It’s a pastoral novella set in her native Berry region and depicts a way of rural life that would pass away with industrialisation. The characters of the novel are not urban sophisticates but peasants dependent on the land, whose lives are closely knitted together in community, intermarriage and the connecting relations of villages and occupations.

The central character is Germain, a twenty-eight year old widower with three children. Hard as it might seem to the modern reader, or even to contemporaries in more urban settings, Germain is almost considered to be old. Time is running out for him in the matter of a second marriage. Large age differences are not common in this part of the world, and his father-in-law believes he should court a widow some distance away, a woman with some wealth, who will also be a mother to his children. Unconvinced, Germain nevertheless agrees to visit the woman. He’s an obedient son-in-law, living with his dead wife’s parents and family, and very much loved by them. They don’t want to see him on the shelf.

A neighbour, on hearing of his journey, asks if he will escort her sixteen year old daughter to her new job as a shepherdess, on a farm adjacent to that of the widow’s home. He agrees, and his young son sneakily invites himself along so that the three of them set off on the horse, but later become lost in the woods. Here, they set down and spend the night, and this night lies at the heart of the book. Because it is here, in the darkness, that Germain realises the best match he could make would be with the girl, “little Marie.” In spite of her childlike name, Marie is smarter than Germain, and it’s this and her way with the boy that first begins to turn Germain’s head. By the morning, he knows how he feels, but it’s obvious she doesn’t care for him that way, would prefer a young man, and considers him too old for her. She doesn’t want to spend her last years looking after an old man when she should be taking things easier herself.

The two separate and Marie goes on to the farm where she will look after the sheep, while Germain visits the home of the widow, a woman who appears to have three different men already vying for her affections. The rest of the novella follows him as he returns to his village, convinced that happiness will never be his, until the intervention of his well-meaning in-laws brings about a change in his romantic fortunes.

Because the novel is so short, Sand adds a long appendix which details the marriage customs of the region, much of which was already passing out of fashion at the time. Some of these customs appear to have pre-Christian origins and the reader is offered a glimpse into French rural traditions in the same way that readers of Hardy are offered a look into English rural life at the very moment when industrialisation was bringing about change and the death of old customs. Sand’s novel does bring to mind the likes of ‘Far From The Madding Crowd’ although it was written decades earlier and has a simpler plot and style of writing. Hardy’s densely descriptive prose is not matched here. The prose is sparser, and although it’s difficult to know without comparing this English language version to the original French, there seems to be a modern flavour to Andrew Brown’s translation. Brown himself offers an extremely interesting introduction to the book. He mentions that a priest told a friend of his that the Catholic Church had effectively given up on the Berry, because of the region’s persistent pagan traditions. There’s also a foreword by Victoria Glendinning.

‘The Devil’s Pool’ (the title refers to something in the heart of the forest) is a book that perfectly depicts the practical decisions facing nineteenth century peasantry. Money and age have to be considered in matters of marriage, though love triumphs in this story, in part because one character has the economic means to make a less financially advantageous match. This book is a very easy read, with lively dialogue, and a good pace. There’s something timeless too about the setting and the dialogue. Because it’s a novella, it can be read easily in an evening or afternoon, and yet it offers such a potent look into mid-nineteenth century French rural society that the book leaves the kind of stronger, lingering impression one normally associates with longer works. In fact, “The Devil’s Pool” is a good example of the strengths of the novella. As with the short story, each word in a novella counts, more so than in a novel. Things are more condensed. It’s a mistake to see novellas as simply short novels. This underestimates their power: by their very condensed but simpler natures, they can offer a more potent reading experience.

Kara Kellar Bell is a film and media graduate from the West of Scotland, with a passion for European novels, French films, silent cinema, and Brazilian music (everything from Daniela Mercury and other pop stars through to bossa nova). As a writer, she likes to have room to move around creatively, so she’s not located in one genre. She writes realism and also stories of a more fantastic nature, usually grounded to some extent in the real world. She also takes delight in writing across the sexual spectrum, and as a bisexual, considers it important to remind people that things are not always black and white, either/or, in sexuality or in gender. For a selection of Kara’s writing on the Showcase section of this site, click here

© 2004 Laura Hird All rights reserved.