Books |
Elective Affinities
Goethe
By
Published: Jul 19, 2015
Category:
Fiction
The greatest writer of his time enters into a late-life marriage that tests his recent and unfamiliar commitment to monogamy.
That’s a novel waiting to happen.
Goethe is the writer, and “Elective Affinities” is that novel.
Original? Challenging? Readable? All of the above — and compared to the love stories pumped out by contemporary writers, blazingly erotic. Not in a Tab A/Slot B way, but in the head, where real eroticism burns hottest.
Consider: Eduard and Charlotte were thwarted from marriage and had to marry others, but as soon as they were free again, they declared undying love. He’s a baron, and wealthy — he and Charlotte are spending blissful months planting gardens, entertaining friends, and just generally throwing off sparks of wedded bliss.
“There is nothing of more significance in any situation than the intervention of a third party,” Goethe writes, and so he produces one —the Captain, a dashing young friend of Eduard’s who is between homes. Charlotte would prefer that he not join their household. Eduard, as Goethe notes, “was not used to denying himself anything.” So… bring on the Captain….
Then we learn that Charlotte’s niece Ottilie is not doing well at boarding school; Charlotte and Eduard add her to their household.
An older husband and a young wife. A handsome man and a ravishing girl. In chemistry, as the Captain explains, elements recombine. And so, too, in human affairs — elective affinities. Soon it’s Eduard and Ottilie, the Captain and Charlotte.
This is not a novel about swapping. Set at the beginning of the 19th century, it’s a tale of secret notes, walks in the garden, witty remarks at dinner. Actual sex? It’s so meaningful that it’s some sort of grail — and that anticipation inspires each character to new heights of desire. [To buy the paperback from Amazon, click here. For the Kindle edition, click here. ]
Eduard will risk all to be with Ottilie. Charlotte is made of stronger stuff, as is the Captain — they know that the passion they feel must be extinguished, and not just for appearances. As a friend lectures them, “ “Marriage is the beginning and pinnacle of civilization.” The impulse to stray? “Let the moment pass, and you will count yourself happy that what has so long stood firm still stands.”
But do they? It would be a short novel if they did. Goethe’s point is not that we are prisoners of fate, but slaves of desire — we want what we want, however high the price. And in this novel, the price is very, very high.
Goethe’s prose is stunningly modern; his people are driven by notions you’ll have no trouble understanding. Of course there are also discussions of gardens and pathways and views that are certain to bore most readers; feel free not to read every word. And you can skim the last hundred pages without missing much. But the first half of this book — the tale that shows how a spark catches, the way passion is ignited — is universal and eternal and full of ideas you’ll think about when your eye wanders.
Not a bad achievement for a novel published in 1809.
