Uh-oh, it looks like your Internet Explorer is out of date.

For a better shopping experience, please upgrade now.

The Red and the Black (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

The Red and the Black (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

3.6 19
by Stendhal, Bruce Robbins, Horace B. Samuel

See All Formats & Editions

The Red and the Black, by Stendhal, is part of the Barnes & Noble Classics series, which offers quality editions at affordable prices to the student and the general reader, including new scholarship, thoughtful design, and pages of carefully crafted extras. Here are some of the remarkable features of Barnes & Noble


The Red and the Black, by Stendhal, is part of the Barnes & Noble Classics series, which offers quality editions at affordable prices to the student and the general reader, including new scholarship, thoughtful design, and pages of carefully crafted extras. Here are some of the remarkable features of Barnes & Noble Classics:

  • New introductions commissioned from today's top writers and scholars
  • Biographies of the authors
  • Chronologies of contemporary historical, biographical, and cultural events
  • Footnotes and endnotes
  • Selective discussions of imitations, parodies, poems, books, plays, paintings, operas, statuary, and films inspired by the work
  • Comments by other famous authors
  • Study questions to challenge the reader's viewpoints and expectations
  • Bibliographies for further reading
  • Indices & Glossaries, when appropriate
All editions are beautifully designed and are printed to superior specifications; some include illustrations of historical interest. Barnes & Noble Classics pulls together a constellation of influences—biographical, historical, and literary—to enrich each reader's understanding of these enduring works.


After Napoleon’s defeat, the French aristocracy tried to reassert its power in a government known as the Restoration. Venal and corrupt, the Restoration fell in 1830. Later that year, Stendhal published his scathing satire of Restoration society, The Red and the Black. Its title refers to the military and the clergy, the two career paths open to young men of intelligence and ambition but no social standing.


Stendhal’s hero, Julien Sorel, is such a young man. A seminary student, he is nevertheless an admirer of Napoleon, and dreams of military glory. When he is hired to tutor the mayor’s children, he quickly seduces the mayor’s wife, then moves on to Paris where he conquers a nobleman’s daughter. Sorel comes to believe that the secret of success is to outperform the hypocrites and vicious opportunists who surround him—and he’s right. But when the rich and powerful he so admires align against him, his downfall becomes unavoidable.


A master of characterization, Stendhal paints a fascinating, multi-layered portrait of Julien Sorel, who endures as one of literature’s most complex and surprisingly sympathetic—a would-be manipulator out of his depth in a sea of sharks.


Bruce Robbins is Professor of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University. He is the author of Feeling Global: Internationalism in Distress, The Servant’s Hand: English Fiction from Below, and Secular Vocations: Intellectuals, Professionalism, Culture.

Product Details

Barnes & Noble
Publication date:
Barnes & Noble Classics Series
Sold by:
Barnes & Noble
Sales rank:
File size:
2 MB

Read an Excerpt

From Bruce Robbins’s Introduction to The Red and the Black


            Climbing a ladder in the darkness, a young man is about to tap at the window of a woman’s bedroom. This tableau, twice repeated in The Red and the Black, reveals two essential things about the novel. First, Julien Sorel is a social climber, on his way up in the world. And second, seducing the two women who become his lovers, both of them social superiors whose doors he cannot afford to be seen entering, turns out to be the major means of his social ascent.

            The reader is under no obligation to sympathize with this erotic agenda for career advancement, however accidentally the ambitious young protagonist falls into it, or for that matter with the protagonist himself. Again and again, especially in the scenes of romantic courtship, Stendhal takes pains to show Julien’s conduct as animated, if that is the right word, by cold-blooded self-interest more than by genuine passion or desire. A military campaign aimed at conquering the enemy, one of Julien’s favorite metaphors for what he is up to, is not a particularly appetizing way to think about love. Why then have generations of tenderhearted readers found this tough-minded novel so compelling?

