I just finished Adam and Eve and I must say it was an interesting read. I'm quite surprised, though, for it's totally unlike Rebreanu's first two novels.
I appreciated the author's imaginative skill at work in this novel--there are many characters, events, and circumstances--and yet he sought to unify the seven short stories by threading them with a common plot structure. Though this is ingenious, I must say I found it bland after two or three stories. The characters, for the most part, lack depth and credibility, and though the embodiments are in different centuries and social strata, I would have liked to see a more common personality or at least one or two characteristics to unify the person. Theoretically, the novel is about two characters in different lives, but practically, it read like fourteen characters acting out the same script with different props.
Not to say the novel is poorly written. Not at all. It's an enjoyable read and quite a refreshing change after some of Rebreanu's more heavy writing. But I can understand why critics would not give considerable attention to this novel.
(It would be interesting, however, to study the thread of Christianity throughout this novel. It seems like Rebreanu has an overall negative view of Christianity, a view that resurfaces to some degree in each of his novels. Since this one spans the length of time, I wonder what he's trying to do with religion in it.)
I don't know really what else to say about this one. Any thoughts, anyone?
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When I first began reading, I looked for additional connections between the narratives. I thought there might be a deeper connection between Aleman and the male protagonist, but I didn’t see any. It does seem as if Rebreanu could have done more. I mentioned in an e-mail how this story reminded my of Tezuka’s manga Apollo’s Song. Each section in the manga is also rather repetitive as a young man slowly learns how to love.
ReplyDeleteI agree Rebreanu seems to cast Christianity in a negative light, most notably in the Adeodatus/Maria chapter. Adeodatus is presented as miserable, reclusive, judgmental, and fearful of the physical world. He is incapable of human relationships and is easily the most pathetic incarnation of the male protagonist. He never truly lives. When Adeodatus is contrasted with Gaston, the novel’s anti-Christian perspective is more clearly illustrated. Gaston, the kind-hearted atheist doctor whose concern for the poor supersedes any desire to turn a profit, is quite different from the reclusive Adeodatus who eventually preferred isolation from the world (though Adeodatus in his younger days did venture out to bury those who had been killed by the Plague). (Hmm. . . Maybe it would be interesting to try to draw some connections between Adeodatus and Gaston after all).
It would be interesting to dig into Gaston's morality. He seems to assume certain moral stances but provides no basis for those stances. He seems to accept an objective morality for some things while rejecting the transcendent objective authority to make such judgments possible.
It is interesting to note that many of the characters in the Yvonne chapter were historical figures associated with the French Revolution’s Reign of Terror: Maximilien Robespierre and Joseph Lebon in particular. Lebon was, in fact, once a fanatical priest who apostatized and became a terrifying figure in Arras as he had many people guillotined.
Do you find any significance in the color of the women's eyes, usually green, sometimes blue?
ReplyDeleteGreat thoughts, Mr. Clark! I hadn't thought of contrasting Adeodatus and Gaston, but when I read what you wrote about them, it seems like the two do illuminate Rebreanu's strong feelings about Christianity. I found it particularly disturbing that Adeodatus was attracted to Maria, as in the Virgin Mary. (Does that even count for the plot's purposes? Mustn't the woman's soul be embodied as well?) And Gaston, ironically enough, finds his soulmate in a nun, at the very end of their narrative.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if there is significance in the color of women's eyes, but that would be something for further research. Romanian women have, for the most part, hazel eyes, yet occasionally there are green- and blue-eyed women as well. However, I remember researching the significance of blue eyes in the Renaissance period for one of my lit classes last semester, and some scholars seem to believe that blue eyes were a sign that the woman was a witch. (Dealing specifically with Sycorax, the "blue-eyed hag" from Shakespeare's "The Tempest.") Alternately, blue eyes were considered the most beautiful, but may have also been connected to a certain moral weakness on the woman's part, especially concerning her fidelity.
I don't know if Rebreanu was aware of these Renaissance conventions or not, and I'm a little rusty on the details, so I would double-check everything I've written.
In what concerns the women's fidelity, I find it interesting that in most of the narratives the male is already married (and occasionally happily so) when he finds his soulmate, most often an unmarried virgin. Does this say anything about different moral standards?