February 2019 book review, part 2

LOST ILLUSIONS, by Honore de Balzac
A talented, if somewhat immature young man living in the French provinces would go to Paris, get his novel published and thereby make a name for himself. A local noblewoman takes a shine to the poet, in no small part because of his extravagant good looks; even takes him to Paris with her, but there is advised she is hanging out with a country bumpkin and promptly drops him. Swearing revenge, Lucien, for lo that is his name, against the advice of friends who want him to basically starve in his garret to produce deathless verse, instead decides to go into that execrable profession: journalism. His talent soon shows through, invoking the jealousy of his fellow scribblers who decide to take him down a peg or two. Meanwhile, he leaves behind his friend and benefactor, who struggles to make ends meet with his printing press while sending money to him on a regular basis.

There are comparisons to be drawn with Balzac and his contemporary across La Manche, Charles Dickens. Both were prolific novelists, who often published their ripping yarns in serial form before releasing them as intact novels. Both addressed significant social issues of the day, and both filled their pages with colourful and sometimes despicable characters.
          What do readers look for in a good novel? I venture this: they want a rattling good yarn, skillfully told. In an outstanding novel they wish to see intricate plotting and superior characterization. But in a great novel they demand a further step: that the book contain some profound insight into the human condition or nature itself. This may be overt, or hidden with the plot itself. But it explains why there are a lot of decent novels, a few really good ones but only the barest handful of great ones. In a theoretical contest called “who’s the greater novelist: Dickens or Balzac?” The judges will find it hard to choose. But in this writer’s humble opinion, the award must go to Balzac. He has at least half a dozen great novels to his name, this one being in the list. Dickens, only one: Bleak House.