            To begin with, it is because Stendhal makes the reader feel how heavy the odds are against ascending the social ladder from the point where Julien starts out. The stubborn incomprehension Julien gets from his peasant father, while it falls somewhat short of monstrous tyranny, does set him up (like Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre) as a sort of nineteenth-century Cinderella: a suffering, sensitive, disadvantaged figure with whom it is almost impossible not to identify, at least at the outset. In bringing this fairy-tale structure forward into the dense, realistically observed detail of early-nineteenth-century France (the novel’s subtitle is “A Chronicle of 1830”), Stendhal also puts French history itself to work in making his protagonist more palatable. Though the Revolution of 1830 is not in fact discussed—the novel was finished before it broke out, and it was his publisher’s idea, not Stendhal’s, to use the subtitle to capitalize on reader interest in this topical and momentous event—one can hardly avoid the sense of unbearably oppressive social weather on the eve of a devastating political thunderstorm. In the period after the defeats of Napoléon in 1813 and 1815, conventionally described as the Restoration (the monarchy was restored to power), the term “reactionary” was not a piece of mud-slinging hyperbole. Hard though it may be for a twenty-first-century reader to take in, the French Revolution’s proposal that democracy should be realized in the world was still, to its opponents, unnatural and terrifying. The people who ruled France during the Restoration were self-consciously reacting against the democratic idea itself, and not merely against the violence of the terror with which that idea had been visited upon the king and the aristocracy. In restoring the monarchy, the rulers were restoring a natural social order in which, as God willed, one’s place was determined by one’s birth. Piety, hierarchy, and social immobility were cherished moral values of the age. Seen against this backdrop, Julien looks a lot more sympathetic. He seems to have little choice but to pretend he believes things he doesn’t believe, like the dogmas of the church. If he wants to improve his lowly condition, history decrees he must be a hypocrite. In love, as in religion and politics, he must ignore the empty banalities he is fed and take a hungrily scientific interest in how the gears and levers of social power really work.

            Stendhal also softens our view of Julien by refusing to offer morally attractive alternatives. When Julien asserts that “‘the people whom the world honors are merely villains who have had the good fortune not to have been caught red-handed’”, he is both a rebel against his time and, less obviously, a representaative of it. Behind the Restoration’s pious façade there was in fact significant social motion, even if such motion was deemed illegitimate and was officially denied. The increasing prosperity of Julien’s shrewdly business-like father, which complicates the image of Julien’s own rise as unique and unprecedented, is an obvious example, and there are others. An amoral skill in worldly matters—what the French call mondanité—was prized even in ecclesiastical circles, as we see in Stendhal’s accounts of priestly maneuverings over church titles and positions, over land, and, in the case of the Abbé Frilair’s dishonorable intentions with regard to Mathilde, over sex. If Julien differs from the people around him, it is in part by being honest with himself, which is to say (given his place at the novel’s center of consciousness) honest with us. And this honesty helps offset the impact his hypocrisy with others has on us.

