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Trevor's Reviews > Candide
Candide
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This is quite a remarkable book � a satirical attack on the notion that we live in the best of all possible worlds and that therefore all that happens in such a world invariably happens for the best. Voltaire is supposed to have written the whole thing in barely three days � a rather productive half-week.
What I found particularly interesting here was the discussion of war � how the horrors of war are presented in such an off-hand way and almost invariably the utter inhumanity of what is described (rape and even eating half of someone’s bum) is just chalked up to ‘the way things are�. The question of free will, human agency and responsibility for our actions � something that the notion of our living in the best of all possible worlds does much to undermine � is never far from the surface here, but invariably it remains just under the surface. This is a ‘show, don’t tell� book � even if the showing is heavy-handed in the extreme. It would take a particularly committed optimist to go through what the characters in this book do and come out the other end still thinking the world is beyond any possibility of improvement.
What I particularly liked, though, was the very end and the garden that is being tended. It is through Candide’s labours to create this garden that he finally finds some sense of human dignity, stability and even a kind of happiness. The book is otherwise the odyssey of a fool, but this final acceptance of life as struggle and a kind of stoic acceptance of the rewards that come from labour is quite a lovely thing, really. Even before I got to the end I kept thinking the whole way through the book about how different Eastern and Western notions of these things are and have been. When the Buddha was first confronted by the world outside his idyllic palace he realised life was suffering. It is odd that when we in the West are confronted with much the same vision of the world around us we all too often excuse that suffering as being necessary for the greater good. This little book by Voltaire shows such inhumanity isn’t a necessary assumption of the Western tradition, that sometimes even we can be shocked by the horrors we inflict on others and even humbled by suffering.
What I found particularly interesting here was the discussion of war � how the horrors of war are presented in such an off-hand way and almost invariably the utter inhumanity of what is described (rape and even eating half of someone’s bum) is just chalked up to ‘the way things are�. The question of free will, human agency and responsibility for our actions � something that the notion of our living in the best of all possible worlds does much to undermine � is never far from the surface here, but invariably it remains just under the surface. This is a ‘show, don’t tell� book � even if the showing is heavy-handed in the extreme. It would take a particularly committed optimist to go through what the characters in this book do and come out the other end still thinking the world is beyond any possibility of improvement.
What I particularly liked, though, was the very end and the garden that is being tended. It is through Candide’s labours to create this garden that he finally finds some sense of human dignity, stability and even a kind of happiness. The book is otherwise the odyssey of a fool, but this final acceptance of life as struggle and a kind of stoic acceptance of the rewards that come from labour is quite a lovely thing, really. Even before I got to the end I kept thinking the whole way through the book about how different Eastern and Western notions of these things are and have been. When the Buddha was first confronted by the world outside his idyllic palace he realised life was suffering. It is odd that when we in the West are confronted with much the same vision of the world around us we all too often excuse that suffering as being necessary for the greater good. This little book by Voltaire shows such inhumanity isn’t a necessary assumption of the Western tradition, that sometimes even we can be shocked by the horrors we inflict on others and even humbled by suffering.
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Reading Progress
Started Reading
January 16, 2013
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January 16, 2013
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literature
January 16, 2013
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religion
January 16, 2013
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philosophy
January 16, 2013
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Yes, I really think this is a great truth, Nicholas. Although, hard to imagine how we might give up theorising.
Excellent review. Candide is one of my favorite books. I might mildly disagree with you regarding your depiction of how Eastern and Western traditions reflect on suffering. It really depends on the prism one uses for defining the Western tradition. If one focuses on Augustine's City of God or Kempis' The Imitation of Christ or even from a non-religious view, Aurelious' Meditations or Boethius' The Consolations of Philosophy, the Western tradition is steeped in the acknowledgement of suffering as part of the human condition and developing meaning and human significance from our response to human suffering. There actually was a time in Western civilization where The Imitation of Christ was a popular, widely-read book. The fact that people now choose to read Fifty Shades of Gray instead does not destroy the tradition.
You are right, of course, Steve - and my knowledge of the Eastern tradition is so scant it should have made me pause before making such flippant generalisations.
I truly love this book. Besides reading it as a commentary on Leibnitz and his philosophy, I read it as an allegory of human life. I also like that Candide ends up leaving Western Europe completely to live in the Ottoman empire. I don't have an answer why Voltaire leaves him there in the end. Any ideas?Whenever I tend to my garden (and do I spend a lot of time there), I think of Candide.
The more I think of it the more I love the idea this book ends in a garden.
I read this one summer while I was in my early teens while I was studying in France. (It was bi-lingual, dont worry) Probably one of the funniest books I can recall during that time in my life. I found so much humor in the tragedy. Good thing too because my life has already been an odyssey in its own right. This book taught me at a young age that you never do know what could come of you and that it is better to keep your pride and self-respect than become engulfed in any amoral plans for wealth and fame. It may be more fleeting than you anticipate and in the end you still must face yourself and be accountable for your actions. Voltaire did me a huge favor. And so I turn to my garden this spring with the same love of dirt under my fingers.
"Voltaire did me a huge favor."That's lovely, Loren. We don't get as much satire with a moral purpose now I think. But that is when satire is at its best.
Two things about the garden ending. First, can it not be read as an allusion to Eden -- a paradoxical return to innocence through experience?Also, . The apotheosis at 3:35 always gives me chills. Gotta love Bernstein.
A mature, deserved, Eden. I like that.
This review has done justice to a masterpiece that changed my outlook forever and for good.
Great review Trevor. I love the deadpan nature of Voltaire's writing of horror and atrocity, and Candide's blithe acceptance of disaster and untold indignity is just brilliant - a centuries-early precursor to Victor Ward in Bret Easton Ellis' "Glamorama", and from there, to Derek Zoolander.I feel like satire was much easier "back then", when the world was a relatively stable, slow-moving place, and "meaning" per se was more stable as a result. Also the "dignity" of public figures meant a lot more - so the act of ridicule therefore meant something. These days, it really doesn't.
I read something recently, can't remember where, that said that satire is essentially conservative, possibly even reactionary, given we are meant to laugh at people for not following (or even knowing to follow) the set rules. It caught me, as I'd always thought of satire as basically subversive.
That's interesting, I'd always considered it subversive as well. I suppose it depends on the target. If you are poking fun at/exaggerating/pointing up the absurdity of new ideas, you're using satire in support of the status quo. If you instead criticizing the excesses of the present regime, you may well be pointing the way toward (or at least indicating a need for) reform.
Sorry DWC just seeing your comments now. I like your observation about Peter Cook and Python. Very interesting.
Indeed,
The sanctifying, redemptive power of manual labour, of simple work, this is such a vital lesson. (A lesson that I keep close to my heart and remind myself of thanks to the time I spent learning from adherents of Opus Dei.)