Corinne Ou L Italie

Corinne is an interesting book, indeed. I can't think of many books which might stimulate more lively discussions between male and female readers. And so, I report the reactions of a male reader (MR). No MR with any degree of discernment can read this book without being irresistibly attracted to Corinne, who is accomplished, intelligent, independent, creative and cultivated, and is beautiful, rich and virtuous to boot. (No Paris Hilton, she!) Nor can the MR help but take an immediate dislike (tinged with jealousy, perhaps) for the complete stiff, Lord Nelvil, for whom Corinne dies of unrequited love. Midway through the book, the MR gets angry, saying "C'mon, no REAL Corinne would put up with this guy." Or, "If I were Corinne's beau, I would never treat her that way." So, the MR (especially if he has lived in and loves Italy) consoles himself with the fascinating travelogue aspects of the book, which not only describe Italy as it was in 1807, but if you add autostrade, calcio and TV to the mix, perfectly and beautifully describes Italy as it is today. But then, having thought it over and perhaps discussed the matter with a significant other, the MR realizes that he has known accomplished, intelligent, cultivated and attractive women who have damaged their lives chasing after the knuckleheaded Nelvils of our current world--and indeed, chasing after far worse men than he. Projection, in the Jungian sense, damages many a life, as does its near cousin, the fatal attraction of opposites. The MR then realizes that Mme. de Stael is on to something, and he wonders if perhaps she hasn't completely nailed down (albeit with near-Sturm und Drang hyperventilation characteristic of the times) the psychology of a superior but lonely woman in the company of inferior men. The MR can only speculate, however, since his brain and heart are thoroughly infected with the y-chromosome. Hmm, thinks the MR--if Mme. de Stael knows something of female psychology, what can she also tell me about male psychology? Thinking it over some more, the MR begins to realize that Mme. de Stael has thought deeply about and has much to say on the subject. The MR begins to pity Nelvil, and he begins to pity himself. What man in his early adulthood with a strong father has not been deeply influenced by his father and failed on occasion to follow his own true self? What man has not blundered about in his youth, missed opportunities, and failed to recognize fool's gold for what it was? In the final sentence of the book, Mme. de Stael says of Nelvil and indeed, all men who miss life's opportunities by conforming to others' expectations: "I want neither to blame nor absolve him." This book, of course, also works on a whole different level--that of allegory. We lovers of Italy will all agree that Corinne is perfectly cast as the personification of Italy itself. Nelvil is also cast as the personification of England. (Or is he Scotland--Mme. de Stael is vague on this poi