Gustave Flaubert
Being and NothingnessGustave Flaubert is presented as a test of whether psychological explanation can account for a person’s singularity. His ambition and need to write cannot be adequately explained as the accidental combination of generic drives: the book argues that his distinctive literary project is not a secondary outlet for general tendencies, but an expression of the individual who makes and lives those tendencies.
Identity and Background
Flaubert enters the discussion as a writer whose psychological development is being explained, rather than as the subject of a continuous life narrative. The account invokes a critic’s portrait of his youth: an exalted state attributed to grand ambition and a sense of power, followed by a turn toward literary passion. In that interpretation, a need for intense feeling and action is channeled into writing and fiction, which symbolically satisfy and direct it. The result is a proposed literary “temperament,” assembled from a small set of supposedly basic desires.
The book sets this account against a crucial biographical detail: Flaubert’s correspondence indicates that his need to write troubled him from early childhood, well before the supposed adolescent crisis. That chronology makes it difficult to treat writing as a late transformation of a more general adolescent need. It also shows what an account based on broad developmental patterns may leave out: the particular history of the person it claims to explain.
The Limits of the Drive-Based Explanation
The psychological portrait of Flaubert is criticized for turning his individuality into a combination of abstract qualities. Grand ambition, the need for intense feeling, and the desire for action are presented as common patterns that might belong to an average adolescent. Their combination may describe a pattern, but it does not explain why this particular person became a writer. The transition from intense feeling to literary vocation is not an answer to the question; it is precisely what requires explanation.
The account exposes the missing steps in the proposed chain of causes. Why should ambition produce exaltation rather than patient expectation or impatience? Why should exaltation issue in a desire for intense action? And why should that desire find satisfaction symbolically, through writing, rather than through other activities or forms of art? Flaubert’s own reported remark that he could have been a great actor sharpens the problem: the possibility of acting does not explain why writing became his path. To list one desire after another is to arrange events in sequence without grasping how one becomes another.
Nor does naming ambition as an irreducible trait resolve the difficulty. Once the psychologist treats Flaubert’s ambition as a basic fact beyond which analysis cannot proceed, the explanation has reached a stopping point by decision, not demonstrated that it has found the person’s irreducible core. The book contrasts Flaubert’s literary ambition with his brother Achille’s lack of it to underscore the contingency of such differences, while insisting that contingency alone does not make the ambition meaningless. Heredity, bourgeois background, education, or physiological constitution cannot by themselves account for the meaning of a vocation.
A Person as an Individual Project
The alternative is not to replace a collection of drives with an empty, passive self that merely receives them. The book rejects both the idea of a person as malleable material shaped by forces and the idea of a person as nothing more than a bundle of separate tendencies. In either version, the individual to whom the experiences belong disappears. Flaubert’s ambition is contingent, but it is also meaningful; it makes itself as part of a free, individual way of being.
The proposed object of understanding is therefore a radical individual decision that remains contingent rather than reducible to a predetermined cause. The book calls for an irreducible whose irreducibility is evident in the richness of what it explains, not merely asserted because the investigator has stopped asking questions. Flaubert’s literary vocation would be understood not by translating his need to write into a general need for activity, but by discerning the individual project that makes this need specifically his.
Writing, Desire, and the Whole Person
The argument broadens beyond Flaubert to explain why no inclination should be treated as self-contained. An activity such as rowing may carry a meaning beyond the activity itself; similarly, hunting and tennis can be interpreted as forms of diversion. Love and jealousy, in the examples drawn from Stendhal and Marcel Proust, need not be reduced to wanting a particular woman: they may express a person’s way of reaching toward the world as a whole. Such examples support the method applied to Flaubert, without claiming that one general formula settles every individual case.
A person, on this view, is a totality that cannot be reconstructed by adding together empirically observed tendencies. Each inclination or attitude expresses the person as a whole from a different angle and therefore carries a meaning that reaches beyond its immediate object. Applied to Flaubert, the relevant question is not simply what need writing satisfies. It is how writing, including the choice to write particular books, expresses his individual relation to himself, the world, and others. The sought-for explanation must preserve the specificity of his vocation rather than dissolve it into a universal pattern.
Significance in the Argument
Flaubert’s example marks the difference between describing regularities and understanding a concrete person. A psychological account may connect ambition, exaltation, and literary passion, yet leave the transitions among them unexplained and the writer himself out of view. The critique does not deny the reality of circumstances or the contingency of existence; it denies that a list of circumstances or supposedly basic drives, by itself, reveals what a person’s life means.
The alternative treats Flaubert’s need to write as an expression of an individual project rather than a symptom whose explanation lies in generic adolescent tendencies. Its irreducibility is meant to be discovered through the fullness of the person it makes intelligible. Flaubert thus serves as a methodological example: understanding a writer requires interpreting the particular vocation as a meaningful whole, not merely sorting its apparent causes into a sequence.