Afloat • Guy de Maupassant

After being thoroughly delighted by Guy de Maupassant’s A Life, I immediately picked up Afloat. In fact, I’ve now gotten all the classics from mare’s slipcase series, because every single one so far has been without exception simply excellent. I’ve already read seven books; the rest are definitely on my list for this year. I already have August Strindberg’s By the Open Sea here, and I’m saving it for my summer vacation.

If you’ve read my reviews of the other books in the series, you’ll probably roll your eyes now, because I write the same thing every time about the production. But it’s true: this book is once again downright classy. The cover has that elegant sheen; the binding and the book itself feel high-quality. What I particularly like about mare’s slipcase series is the paper. It’s a minor detail, really, but this stock is wonderfully smooth and simply feels good when you turn the pages. Anyone who reads only ebooks should absolutely hold a book like this in their hands.

However, the production quickly fades beside the content. When I pulled the book out of the mail, I was disappointed: the little volume is only 192 pages, and the main text just 141 pages. But those few pages pack a punch—Maupassant delivers a first-rate masterpiece. 141 pages brimming with ideas, provocations, and apt, elegant turns of phrase. I read very slowly so as not to miss the many nuances, to soak up and savor this wonderful text. Here’s a picture of all the markers I used to flag the countless passages worth copying out.

In this book, Maupassant describes a nine-day journey along the French Riviera, the Côte d’Azur, sailing his small yacht, the Bel-Ami, exploring hidden coves, admiring several major cities, visiting tucked-away corners, and of course enjoying the sea—the beautiful Mediterranean. It’s written in a relaxed first-person voice and presented as a sort of diary, a travelogue. He describes his impressions—his fascination with nature, the sea, and the gorgeous landscape—eloquently, in clear, vivid, tangible prose.

As soon as we were in the channel between the harbor mole and the mighty fortress, the yacht picked up speed with more eagerness and seemed to come to life, to be in the mood. She danced upon the countless flat, gentle waves, furrowing a boundless plain. Leaving the still waters of the harbor, she felt the life of the sea. (p. 13)

He takes the reader along on his journey, carries you off in his little nutshell of a boat, and lets you sink into the unique mood of this lovely stretch of coast. Along the way he sprinkles in numerous anecdotes—sadly, not always true. For instance, he relates a little tale about the violinist and composer Paganini that demonstrably isn’t factual, though it is a pleasure to read. He doesn’t just muse on that, though; he reflects on people, society, politics, Southerners, the culture of the region, art, and of course the French.

What fascinated me most were the autobiographical passages. Maupassant’s way of thinking became palpable for me, and suddenly I found myself in so many of his thoughts—in the personality of this great writer. His way of looking at people—with disgust, with deep aversion and skepticism. Like an outsider, someone who doesn’t belong and yet is still part of this society, and cannot and does not want to live without it. Someone who criticizes and is so reflective that he doesn’t spare himself. He may come across as a bit haughty—some call him a snob—looking down from a certain prosperity; but in the end he stands in the crowd himself, part of that stinking, contemptible rabble, and he knows it.

Conversation—what is it? A mystery! It is the art of never seeming boring, of being able to say everything with engagement, to please with anything at all, to seduce with nothing. (p. 110)

What truly convinced me were the themes bursting with relevance that he articulates so deftly and intelligently. Much of it can be projected unchanged onto today’s society, and I was strangely moved that someone nearly 140 years ago carried thoughts so similar to my own.

Beyond that, he offers intriguing insights into his thinking, revealing a person who likes to be alone, to keep to himself; whom society always makes a bit uneasy; who nevertheless needs people and their love. Fears and longings—and a certain insecurity—are the undertones that hum quietly between the lines, and at times emerge clearly and loudly.

When, as today, the weather is fine, I feel in my veins the blood of lascivious, wandering old fauns; I am no longer the brother of men, but the brother of all beings and all things! (p. 55)

Particularly interesting in this little volume are the notes and the afterword, which—as in A Life—was written by Julian Barnes. While reading, I kept noticing that this seemingly casual diary gives a very controlled impression. The afterword confirmed that, and if you know the authors of that era, it’s clear they pulled out all the stops. Dumas, too, often tried to give his texts an air of authenticity while freely dipping into the bag of tricks. So did Maupassant, who drew here on a whole wealth of previously published pieces. Barnes even accuses him of presenting “a mixture stirred together from various sources” (p. 202). That’s likely true, but it doesn’t diminish the high quality and the fascination of the many thoughts he presents here so masterfully.

Verdict: Maupassant wrote numerous outstanding works. For me, this book is the crowning touch—the cherry on top—of the literary output of one of the great 19th-century authors. The many personal reflections, anecdotes, depictions of society, Maupassant’s view of art, and of course his impressions of nature, the sea, the lovely Mediterranean make this book a very special journey. I immersed myself completely in it, and this beautiful edition is a must for anyone who loves literature and the sea.

Book information: Afloat • Guy de Maupassant • mare Verlag • 192 pages • ISBN 9783866481664