            To complicate matters further, Stendhal leaves us guessing as to whether Julien’s career might after all embody some higher moral principle than merely getting ahead. What are the deep motives for his social ascent? When his father knocks Julien’s book out of his hands and into the stream beneath the sawmill, the blow is struck not against reading as such; Julien’s talent for memorizing Latin texts, which will do almost as much as his good looks to aid in his rise, has not been discouraged at home. Symbolically, the target is Julien’s passionate attachment to the ideals and accomplishments of the French Revolution and its recently defeated hero, Napoléon. (The book he is absorbed in when caught by his father is a record of conversations with Napoléon from prison.) Stendhal, who had himself marched with Napoléon’s armies in defense of the Revolution, made no secret of his own revolutionary loyalties. Dreaming of a greatness higher than his father’s money-making, Julien acts out his author’s feelings about the sordidness of Restoration France. And in so doing he also acts in the name of upward mobility, which one might have thought entirely consistent with money-making. “Careers open to talent!”, Napoléon’s meritocratic motto, at that moment still sounded (mainly) revolutionary, however ambiguous it may have come to seem since then. Stendhal seemed to think upward mobility could mainly be aligned against money-making. The novel’s early chapters find various ways, subtle and not so subtle, of associating Julien with those still poorer and more unfortunate than himself, like the prisoners on the other side of M. Valenod’s wall, who are stopped from singing so as not to disturb Valenod’s distinguished guests as they carouse. Even the scene in which M. de Rênal decides to hire Julien as his children’s tutor, thereby setting the novel’s plot in motion, is framed by concern—not M. de Rênal’s, of course, but the novel’s—over how the poor of the village are being treated by its constituted authorities. As he climbs his various ladders, Julien somehow carries this concern with him. One of the novel’s ongoing interpretive mysteries is what exactly he is striving for or, more precisely, to what extent his goals transcend the acquisition of money and power for himself.

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Post to your social network


Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews

Red and the Black (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 19 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
My book group decided to read 'The Red and the Black,' and I thought it would be fun to read it in French, side-by-side with an English translation for those spots in which my college French failed me. My first disappointment with this edition was the skimpiness of the endnotes -- a total of 12 for a 532-page book. Unless one is a scholar of French history, this is a book that is much easier to appreciate with some background on the politics of the times. I was shocked, however, by the discovery of some glaring errors in the translation. On p. 17, for instance, 'quatre-vingts' (eighty) is translated as 'ninety', while on p. 34, 'dix-neuf' (nineteen) is translated as 'eighteen.' Also, on p. 45, the translated text states that Mme. Renard is taking a walk with M. Renard, while the original French text states that she is taking a walk with M. Valenod! There are even some sentences in the French text that do not appear in the English text. Where were the proofreaders? It is quite possible that the rest of this translation is flawless, but at this point I gave up in frustration and went in search of a different translation.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Such disparate souls as Richard Posner and Al Gore have named this as one of their favorite books---but you should read it anyway, as Stendhal's wit, psychology, and narrative verve make reading him unlike reading anyone else. I've not finished the new Penguin translation (much needed), and I think that the Slater translation for Oxford catches the style better; but the notes in the Penguin are interesting, as is the intro, and Gard is certainly better than was Richard Howard with his sloppy translation of The Charterhouse of Parma. No one who enjoys 19th-c. fiction should miss this book, and no one who thinks he doesn't should make up his mind before reading it.
Guest More than 1 year ago
One discovers true compassion of literature after reading a piece of art such as this novel. Breathtaking in suspense of the actions the characters take.... I was truly shocked at the outcome of the book yet it was a beautiful closure. This book will have you truly feeling deep compassion in the motives and outcomes of each individual character.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I loved this book.It made me apriciate the freedom of choice that I can practice every day. It's hard for Julien's ambition not to rub off on you. Julien is not the typical heroe he makes more mistakes it seems than he triumphs. He moves up in the world through his education and itelligence, very much the same as it is today exept in post revolution France this was an uncommon and great achievement. Julien is a complex charector who shows traits of a real human. The novel is deeply romantic. Julien will rise to the top only to be thrown down by an inevidable misfortune and a rash descision, the tragic flaw which brings about Julien's downfall. Though tragic, the ending is beutiful and unexpected. So that when you close the last page of the book, you have to just sit there and think for a while,until one word comes to mind 'wow'
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Eh. Ok i guess. Full of errors. Two star.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
[Night] <p> Coolio, Won't tell a soul.
jacobcohen44 More than 1 year ago
I enjoyed this book despite being uncertain of the subject matter. It was very contemporary in many respects and the characters are great. Much of the story matches today's American push for success and dealing with all the vipers and cutthroats that kind of environment creates.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Red the color of dispare.black the time when ages pass.red the blood of angry men. Black the color of dark nights!:) chse
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago