Community Reviews
Be advised: This is not casual reading.
When I first heard about Candide, it was described as a fast-paced satirical romp, a story of one man stumbling from folly to folly. What I wasn’t told, however, was that these so-called follies include some of the most horrific acts humans can inflict on one another: sexual assault, torture, slavery, cannibalism - all repeated relentlessly from beginning to end, with little reprieve. It may be short and quick to read, but I wouldn’t call it enjoyable.
To be fair, it’s impossible to critique Candide responsibly without placing it in its historical and philosophical context. But many readers - myself included - will likely approach this as a standalone work, not as part of a course or specialized study. A writer and philosopher of the Enlightenment period, Voltaire was an advocate for civil liberties and criticized intolerance and religion through satire. Candide was written as a direct satire of the optimistic worldview promoted by German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Leibniz was a champion of Theodicy, which argued that because this world was created by a perfect God, it must be the best of all possible worlds. Voltaire found this belief dangerously naive and willfully ignorant of real human suffering. Candide was his rebuttal.
In that light, the book’s parade of suffering serves a purpose: to dismantle the idea that everything happens for a reason. Cruelty, injustice, and misfortune follow Candide everywhere, yet he clings to Leibnizian optimism despite it all. Philosophically, this was a sharp, biting satire of its time. But narratively, it’s exhausting.
Many of the worst horrors presented don’t happen to Candide himself, but to those around him - especially women. Cunegonde, the object of Candide’s obsessive love, and her companion, simply called “The Old Woman,” endure repeated violence, forced servitude, and degradation at the hands of almost every man they meet. Yet because of the satirical tone and Voltaire’s aim to shock rather than humanize, their suffering is often brushed aside or played for absurdity. Add to this the highly racialized language and characterizations throughout, and the experience becomes harder to stomach for a modern reader. To offer a modern equivalent: it reads like one long "Aristocrats" joke.
There’s no doubt Candide holds historical and intellectual significance. But as a work to pick up for pleasure or even casual insight, I can’t recommend it. Its value lies in philosophical context - and that’s exactly where it should stay.
When I first heard about Candide, it was described as a fast-paced satirical romp, a story of one man stumbling from folly to folly. What I wasn’t told, however, was that these so-called follies include some of the most horrific acts humans can inflict on one another: sexual assault, torture, slavery, cannibalism - all repeated relentlessly from beginning to end, with little reprieve. It may be short and quick to read, but I wouldn’t call it enjoyable.
To be fair, it’s impossible to critique Candide responsibly without placing it in its historical and philosophical context. But many readers - myself included - will likely approach this as a standalone work, not as part of a course or specialized study. A writer and philosopher of the Enlightenment period, Voltaire was an advocate for civil liberties and criticized intolerance and religion through satire. Candide was written as a direct satire of the optimistic worldview promoted by German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Leibniz was a champion of Theodicy, which argued that because this world was created by a perfect God, it must be the best of all possible worlds. Voltaire found this belief dangerously naive and willfully ignorant of real human suffering. Candide was his rebuttal.
In that light, the book’s parade of suffering serves a purpose: to dismantle the idea that everything happens for a reason. Cruelty, injustice, and misfortune follow Candide everywhere, yet he clings to Leibnizian optimism despite it all. Philosophically, this was a sharp, biting satire of its time. But narratively, it’s exhausting.
Many of the worst horrors presented don’t happen to Candide himself, but to those around him - especially women. Cunegonde, the object of Candide’s obsessive love, and her companion, simply called “The Old Woman,” endure repeated violence, forced servitude, and degradation at the hands of almost every man they meet. Yet because of the satirical tone and Voltaire’s aim to shock rather than humanize, their suffering is often brushed aside or played for absurdity. Add to this the highly racialized language and characterizations throughout, and the experience becomes harder to stomach for a modern reader. To offer a modern equivalent: it reads like one long "Aristocrats" joke.
There’s no doubt Candide holds historical and intellectual significance. But as a work to pick up for pleasure or even casual insight, I can’t recommend it. Its value lies in philosophical context - and that’s exactly where it should stay.
I picked this up for classics bookclub. I had been told that it was funny in a satirical way. I didn't find it funny, though. There were a lot of topics that made me uncomfortable. I think, though, that it was satire, but it didn't age well.
I look at this as a book that I've read, but don't have to ever read again. It really didn't stand the test of time.
I look at this as a book that I've read, but don't have to ever read again. It really didn't stand the test of time.
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
refrain from, "All Things Bright and Beautiful"
Mario Vargas Llosa referred to “Candide” as the perfect example of literary insolence. What authors are writing "insolent" fiction these days? Is it even possible? Anyway, you probably have heard of Dr. Pangloss, and this quote in particular:
"..all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles."
Reminds me of the Banana Fallacy:
"Behold, the atheists' nightmare. Now if you study a well-made banana, you'll find, on the far side, there are three ridges. On the close side, two ridges. If you get your hand ready to grip a banana, you'll find on the far side there are three grooves, on the close side, two grooves. The banana and the hand are perfectly made, one for the other. You'll find the maker of the banana, Almighty God, has made it with a non-slip surface. It has outward indicators of inward contents — green: too early; yellow: just right; black: too late. Now if you go to the top of the banana, you'll find, as with the soda can makers have placed a tab at the top, so God has placed a tab at the top. When you pull the tab, the contents don't squirt in your face. You'll find a wrapper which is biodegradable, has perforations. Notice how gracefully it sits over the human hand. Notice it has a point at the top for ease of entry. It's just the right shape for the human mouth. It's chewy, easy to digest and its even curved toward the face to make the whole process so much easier. Seriously, Kirk, the whole of creation testifies to the genius of God's creation."
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
refrain from, "All Things Bright and Beautiful"
Mario Vargas Llosa referred to “Candide” as the perfect example of literary insolence. What authors are writing "insolent" fiction these days? Is it even possible? Anyway, you probably have heard of Dr. Pangloss, and this quote in particular:
"..all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles."
Reminds me of the Banana Fallacy:
"Behold, the atheists' nightmare. Now if you study a well-made banana, you'll find, on the far side, there are three ridges. On the close side, two ridges. If you get your hand ready to grip a banana, you'll find on the far side there are three grooves, on the close side, two grooves. The banana and the hand are perfectly made, one for the other. You'll find the maker of the banana, Almighty God, has made it with a non-slip surface. It has outward indicators of inward contents — green: too early; yellow: just right; black: too late. Now if you go to the top of the banana, you'll find, as with the soda can makers have placed a tab at the top, so God has placed a tab at the top. When you pull the tab, the contents don't squirt in your face. You'll find a wrapper which is biodegradable, has perforations. Notice how gracefully it sits over the human hand. Notice it has a point at the top for ease of entry. It's just the right shape for the human mouth. It's chewy, easy to digest and its even curved toward the face to make the whole process so much easier. Seriously, Kirk, the whole of creation testifies to the genius of God's creation."
Wow! Fast-paced, biting, makes-you-wonder-why-you-had-to-be-a-part-of-humanity satire. Read it. It won't take long. Just don't listen to the musical version first.
Satire. Though I agree with Voltaire's premise, satire is best kept short as it makes for bad fiction. This was short but not nearly short enough. The first few chapters would have been enough to refute the idea that we live in the best possible world (and that no, everything does not happen for a reason).
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