The main faces of the Arc de Triomphe Maria Remarque. Erich Maria Remarque "Arc de Triomphe"

The most romantic city in the world between two dramatic wars of the last century appears as one of the heroes of the novel. Paris, love and the coming storm are the three main themes of the Arc de Triomphe.

Erich Maria Remarque - about the author

Heroes of the book Arc de Triomphe

Main character Ravik, a German who was a doctor in the First World War and then tortured by the Gestapo, lives in Paris without relatives or documents in a hotel for refugees like him. He is a brilliant professional, but living without a passport, he is forced to give all the glory to others, and operates for famous French surgeons who profit from his talent. Ravik, a superman with a scalpel, tries to save even the most hopeless patients, but this does not always work, and Remarque vividly shows his experiences. The hero philosophizes a lot, his sayings become popular quotes - “In our days, even Christ himself, if he had been without a passport, would have been put in prison.”

The main character, Joan Madu, is lost at the beginning of the story, but gradually gains strength and the desire to live, a woman who wants to love and be loved. She is an actress Italian origin, who does not have any special talent, is not a beauty, but she is “a woman with sparkling eyes who loves life” - this is what attracts her.

The negative hero is the German officer Haake - it was he who tortured Ravik in the Gestapo, and killed his beloved during interrogation. Ravik accidentally notices him on the streets of Paris, and then meets him in a cafe.

The plot of the book Arc de Triomphe

One rainy night, fate confronts him with the absolutely lost Joan, from whom he could not get rid of, and out of the kindness of his heart he decides to help. According to the law of the genre, the heroes begin an affair, and slowly but surely Ravik falls in love, but the hero is not ready for a serious relationship, and cannot love the way Joan wants, and both feel an imminent separation. Which happens when Ravik is once again expelled from the country.

Upon returning to his beloved Paris, Ravik accidentally spots Haake on the street and forgets about everything. By chance, the hero manages to meet the tormentor in a cafe, and later, lured by cheap entertainment, he brings him to the Bois de Boulogne. Having avenged all the suffering, the hero is freed from the shackles of the past, his heart is open to love. A captivating ending to the book that will awaken your senses and force you to think.

My opinion about the book Arc de Triomphe

Now it is very difficult to imagine the fear, bitterness and doom that people experienced during the war, in my opinion, the author managed to convey these feelings to the reader. Remarque shows how people were in a hurry to live in Peaceful time, as if they had a presentiment that the respite would be short, and that a new massacre would soon begin again.

The book is written beautiful language, I especially liked how Remarque shows the feelings of the characters, and how these feelings are reflected in the description of the city.

Erich Maria Remarque

Triumphal Arch

The woman walked diagonally across the bridge straight towards Ravik. She walked quickly, but with some unsteady step. Ravik noticed her only when she was almost there. He saw a pale face with high cheekbones and wide-set eyes. This face was numb and looked like a mask, in the dim light of the lantern it seemed lifeless, and in the eyes there was an expression of such glassy emptiness that Ravik involuntarily became wary.

The woman passed so close that she almost touched him. He reached out and grabbed her elbow. She staggered and would probably have fallen if he hadn't held her.

Ravik squeezed the woman’s hand tightly.

- Where are you going? – he asked, hesitating a little. The woman looked at him point blank.

- Let me in! – she whispered.

Ravik did not answer. He still held her hand tightly.

- Let me go! What is this? “The woman barely moved her lips.

It seemed to Ravic that she didn’t even see him. She looked through him, somewhere into the emptiness of the night. Something just bothered her, and she repeated the same thing:

- Let me go!

He immediately realized that she was not a prostitute and not drunk. He unclenched his fingers slightly. She didn't even notice it, although she could have easily escaped if she wanted.

Ravik waited a little.

-Where are you going, really? At night, alone, in Paris? – he calmly asked again and let go of her hand.

The woman was silent, but did not move from her place. Once she stopped, she seemed unable to go any further.

Ravik leaned against the parapet of the bridge. He felt damp and porous stone under his hands.

- Isn’t that right? “He pointed down where, glistening restlessly in the grayish darkness, the Seine flowed, running into the shadows of the Alma Bridge.

The woman didn't answer.

“It’s too early,” said Ravik. “It’s too early, and it’s too cold.” November.

He took out a pack of cigarettes, then fumbled for matches in his pocket. There were only two of them on the cardboard. Leaning slightly, he covered the flame with his palms from the light wind from the river.

Ravik straightened up and showed the pack.

- Algerian. Black tobacco. It is smoked by soldiers of the Foreign Legion. Perhaps it's too strong for you. No others.

The woman shook her head and took a cigarette. Ravik brought her a burning match. She took several deep drags. Ravik threw the match over the parapet. Like a small shooting star, the match flew through the darkness and went out when it reached the water.

