Representative of the best and worst of classic literature.

Enthralling when it focuses on Julien’s lust for power, class envy, and vengeance against the world; drags like hell when it focuses on his romances, which it does for most of the time. I have nothing against classical romance - I count Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice among my favorites - but I felt that here, they added nothing to his inner psychology that I couldn’t ascertain from the otherwise scant plot. In fact, when they finally cause Julien to commit a crime of passion, it felt to me almost like a cheat, as though Stendhal couldn’t figure out another reason for Julien’s downfall.