A stupendous shit and an incorrigible cad.
Not the first sign of madness, but the protagonist Georges Duroy.
His blatantly ironic nickname, Bel-Ami, typifies the duplicity coursing through this deliciously unsettling book.
His secret to success in four words? Use your wily willy. Five? Erm. Get off to get on.
Well, well, old boy, I hope you realise you really do hit it off with the ladies? You must cultivate that. It could take you far… they’re still the quickest way to succeed.
And boy, does he slather on the ‘charm’. It’s a shame to see it abused so. And the trust that goes with it. Makes you shiver.
But before we look at some gems, let’s put down a marker and reflect on author Laurie Lee’s sense of pure charm (from his excellent 1975 collection of essays, I Can’t Stay Long).
Charm in a man, I suppose, is his ability to capture the complicity of a woman by a single-minded acknowledgement of her uniqueness…
… of being totally absorbed, of forgetting that anyone else exists…
… it’s what a man says that counts, the bold declarations, the flights of fancy, the uncovering of secret virtues…
… [it] strikes deepest when a woman’s imagination is engaged, with herself as the starting point, when she is made part of some divine extravaganza…
… a woman is charmed by what she hears...
So. Here’s Bel-Ami. Being cheesy about a lady’s earring.
It’s charming,… but the ear must take some of the credit, too.
When I love a woman, everything else vanishes apart from her.
Sir Percy Squirm.
And here’s His Oilyness pecking hands.
He kissed them one after the other and then, raising his eyes, he said simply: “Heavens, if only I’d met a woman like you, how happy I would’ve been to marry her!”
Le beurre ne fondrait pas dans sa bouche. (Good, eh?)
But to be honest, they’re all it. Boys and girls, some astute enough to clock it in others.
Feel the venom in this riposte to Bel-Ami from one of his long-time tootsies, Madame de Marelle. Makes your eyes sting.
You’ve behaved like an utter cad ever since we’ve known each other… you go around deceiving and exploiting everyone and everybody [ouch], you take your pleasure when and where you like and money from anyone who’ll give you it and you still want me to treat you like a gentleman.
Yee-haw. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. (Must remember to do the dishes.)
Semi-Autobiographical of Maupassant? Perhaps. The pox boxed him.
Thanks for being here.
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