A taxi slowly drove onto the bridge. The driver stopped the car, looked at them, waited a little and moved on, up the wet Avenue George the Fifth, glistening in the dark.

Suddenly Ravik felt how tired he was. He worked all day long and, when he came home, could not sleep. Then he went outside - he wanted to drink. And now, in the dank dampness late at night, he felt irresistibly tired.

Ravik looked at the woman. Why exactly did he stop her? Something had happened to her, that was clear. But what does he care? He never knew enough women to whom something happened, especially at night, especially in Paris. Now it didn’t matter to him, he wanted only one thing - to sleep.

“Go home,” said Ravik. -What are you doing here at this time? Still, good luck, you won't end up in trouble.

He turned up his collar, intending to leave. The woman looked at him with blank eyes.

- Home? – she repeated.

Ravik shrugged.

- Home, to your apartment, to a hotel - anywhere. Do you really want to go to the police?

- To the hotel! Oh my God! – the woman said. Ravik stopped. Again, someone has nowhere to go, he thought. This should have been foreseen. It's always the same. At night they don’t know where to go, and in the morning they disappear before you have time to wake up. In the mornings, for some reason they know where to go. Eternal cheap despair

– despair night darkness. It comes with darkness and disappears with it. He threw away his cigarette. Isn't he just fed up with all this?

“Let’s go somewhere and have a glass of vodka,” he said.

The easiest way is to pay and leave, and then let her take care of herself.

The woman made the wrong move and tripped. Ravik supported her again.

- Are you tired? - he asked.

- Don't know. Maybe.

– So much so that you can’t sleep?

She nodded.

- This happens. Let's go. I'll accompany you.

They walked up Avenue Marceau. The woman leaned heavily on Ravik - she leaned on it as if she was afraid of falling every minute.

They crossed Peter Serbsky Avenue. Behind the intersection of the Rue de Chaillot, in the distance, against the backdrop of the rainy sky, the unsteady and dark bulk of the Arc de Triomphe appeared.

Ravik pointed to the illuminated narrow entrance leading to a small cellar.

– Here... There’s something here.

It was the driver's pub. Several taxi drivers and two prostitutes were sitting at the table. The drivers played cards. Prostitutes drank absinthe. They took a quick look at the woman and turned away indifferently. One, older, yawned loudly, the other began to lazily apply lipstick. In the back of the hall, a very young waiter, with the face of an angry rat, sprinkled sawdust on the stone tiles and swept the floor. Ravik chose a table near the entrance. It was more convenient this way: I would be able to leave sooner. He didn't even take off his coat.

- What will you drink? - he asked.

- Don't know. Doesn't matter.

“Two Calvados,” Ravik said to the waiter in a vest and shirt with rolled up sleeves. - And a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes.

- We only have French ones.

- Well. Then a pack of Laurent, green.

- There are no green ones. Only blue ones.

Ravik looked at the waiter’s hand; on it was a tattoo of a naked woman walking on the clouds. Catching his gaze, the waiter clenched his fist and tensed his muscles. The woman moved her belly obscenely.

“So they’re blue,” said Ravik.

The waiter grinned.

“Maybe there’s still a pack of green ones.” - And he left, shuffling with his shoes.

Ravik looked after him.

“Red slippers,” he said, “and a beauty performing a belly dance!” He appears to have served in the Turkish Navy.

The woman put her hands on the table. It seemed like she would never be able to lift them again. The hands were sleek, but that didn’t mean anything. However, they were not so sleek. Ravik noticed that the nail on his middle finger right hand, apparently, broke and was torn off, not filed. The varnish has come off in places.

The waiter brought glasses and a pack of cigarettes.

– “Laurent”, green. Still, one pack was found.

- That's what I thought. Did you serve in the navy?

- No. At the circus.

- Better. “Ravik handed the woman a glass. - Here, have a drink. At night, Calvados is the best choice. Or maybe you'd like some coffee?

- Drink it in one gulp.

The woman nodded and drank. Ravik looked at her. An extinct face, pale and almost without any expression. Full but pale lips, their outlines seemed to have been erased, and only the hair of a natural golden color was very good. She wore a beret. And from under the cloak one could see a blue English suit, made by a good tailor. But the green stone in the ring was too large not to be fake.

- Another glass? – asked Ravik.

The woman nodded.

He called the waiter.

- Two more Calvados. Just more glasses.

- And pour more?

- So, two double Calvados.

- You guessed it.

Ravik decided to quickly drink his glass and leave. He was bored and very tired. In general, he knew how to patiently endure the vicissitudes of fate: he had forty years of restless and changeable life behind him. Situations like this were nothing new to him. He lived in Paris for several years, suffered from insomnia and often wandered around the city at night - he had to see everything.

