The Innocent Libertine by Colette

Since my conference paper was on a story of Colette's I've been trying to read more of her work before I expand my paper or seek publication.
This novel is actually a compilation of two shorter pieces about the same character, a girl named Minne. Published together in 1909, I was a bit shocked at some of the racy content. Perhaps the nude, reclining woman sketched on the cover should have tipped me off-- and not to be stereotypical, but French art and literature does have a reputation.
In the first part, we are introduced to a fourteen year old girl name Minne. She has an overactive imagination and likes to pretend she is the mistress of a notorious criminal. She pores over the papers reading about thieves, killers, prostitutes, and dreams of being the queen of them all. Her devoted, widowed mother doesn't notice these strange tendencies, but her cousin, Antione does.
They visit with her Uncle and cousin over the summer and Antione, just a few years older than Minne, discovers he has feelings for her. She does not show any signs of reciprocating and tells him she is engaged to another man-- her assassin of the underworld. Perhaps saddest of all, Minne does seem to believe there is a man of mystery waiting for her.
After an incident which leaves Minne's virtue in question we begin the second part of the story. It takes place a few years later, after Minne and Antione's marriage.
Though Antione has gotten over his awkwardness, Minne is still unsure of loving him. She feels that she was forced into the marriage. Feeling emotionally and sexually unfulfilled, she begins having affairs, looking for a man that will 'make her like other women.' She finds no happiness in these liaisons, however, feeling that her lovers are using her to find pleasure that she never experiences.
Minne is an interesting character that does many rash or questionable things, but still gains the reader's sympathy. At times she can behave in cold and extremely aggravating ways. Antione is also a likable figure. He is so in love with Minne that he is willing to allow her almost anything to make her happy.
The picture Colette paints is of, no doubt, a slightly unconventional heroine. Unlike figures such as Madame Bovary, another unfaithful wife, her story ends well. She isn't punished for her sins, nor does she feel especially guilty. She does maintain a sort of internal innocence in spite of her actions. Of course there are one or two loose ends left by one of Minne's former lovers that one can't help but wonder about.

I survived... Women's Studies Conference 2011

I presented my humble offering at 9:30 this morning and it actually went quite well. I received some very interesting and encouraging feedback from professors from different colleges. Though I was still tinkering with edits until 10 pm last night, the editing seems to have paid off. My professor, whose class I originally wrote the paper for is encouraging me to submit the paper to some scholarly journals.
That is why immediately after the conference I went to the library to check out some of my author's other works. The author my research is focused on is Colette, a French author from the early 20th century. Unfortunately, many articles on her are at least partially in French and it is hard to find good translations of some of her works. Even my college's library had more French texts than English translations.
I took French in high school. I can't say I was overly devoted to it. I knew that it would help me in literary studies, especially 19th century literary studies because one often finds French phrases sprinkled through such novels.
High school French helped with with novels such as Jane Eyre, The Awakening, and Lolita; all of which contain phrases in French. I did have to run to my French dictionary for some more complex or obscure terms, but it was enough. However, what little I recollect from high school is not enough in this case. Understanding linguistical nuances is almost always impossible once a text is translated. Take Chekov for example-- hilarious in Russian, depressing in English. All the satire is lost. I had no idea why The Seagull was classified as a comedy when I first read it.
Still, I feel good about my showing today. I was afraid that being in a room full of bright young things and professors would make me feel stupid, or out of my depths, but instead it was very stimulating and made me feel smart. Between sessions I had the opportunity to engage in some very interesting discussions. I've never thought of myself as a scholarly writer-- creative writing has always been my preference, but perhaps I can do a little of both.