually fades because the constant search for happiness leads to a hedonistic treadmill.
• We will care truly about others and not be solely self-preoccupied.
• We will acknowledge and meet our fundamental human need for social support.
• We will experience and practice gratitude.
• We will find fulfillment in simple joys.

When I’m tempted to do the things that make me unhappy, I’ll try to remember this cautionary tale.