Readers and book clubs, this page is for you! The author has compiled this series of questions to accompany your reading and spark discussion. Please click on “Comment” at the bottom of the page to share your thoughts. Enjoy, and happy reading!
Antoine Watteau. L’Embarquement pour Cythere, 1717. Musée du Louvre, Paris. Oil on canvas. 50 3/4 x 76 3/8 inches.
Antoine Watteau. Ceres (Summer), 1717. National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Oil on canvas. 55 7/8 x 45 3/16 inches.
Samuel H. Kress Collection
Antoine Watteau. La Buveuse. ca. 1715. Musée Cognacq-Jay, Paris. Red, black, and white chalk on paper. 6 5/8 x 7 5/8 inches.
Title page of Emile Dacier and Albert Vuaflart. Jean de Jullienne et les graveurs de Watteau au XVIII Siècle. 4 vols. Paris, 1929. This is a reprint of the extremely rare Recueil Jullienne (Paris, 1735) with the addition of valuable documentary sources. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
How is Pierre Crozat’s first meeting with his son, Jean-Philippe, shaped by his role as art collector (Prologue, pp. 9-10)? How does it continue to shape their relations?
Compare the description of the concert on pp. 20-21 of the Prologue with the painting A Concert in the Grand Salon of Pierre Crozat at Paris, painted by Watteau’s contemporary, Nicholas Lancret. What is the same, and what is different? In the end, do the similarities and/or differences really matter to the novel?
What intrigues Beth during her first meeting with Halls (Chapter Two, pp. 66-70)? Does he have to be a foreigner for purposes of this novel?
At Rosie’s, on Tchoupitoulas Street, Beth recites a few lines from Keats’ Ode to a Grecian Urn (Chapter Four, pp. 102-103). What do we learn from this scene about each of our two main characters? Can you think of another poem that expresses the same idea?
The final scene of Chapter Six finds Beth and Halls sitting on the front steps of her house, looking at a picture of Watteau’s Embarkation for Cythera. Why does Halls’ interpretation of the painting upset Beth so much, and how are the professor’s words, spoken so sadly at parting, beginning to resonate with her?
Where is the first indication that Beth realizes she is falling for Halls?
During her visit with Halls to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., Beth comes face to face with a painting that she has only seen, up until now, through reproductions in books. Can you identify with her sense of wonder at seeing the actual painting before her? Have you had a similar experience?
In Chapter Seven, Beth shows Halls a preliminary sketch by Watteau of the young woman in the painting of Autumn and finds an important difference between them. Examine the sketch, which is formally entitled La Buveuse, and then re-read Beth’s thoughts about it on pp. 169-170. Do you agree with her conclusions?
In Chapter Eight, Beth goes on a search for Watteau’s missing Autumn, convinced that Jean-Philippe had brought the painting with him from France. Why, as Halls points out on p. 207, do you think Beth made the mistake of thinking the document read “Nouvelle Orleans,” when in fact it only read “Nouvelle” and then broke off?
Will the “tangle of moonflowers and fireflies” console Beth, in some way, for not finding the missing painting (Chapter Eight, p. 210)? Does it console you?
There are two concerts in the novel: one at Pierre Crozat’s mansion in Paris (pp. 20-21) and one at Loyola University in New Orleans (Chapter Ten, pp. 230-231). They both feature French music from the 17th century, but what theme do their selections have in common and how does that theme run through the novel as a whole?
Re-read the last two paragraphs of the novel. What do they tell us about the way Beth is processing that final scene with Halls?
How does the title The Autumn of Watteau take on new meaning at the end of the novel?
And one last question . . .
The novel reflects a time when people needed actual, physical books in order to conduct research. Great libraries were a necessity in those days before computers. The Autumn of Watteau takes place in the early 1980s; note that Beth uses a card catalogue during her research at Tulane Library and that there is not a single computer in the novel. Nowhere in the novel, perhaps, is the difference more striking than in the case of the book containing the engravings of Watteau’s work: Jean de Jullienne et les graveurs de Watteau au XVIII Siècle, which Beth consults in Chapter Five. As the professor rightly notes, the four volumes of this book are rare indeed: lucky for Beth that she had a novelist on hand to make sure she got them! Otherwise, that might have been the end of her research, for Tulane Library – so rich in other respects - does not really have these books, after all. In today’s digital world, however, Beth could simply shrug her shoulders at this bit of news, sit down at a computer, and with the click of a mouse access all four volumes of the superb online edition. In no time at all, she would be gazing at the very images for which she had searched so eagerly. All’s well that ends well; is that not how the Bard put it?
And yet, the question remains: what have we gained by such instant accessibility - and what might we also have lost? Try and put your answer into words.