I was eager to read this because it is generally considered the “companion” novel to Cousin Bette which I thought was excellent (and is widely acknowledged to be one of his greatest works). But this story of an older man, shunned by his avaricious relations, was ultimately a disappointment. Although the elements of a masterpiece are here, I thought the entire book was too formulaic and cliched. Balzac also spends a bit too much time explaining various things and the story regularly loses momentum when he pauses for these explanations. Worse, some explanations proved no real help: because of the way he chooses to tell the story, his explication becomes too dependent on understanding some of the legal and duplicitous machinations of his characters. Plus, I'll admit, I've never been a fan of reading stage directions: don't tell me what's going to happen, show me. Added to that, another major character is so astonishingly naive as to be nearly unbelievable. Balzac's wicked satire and cynicism are intact and he writes wonderfully at times but ultimately, it just wasn't nearly enough for me. ( )

Ouvrage pessimiste, roman noir où se déploient dans leur hideur un univers cruel, une jungle hantée par des fauves inquiétants, Le Cousin Pons nous présente un monde criminel, en haut comme en bas, du salon à la loge de concierge.
Au beau milieu de ce siècle sordide, Sylvain Pons prend rang parmi les martyrs ignorés dont La Comédie Humaine met en scène les souffrances inconnues, les tortures infligées " aux âmes douces par les âmes dures, supplices auxquels succombent tant d'innocentes créatures ". Mais notre esthète angélique est également un gourmand ridicule et la farce s'immisce souvent dans le drame du pitoyable monomane ; la dernière grande œuvre de Balzac est aussi un roman-feuilleton grotesque.

Quatrième de couverture
«Deux mots suffisent à tout éclaircir, madame, dit Fraisier. Monsieur le président est le seul et unique héritier au troisième degré de monsieur Pons. Monsieur Pons est très malade, il va tester, s'il ne l'a déjà fait, en faveur d'un Allemand, son ami, nommé Schmucke, et l'importance de sa succession sera de plus de sept cent mille francs...- Si cela est, se dit à elle-même la présidente foudroyée par la possibilité de ce chiffre, j'ai fait une grande faute en me brouillant avec lui, en l'accablant.- Non, madame, car sans cette rupture il serait gai comme un pinson, et vivrait plus longtemps que vous, que monsieur le président et que moi... La Providence a ses voies, ne les sondons pas ! »

A superb dark comedy, companion piece to Cousin Bette.
Sylvain Pons is a dear old man, a musician and a poor relation of a titled family, to whom he repairs for gourmet dinners, and by whom he is regularly insulted and disparaged. Pons' overarching interest is picking up valuable antiques for a song, and he has amassed an amazing collection, which live in the flat he shares with devoted, childlike fellow musician, the German Schmucke. And which is presided over by the rapacious concierge, Mme Cibot...
When Pons falls ill; when those in the vicinity come to realise his 'bric a brac' is worth a mint, and when numerous others get involved...a corrupt doctor and his equally dodgy solicitor chum, the titled relatives who hope to inherit...and certain more lowly locals...a complex web unfolds.
Numerous laugh-out-loud observations on life and personalities ( )

Death, it is often said, is the end of a journey, but few people know how apt this simile is in Paris.

Much like Tolstoy's Ivan Ilyich, Cousin Pons is a meditation on mortality. Balzac's portrait is more cynical than mournful. The warmth of affection between the two friends is effaced by the calculating menace of those surrounding them. The structures of jurisprudence and medicine appear predatory. Despite that, there is Pons and his faithful Schmucke. There is much to admire and empathize in these two bumblers. I found Balzac's portrayal as always brilliant. Despite the pun, this could be no ocuntry for (poor) old men. There are a number of ill placed slurs lingering about. I find that disturbing but not a fatal flaw. Read Jim Paris' review
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/65897463 ( )

Egads! This started off as a comedy, which then became a dark comedy, and kept descending until the darkness got so dark, there wasn’t any comedy left. Critic W. H. Helm called Honore Balzac the "French Dickens", and I can dig that, because he creates these lush, theatrical characters and immerses them in a very period-feeling Paris of the 1840’s. Sometimes Dickens dwells on morbid subject matter: poverty, mistreatment of children, social injustice- but I've never known him to cross the line to become so grotesque I felt uncomfortable reading him. Cousin Pons got to that point for me.

