Bel-Ami

by Guy de Maupassant

translated by Margaret Mauldon

Georges Duroy, the "Bel-Ami" of the title, is a former officer stationed in North Africa who arrives in Paris penniless, and without prospects, but handsome, alluring, and ambitious. A chance encounter with Forestier, an old army comrade, earns him a job at the newspaper "La Vie Française," where he learns to be as cynical and jaded as his fellow journalists. His gratitude for this favor is short-lived, as he quickly gives way to his insatiable desire to climb the social ladder and bed women. Before long, Duroy is using his charm, wit, and extraordinary success with wealthy women to climb Parisian society, pursuing money and influence with ruthless determination. He begins an affair with Forestier's wife, moving on (but never quite relinquishing either) when another woman offers a more tantalizing prospect. Each promotion, conquest, or fortune merely fuels his envy and greed. The nickname "Bel-Ami" ("beautiful friend") is deeply ironic. Duroy's beauty is only skin-deep, and he is a friend to no one but himself.

For a novel published in 1885, the book feels remarkably modern. Rather than offering a virtuous hero or an obvious moral lesson, Maupassant presents an utterly amoral opportunist and simply lets him succeed, scandalizing his readers. Duroy seduces, manipulates, blackmails, and betrays his way upward, while the novel implicitly condemns society itself for rewarding exactly these qualities. It's difficult to think of many nineteenth-century, or even modern, protagonists as selfish and narcissistic as Duroy, and Maupassant never softens him to win our sympathy. The novel is equally scathing about the institutions surrounding him. Journalism, politics, finance, and colonial policy are shown to be deeply intertwined, with newspapers shaping public opinion to enrich a privileged few. One wonderfully cynical exchange has an experienced reporter admit that he never bothers interviewing foreign dignitaries at all; he simply recycles old articles and changes the names. It's a biting satire of journalism that feels surprisingly relevant today. Despite that modernity, part of the fun for the reader is entering Maupassant's Belle Époque Paris. Maupassant's keen prose vividly recreates the parties, the fashionable salons, cafés, the Folies Bergère, and the countryside. Contemporary details like the construction of the Métro and France's colonial ambitions in Algeria give the novel a rich sense of place. Maupassant's greatest strength, however, lies in his understanding of human behavior. He precisely observes vanity, envy, desire, and self-deception. Duroy himself is fascinating, but the women around him are every bit as compelling, each navigating shifting power dynamics in different ways. Their relationships with Duroy are often more emotionally complex than his own calculating view of them, another way in which the novel is strikingly modern. More than 140 years after its publication, its portrait of ambition, corrupt journalism, transactional relationships, political manipulation, and the seductive pursuit of wealth is contemporary and compelling. 

four stars 

The Kings of the Wyld

by Nicholas Eames

Twenty years ago, Saga, the greatest of all the "bands" (groups of mercenary adventurers in the Dungeons and Dragons style) fought and rose to great heights, then faded away. Now, twenty years later, they are just five aging, past-their-prime men scattered over the land, having lost touch. Clay "Slowhand" Cooper, who uses a formidable mystical shield, is retired with a family in Coverdale. Their frontman, Gabriel, a.k.a. "Golden Gabe," arrives unexpectedly to beg Clay for help: his daughter, Rose, is trapped in a distant city besieged by an innumerable army of various monsters. Reluctantly, Clay joins him and they gather the others: Moog, a klutzy wizard; the dagger-wielding, drunk, overweight, henpecked Matrick, who has become a cuckolded king; and Ganelon, the deadly swordsman whom they all left behind, to their shame. They embark on a quest across a monster-filled forest known as the Heartwyld. If the army of monsters wasn't enough to fear, they also encounter an old enemy, Lastleaf, an immortal Druin (think: Dark Elf) who bears quite a grudge against them.

As is obvious from the nicknames, the story treats mercenary groups like rock stars who draw massive crowds and inspire epic ballads. It's an amusing premise, and the book has flashes of genuine humor and excitement. Unfortunately, it didn't click for me. The "rock star" metaphor is tired and never really quite fits in a fantasy setting, but that's a minor quibble. The real problem is the laziness of the world-building. Time and again, the novel resolves obstacles through convenient contrivances rather than believable storytelling. The band has supposedly been out of contact for decades, yet Moog suddenly remembers a magical portal directly to Matrick's castle, a portal that also deposits them at precisely the moment an assassin strikes. Other ideas are introduced only to fizzle out. The entire country is plagued by a deadly and incurable disease called "rot" that is meant to be an emotionally-resonant plot arc, but it proves to be of no consequence. Matrick is depicted as terribly out of shape, but when the fighting starts, he is a veritable superhuman, as are they all; their age and rustiness, though often referred to, barely affect them. None of the wounds or sacrifices the band makes ever stick; there are therefore no stakes, and no suspense. Even the comedy often misses its mark. Moog's insistence that owlbears are real is treated with derision, as if he's insane, but they live in a world populated by literally any kind or combination of monster imaginable; the joke just has no place to land. Or the conceit that Saga's bards always die on quests, so they've had dozens over the years!  Spinal Tap got there first. Eames is trying to have it both ways here, a fantasy-setting Hitchhiker's Guide and the high fantasy of a Joe Abercrombie. The result is certainly entertaining in places, but I found its clever premise resting on a foundation too flimsy to support the adventure it wanted to tell. 

two stars