The waiter brought what was ordered. Ravik carefully placed a glass of apple vodka, spicy and aromatic, in front of the woman.

- Have another drink. Of course, there will be little sense, but it will warm you up. And no matter what happens to you, don’t take anything to heart. Few things in the world remain important for long.

The woman looked up at him, but did not touch the glass.

“No, that’s really so,” said Ravik. – Especially if it happens at night. Night complicates things.

The woman was still looking at him.

“There’s no need to console me,” she finally said.

- All the better.

Ravik looked around for the waiter. Enough. He was tired of it, he knew such women well. Probably from Russian emigrants, he thought.

As soon as they settle down somewhere and get a little tipsy, they immediately switch to a categorical tone.

- You are Russian?

Ravik paid and stood up, preparing to say goodbye. The woman immediately stood up. She did it silently, as if it were a matter of course. Ravik looked at her hesitantly. Okay, he thought. You can also say goodbye on the street.

It started to rain. Ravik stopped at the entrance.

- Where are you going?

He decided he would go in the opposite direction.

- Don't know. Somewhere.

“A good ending only happens when everything was bad before it. A bad ending is much better,” says one of the heroes of the famous and especially revered in Russia German writer Erich Maria Remarque. Remarque's novels are a special view and philosophy, with which many in turn “get sick”, and then just as inevitably “heal”. The period of searching for oneself is replaced by a different, measured and orderly life for most of Remarque’s readers. Can you imagine Remarque's hero telling a bedtime story to his child, digging in the garden, preoccupied with a raise in salary or prospects for promotion? No - and perhaps this is why we love them: they are outside the chains of everyday life and philistine routine, their values are wise and simple, like life itself - bread, tobacco, a little money and always a comrade nearby whom you can rely on in any circumstances. Infinitely attractive in their sincere and old-fashioned quixoticism, Remarque's heroes remain faithful to the noble moral principles and follow them in simple everyday situations: they do not betray, do not lie, but respond to evil blow for blow; they know the value of money, but do not strive to translate everything into language commodity-money relations. I don’t want to put up with the idea that they have no future: Ravik will live to see the victory over the Nazis, Helen will write the most important letter in her life, Clerfay will win the next race, Lilian will once again escape from the monastery sanatorium. And then we’ll see...

"Arc de Triomphe" - plot

The action takes place in France 1938-1939. Ravik, a World War I veteran, is a stateless German surgeon who lives in Paris and operates on patients instead of less qualified French surgeons. He is one of many emigrants without passports or any other documents, constantly under threat of arrest and deportation from the country. At home, he helped two innocent people escape, after which he survived torture in the Gestapo and the death of his girlfriend in dungeons; he moved to France, since it is easiest for emigrants to live there.

He accidentally meets the Italian actress Joan Madu and begins an affair with her; the lovers either quarrel or make up. Ravik manages to lure into the forest and kill his main tormentor, Gestapo man Haake, promising him a visit to an elite brothel. At the end of the novel, war begins, Joan is mortally wounded by a bullet from a jealous actor, Ravik refuses to hide under the guise of a Russian emigrant and calmly surrenders to the police, who staged a raid in the hotel where he lives.

Reviews

Reviews of the book “Arc de Triomphe”

Please register or login to leave a review. Registration will take no more than 15 seconds.

Anna M

It was nice to see something interesting love story!

My opinion is that the book "Arc de Triomphe" is a more masculine prose, but girls should also read it) Remarque, for me personally, is one of the few authors who clearly presents life values, the bearer of the definition of philosophy. You can discover a lot for yourself and begin to appreciate not only love, loyalty, suffering, but also the fact that you are human! At the moments of reading, I was overwhelmed with feelings of sadness, joy, delight, just a fountain of emotions) The book “Arc de Triomphe” literally flies before my eyes, in general, like life itself! Read, cry, learn to appreciate and love, analyze quotes, there are many moments where you involuntarily smile!!! Happy reading!

Helpful review?

1 / 0

Fanny

Like all books by Erich Remarque, “Arc de Triomphe” is very tragic and sad story. The story of the main characters cannot but excite, it is so sad, so sincere, real that it touches the quick, touches the soul, makes you think. This wonderful book evoked such a range of emotions in me, which became one of my favorites.

I liked it very much love line, interesting characters, whose characters are well developed. However, their love story is not the central event here. Rather, it is created as a background. Erich Remarque depicted an entire era - the pre-war period, when complete chaos reigned throughout the entire Earth, people lived in fear.

The novel takes place in France in the beautiful city of Paris. But even all this beauty is overshadowed by the darkness that has engulfed the entire world.

I admire the symbolism of the book, the presence deep quotes, beautiful syllable.

I didn’t find a single negative in this book, it’s perfect from start to finish!

Helpful review?

