What a strange, disturbing novel this turned out to be. Very gothic in nature and reminiscent of Anne Radcliff at times. I had serious doubts at the outset, but after about 75 pages it began to develop into what was a captivating story of a love gone wrong. Gaston Beauvais is a well-placed banker’s son, engaged to marry Pauline de Charmilles, the only daughter of a Count, and about to embark upon a life of wealth and honor. Into this idyllic scenario comes a novice priest, Silvion Guidel, the nephew of the local rector. It is immediately obvious that this man and Pauline are drawn to each other and that betrayal is in the air.

The story built momentum and I was quite torn between feeling pity for our wronged Gaston and horror at his overwhelming need for revenge on the two people by whom he feels so betrayed. Then the story went on far too long and became a treatise on the evils of absinthe. Whether lives were actually destroyed by absinthe, people went mad drinking absinthe due to the rotten wormwood used to make the drink, or actually suffered from hallucinations because of it, is disputed. That it was popular in the late 1800s and banned in 1915 is not. By the end of the book, I knew I had been hoodwinked by a clever member of the Paris temperance movement.

Even with its obvious political agenda, this could have been an interesting read had Corelli kept it to half the pages. She felt obligated to describe in great detail and more than once the travails of the addiction. As well, she turned her character from someone who could be understood as an injured man to someone who was far too callous and unfeeling toward even those who were blameless in his misfortune to be realistic. I’m sure addiction to any harmful substance alters personality and sometimes brings out all the worst in an individual, but I would not expect that it does so as quickly or as thoroughly as is pictured here. I wonder if Corelli was able to convince anyone to steer clear of the “green fairy” with this tale.
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This is a fascinating novel of lurid, over-the-top prose that appealed to readers in earlier times. Corelli writes of a young man's descent into addiction to absinthe and the destruction he wreaks on those around him. While presented as a cautionary tale, it allows the reader to indulge vicariously in the seamy side of life in Paris's underbelly. ( )

This is a fascinating novel of lurid, over-the-top prose that appealed to readers in earlier times. Corelli writes of a young man's descent into addiction to absinthe and the destruction he wreaks on those around him. While presented as a cautionary tale, it allows the reader to indulge vicariously in the seamy side of life in Paris's underbelly. ( )

This book is to absinthe what the movie "Reefer Madness" is to pot. I sincerely doubt that the author has ever tasted absinthe for herself, but is responding to anti-absinthe hysteria of the day (1890) with this book. Gaston is not even close to being a rounded character, but rather a straw man for the author to voice her opinions. Long stretches of the novel feel padded, and at times she goes off on a personal rant against Emile Zola and naturalism (i.e. realism) in fiction. It seems obvious that she has nothing but contempt for France and the French people. The histrionics and anxiety voiced over the "fairy with the green eyes" are amusing though, even engaging if taken as camp (I started to imagine the overblown Gaston as played by Jon Lovitz). ( )

Wormwood (1890)