Drunkard by Emile Zola

The hardest part about this phenomenal read was actually finding it. I searched libraries, bookstores, online, etc. to no avail and ended up getting a very old, very used paperback from Australia as a gift.

Why this masterpiece was so difficult to find is a conundrum I could not solve. I don’t sing its praises lightly and believe it deserves to be on the top of every bibliophile’s reading list.

Zola takes his reader down, way down, into the Parisian gutter to see people at their very worst. Its central character is a laundress abandoned with her young son by her lover. As she tries desperately to better her position, her inability to see those decent from those indecent lead to her inevitable downfall.

Gervaise, the laundress, is cruelly nicknamed Clop clop due to her lame leg, by her frugal in-laws. Her well intentioned attempt at running a successful business fails when she excuses inexcusable behavior by those around her and succumbs to her own gluttonous and hedonistic whims.

The ex lover of Gervaise, Lantier, turns up and manages to ingratiate himself to all. His cunning charms and self serving schemes seem to come off without anyone noticing the detriments he leaves behind. A cad if ever there was one.

The tinsmith, Coupeau pursues Gervaise who eventually relents and marries him. While he initially appears to be a hard working and devoted husband, an accident leads to his downward spiral into unrestrained drinking and eventual alcoholic dementia.

Goujet, the blacksmith, aka Guele-d’Or (yellow beard) is the only sympathetic character to be found. He adores Gervaise and assists her financially and takes her son in to learn his trade. His honorable character prevents him from any aggressive pursuit and his one attempt to sway Gervaise away from her current situation fails. When he eventually sees Gervaise at her lowest point, the shared shame they both feel acknowledge they will never meet again.

Quotes:

While the storm had been raging, she had sat there with her eyes fixed on the clouds, as if she were looking into the future, seeing distant things, of grave import, in the vivid flashes of lightning.

She was absorbed in the hundreds of pins fastening on the lace, and she felt happy at being there, breathing the good, cleanly odour of the place, into which the delicate work brought a sort of meditative silence.

And in his delight at merely being alive, he loved to lounge about doing nothing, his muscles relaxed into a peaceful slumber; it was like the slow inroad of idleness, which profited by his convalescence to soak him, drowning him delightfully.

And the great kiss that they exchanged, mouth to mouth, in the midst of the dirty things, was like a first step in the slow, downward course of their life.

However unlucky you may be, there are always good times now and then when you can get on even with the people you detest.

Yes, she had come to that; that revolts one’s dainty notions no doubt; but if one had eaten nothing for three days, we should see if dainty notions would hold their own against the needs of the stomach; or if one wouldn’t rather go on all fours and eat dirt like the rest.

A wine shop would aptly serve as a meeting place with Mr. Zola and we’d be sure to avoid the brandy. I’d love to ask him how he was able to be so descriptive with the workings of a laundry, tinsmith and blacksmith. Its evident he did not live a charmed life, but lived as those he writes about.

My rating for Drunkard  is a 10 out of 10.

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