An excellent novelist, whose gloom and cynicism is justified by his deep knowledge of people and life in general, Erich Maria Remarque seems to me somewhat underestimated in our latitudes. It would be even more accurate to say - incorrectly assessed. After all, his two most “promoted” novels are “Three Comrades” and “On western front Without Change” personally do not seem to me to be the best examples of his work.

A completely different matter is the brilliant Arc de Triomphe, a book about love and the deepest devotion, which can be even stronger. The book is about the monstrous power of the past, forever living in our souls, and about despair so deep that it allows us to come out “on the other side” and see peace and light.

1938 of the last century. The main character of the book, the German surgeon Ravik, lives in Paris and drinks the bitter emigrant cup to the bottom. Unable to prove his qualifications with proper official documents, he is forced to assist an incompetent and stupid local surgeon. He wanders around hotels, escaping police raids, and communicates with the same hopeless poor fellows. He thinks about two people saved from the clutches of the Gestapo, for whom he pays with his own exile. You can't wonder if it was worth it Noble act such a sacrifice - the painful death of a beloved. And Ravik wanders around the indifferent city at night, smoking and watching strange scenes nightlife- after all, at night people are not at all the same as during the day. Night changes everything. On one of the bridges he meets the Italian Joan - an equally restless soul with equally banal insoluble problems in her mediocre emigrant life...

The depiction of the love story of Joan and Ravika is so real that their feelings can literally be understood and almost experienced when reading. They say that Remarque brought himself and Marlene Dietrich under these names - just before the start of World War II, these two wonderful characters met in the same romantic Paris.

However, as in life, at the moment of meeting your only and beloved person, no miracle happens and the cruel wheel of life does not stop spinning. Lovers do not harbor hopes or illusions, and oddly enough, this deprives them of the inevitable poison of mutual grievances - love is initially affected by the bitterness of hopelessness, and nightly Calvados with cheap cigarettes does not particularly soften this aftertaste. In addition, a new passion appears in Ravik’s life, absorbing and burning him - a fatal meeting with a former Gestapo tormentor sets in motion completely different gears of the mechanism that pulls the puppets of life by the strings...

Remarque's incredible humor - not so much mocking as deep and wise, allowed the book to be filled with many amazing quotes. And from his deepest understanding of the mechanisms that move our souls, it hurts through admiration. “Arc de Triomphe” is a multifaceted book populated by living people, all of these amazingly convincing minor characters will live forever thanks to the genius of the writer. And reading it (and rereading, of course) makes us a little wiser and a little brighter through sadness. And it makes you think about the fragility of the wonderful things and feelings that make our lives worth living. Take care of love, ladies and gentlemen.

“Nowhere does anything wait for a person; you always have to bring everything with you”- Erich Maria Remarque.

The novel takes place during World War II in France. The main character is the escaped German surgeon Ravik, who passed the First world war and secretly, without any documents or permission, lives in France. Possessing sufficient professional skills and good experience, he works replacing less qualified French doctors. As fate would have it, he had to leave his native land; he believed that in France it would be easier for him and his life would improve.

While living in his homeland, he facilitated the escape and saved two people from execution. He had to suffer punishment by serving mental torments in the Gestapo, and besides, his beloved person, the girl Sibylla, died there.

In France, autumn night, the hero meets a woman in deep despair. He brings her home and finds out that this actress is Joan Madu. She had just lost her beloved man. The hero helps the actress obtain a death certificate for her man.

In a conversation with his colleague, Ravik opens up and admits that he is a fugitive emigrant and has no right to work and live in France. That he has to live in a hotel where documents and registration are not required, and also that he has to hide his real name.

The hero begins to fall in love with French actress. But she really wants normal ones, human relations, in which you no longer need to hide and be constantly afraid. On this basis, scandals constantly occur between lovers; they either quarrel or make up. The real conflict for the heroes arises after the surgeon is arrested and sent to Switzerland. But he stays there for about three months and returns back to France, where he almost breaks up with Joan.

Next, Ravik meets his big enemy Haake from the Gestapo. By happy occasion he does not recognize the surgeon and, on the contrary, is glad that he finds his compatriot. The surgeon decides to invite Haake to visit the famous brothel, and he tricks him into taking him to the Bois de Boulogne. Where he carries out reprisals against him. Having committed the murder, he takes the mutilated corpse to the Saint-Germain forest.

At the end of the novel, another shock awaited the hero. His favorite actress is shot by her next boyfriend. The surgeon tries to get the bullet out, but this only makes the situation worse. Both understand that death is near and confess their love to each other. After which Ravik administers a lethal injection to Joan in order to ease her suffering.

Having lost everything, he does not resist the police during the next arrest and tells them his name. Thus, the novel's conclusion is that war is so cruel time, which can break even the purest and kind heart, denigrating him beyond recognition.