It starts off light enough, with detailed character sketches of Sylvain Pons –confirmed bachelor, middle-aged playhouse orchestra director, and collector extraordinaire of bric-a-brack. His long-time partner, live-in best friend, and German transplant to Paris, Herr Schmucke, is like a comedic doting mother hen.

M. Pons is a bit of a bon vivant, and likes to eat well, and so he calls on his high-placed relatives, making the rounds to mooch an occasional dinner off them, but timed in a carefully-planned schedule to avoid wearing out his welcome. There was lots of comedy of manners here, with people dropping not-so-subtle hints that maybe Pons should make his own damn food, and Pons intentionally not picking up on these hints. It wasn't quite laugh-out-loud, but I was chuckling.

The drama starts when Pons' cousin (M.Camusot de Marville, a legal official in the high court, and a Peer of France) and his family get sick of him, and devise a plan to discourage him from coming around. ...But it gets complicated, because after they shoo him away once and for all, Pons befriends a wealthy patron of the playhouse, who would be a perfect suitor to Pons’ niece Cecile. Suddenly the Camusot de Marvilles need Pons for a proper introduction, so they find themselves backpedaling, explaining how all the insults they heaped upon him were misunderstandings, and in fact kidding gestures of affection. It feels very Dickens... and maybe even a bit Woody Allen, I can't say why.

In the midst of this whole marriage arrangement (which falls through for bizarre reasons) Cecile’s suitor makes small talk of his admiration for Cousin Pons’ bric-a-brack collection, which he casually speculates must be worth about 750,000 to 1,000,000 Francs.

BOINNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!

If Cousin Pons was redone as a cartoon, you would see M. and Mme. M.Camusot de Marville's eyes pop out of their heads at that figure. 1,000,000 Francs?!! Who would have thought his little trinkets would be valued so highly? Apparently he had an eye for great artistry, and picked up the early works of some great masters on the cheap. He's sitting on a goldmine! Now the snooty upper middle class family who once distained Cousin Pons is falling all over themselves to please him. There’s some good humor here too. Honestly, Balzac should’ve kept the tone light… the story is fun here. It almost feels like a Neil Simon play. And that's no surprise- after all, Cousin Pons is part of Balzac's larger body of interrelated books, which share crossover characters and storylines, which he calls "The Human Comedy".

Through some quirky circumstances, Pons and Schmucke’s landlady- the conniving Mme. Cibot- catches wind of Pons’ fortune. In a bizarre and funny scene, she consults a gypsy fortuneteller about how to get a share of it, and comes up with a very mean-spirited scheme, which turns the mood of the whole book very ugly and cruel.

She gets a crooked art dealer and appraiser involved, and then a down-on-his-luck lawyer, who all want to cheat Pons out of his treasures. These characters are all wonderfully rendered, but the plot is too inhumane, and Pons' suffering too pitiful for this to be a called comedy. It’s hard to explain, without getting too spoilerific, but Pons was too good natured, and was introduced too engagingly to the reader, to be treated this way now. He's too sympathetic; readers don't want to meet lovable characters, only to see them tortured mercilessly.

I get that life was very hard in the era Balzac writes from, and some of the injustices that may have been taken in stride in 1840 would horrify us today. I also get that the comedic as well as cruel schemes are all part of the same underlying "Oh! What a tangled web we weave" message... but I've got my limits, you know? This is supposed to be part of "Human Comedy", and this is just not funny any more. You know what I think? I think Balzac has really got us reading "The Human Tragedy", and is just seeing how far he can string us along before we figure that out.

Not cool, Balzac. Not cool at all. I find this depressing as hell, and I would rather sleep with the Whore of Babylon than read one word further.

...Well, to be fair, there is a half-hearted stab at poetic justice at then end, but it's too little, too late.

*sigh* The story's really good, so I still recommend this book, but just know what you're getting into; you'll need something lighthearted to revive your spirits after this one. Unfortunately, I've promised to read a book about Hitler and Stalin next, as part of a group read, so... Oh look! Calvin & Hobbes! That will get my mood up!

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