Indiana is in a loveless marriage when she falls madly in love with a Parisian for whom she‘s ready to abandon all. Set contemporaneously when it was written, 1831, you have to imagine that Indiana‘s actions would likely destroy her life. The romance is over-the-top, apparently common during this period. But the author, a woman writing under a pen name, was on the cutting edge of women‘s rights and she held very strong beliefs about women in society. The author‘s practical and philosophical opinions about France in the 1830s are worth reading if you can get past the way, way overdone forbidden love story. The author complains vociferously in multiple prefaces about the censorship this book suffered. The MC ultimately moved back to her home island of Reunion (then íle Bourbon) and its descriptions are lovely. ( )

This an interesting novel. While, if you occasionally enjoy a good melodrama, this is a good selection, I found it inconsistent at times. The protagonist is a classically ethereal beauty who is downtrodden by her husband, who is in love with a scoundrel, and who is beloved by a strong and selfless male friend. Nothing unusual there. Stormy, passionate moments define the entire story until the heavens open and provide a peaceful, idyllic ending. Nothing unusual there either. I think the strangeness of the story is that the author published this novel under a male pseudonym, and engages in the uncommon habit of addressing the reader, as a man observing female behavior. I found myself thinking of Shakespeare's "play within a play". Clearly the author was working through the natural character of women, if there is such a thing. See what you think by the idyllic end! ( )

I have been reading two Victorian novels simultaneously, which is weirdly lonely, so many heavily felt and ponderously expressed sentiments so foreign to my own, all at once. Of the two, Indiana is not my favourite: the overpowering concern with convention bedraggles the proceedings--not only the romantic-marital-sexual conventions that tear lives apart, but also the unconventional adherence to convention that Sand ultimately approves of and adheres to--she's all for histrionics, for sad lovers loyal unto death and finding everythingineachother'seyes in that nineteenth-century codependent Jane Eyre way, it seems; what she's against is actually playas, and what she's for, a mildly cartoonishly tragical version of True Wuv, and in that sense although she no doubt wore trousers and smoked cigars and was an important bohemian feminist, and deserves her vanguard-luminary status in that sense, her view of relationships between men and women--that of the young Sand who wrote this at least--actually comes across as deeply conservative in terms of her view of love while also being advanced in terms of her insistence that women be let govern themselves and highly moral from that perspective. The little character insights are as good as many of her contemporaries but not as good as the best (people undergo conversions this way and that at the behest of the plot), and so what you're left with is a sad story of a destructive love affair whose ruling humours (the need for utmost total unreal devotion, the need for a man to have mistresses, great-man-of-history worship, the the choice of suicide in this bad old world even over life into which a new hope has just come because you're just so tired, and the representation of this choice as highly moral) have become largely historical ones. I felt sad for Indiana, but also like this is maybe more a book for young nineteenth-century women married off to cranky old colonels who deal with it by many obscure psychosomatic ailments (to be fair, women couldn't own property, etc., so she couldn't leave, and what other comeback did she have?) and who find the idea of a lovers' suicide pact irresistibly romantic and who would love to go to pieces emotionally and be directed from there as long as their lover-director is ardent and devoted and not cranky like their husband or flighty like the other romantic rival and early favourite. I don't want to be unsympathetic to Indiana but this novel does mostly leave me with the sense that everybody back then was doing a piss-poor fucking job (a service in itself, important in its day, etc.!). ( )

Written by the notorious Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin - pen name: George Sand, who flaunted convention this is never-the-less a romantic novel. Female desire constrained by society - a little more risque than Jane Austen's work and set in France and a colonial possession of France. ( )

3.5-stars, really.

I didn't enjoy reading this book very much but I did enjoy the pondering and reflection that has resulted. The used of allegory was excellent and the portrait of life for a married woman in the early 1800s was portrayed achingly. I also enjoyed the Creole threads of the story. So - lots of interesting things going on but it was inconsistently delivered. Translation issue? Maybe? There was one section in particular that droned on about the political climate of France and, holy hell, it sucked. to be fair, I had recently read [b:War and Peace|290979|War and Peace|Leo Tolstoy|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1320544190s/290979.jpg|4912783] and [b:Les Misérables|2410774|Les Misérables|Victor Hugo|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1320480043s/2410774.jpg|3208463] right before INDIANA, and Hugo and Tolstoy write political asides like nobody's business...so in contrast, Sand was lacking. ( )