Analysis

There are a few different reasons why Zola refrains from naming his characters in the
first chapter. First, Zola is determined to set a mood of filthiness, squalor, and
hopelessness: he focuses on how uncomfortably closed-in the Passage du Pont-Neuf is,
and describes how its walls seem to be stricken with leprosy and crisscrossed with
scars (9). Filling in the names and histories of his characters could distract from this
task. But perhaps Thrse and her family also remain unnamed because Zola wants to
suggest that there are many filthy corners of Paris just like this one that in different
parts of the same city, the same kind of depressing scenes are being played out by
nameless, interchangeable people.
The second chapter of Thrse Raquin doesnt simply explain who the Raquins are; it
also explains the urges and motivations behind some of the odd reactions that Thrse
exhibits in the first chapter. We learn that Thrse looks out at her surroundings with
contemptuous indifference (12). And soon enough, the reasons for her contempt are
explained: her repressed passions, her wild and unrealized dreams, probably even her
family heritage. A closed-in Paris street seems like a poor setting for the daughter of an
adventurous French sea captain and an Algerian mother, and Thrse becomes aware of
this disparity between her lifestyle and her heredity as she grows older.
Another virtue of the first chapter is that it strikes the mood of disappointment that Zola
returns to so often. The narrowness and darkness of the Passage du Pont-Neuf arent
simply realistic details; they symbolize the set of narrow possibilities that Thrse is
offered in life and seem to point to her dark future. Even when her future isnt decidedly
bleak, it involves choices that are both inevitable and insipid, such as Thrses
marriage to Camille.
Thrses hopelessness is given a new turn by the appearance of Old Michaud and the
other guests. She barely regards these Thursday evening visitors as human beings,
viewing them instead as horrid, living decorations: mechanical bodies whose heads
moved and whose arms and legs waved when their strings were pulled or paper dolls
grimacing around her (25). Thus, Thrses wild animal energy is stunted in another
way, since she is only given these predictable, half-dead companions.
All of these depressing details make the arrival of Laurent seem like a miraculous
departure from the usual conditions of Thrses life. The robust Laurent is a foil to the
sickly and complacent Camille, but this does not mean that Laurent has the better
character; in fact, Camilles diligence and loyalty to his mother can seem admirable
compared to Laurents shortsighted unwillingness to obey his father. Thrse, though,
has little time for such distinctions and seems to be craving a way out of her stolid life.
But there is another change that Laurents presence brings: a shift in the novels use of
perspective. While the first few chapters cover Mme Raquin, Camille, and mostly
Thrse, the rest of the book will take Laurent as one of its dominant - if not the
dominant - perspectives.
In the course of these chapters, Laurent begins an affair with Camilles wife and is
driven to murder Camille himself. It would be wrong, however to identify Camille as
Laurents antagonist. Laurent is on intimate terms with Camille, but felt no anger or

remorse towards him, and murders Camille mostly to remove an obstacle, to ensure
himself the life of sensual pleasures and financial stability that he believes Thrse - and
her inheritance - will offer (42).
Thrse and Camille are a different story; here, there is a clear protagonist-antagonist
relationship, though Camille himself is fatally unaware of Thrses hostile feelings. For
the first time in the novel, Thrse voices her long-lived resentments in detail. She tells
Laurent of her infuriating, stupefying upbringing: Oh, what a childhood I had! I still
feel revulsion and outrage when I remember the long days I spent I that room with
Camille gasping away (37). Because Laurent and Thrse can only make love in Mme
Raquins apartment, Thrse is (ironically enough) still trapped in Camilles room. She
is enlivened by love, but still cannot escape her limitations and resentments.
However, these chapters do entail a rare departure from the Passage du Pont-Neuf. For
the first time, we are given a direct look into the miserable lodging house Laurent rents,
occupying a garret apartment that Zola compares to a "hovel" and a "hole." Thrse
enters this space and finds that it is "so small that her wide skirts could hardly fit inside
it" (47). The problem that Laurent and Thrse face may not simply be one of social
boundaries and frustrated hopes; whether they know it or not, the closed and cramped
settings that they both inhabit may be driving them to a state of restless, keyed-up fury.
Ultimately, Laurent is driven to murder Camille by his own frustrations, by his craving
for Thrse: A raging of the blood had infected his flesh and now that his mistress was
being taken away from him, his passion burst out with a blind fury (46). On the basis
of such irrational instincts, it would be natural to expect Laurent to commit a reckless
and impassioned crime - yet he does just the opposite. He carefully thinks through all
his options and takes precautions to avoid detection. He even briefly considers killing
Camille using a blunt and bloody act of violence - raising his foot to crush the sleeping
Camilles head - but is rational enough to see how easily this murder would be solved.
The murder that Laurent commits is a flawless piece of savagery: it looks like an
accident and leaves no incriminating clues. Laurent even leaves the impression that he
had ardently and heroically tried to save the drowning Camille. Although Zola
constantly points out how different Thrse and Laurent are in temperament, the two
protagonists have found one major point of similarity by the end of this chapter. They
have both become proficient in the art of deception
Analysis

As soon as Camille is gone, Laurent feels a heavy, anxious feeling of joy, joy at having
accomplished the crime (64). But once again, he is able to perfectly conceal his true
feelings and motives from those around him. He does so by seeking out the last people
that a newly-minted criminal would normally seek: police officials, in this case Old
Michaud and Olivier. There is a smug, self-satisfied air that surrounds Laurent in the
initial days following the crime. Instead of fleeing a milieu of crime and investigation,

Laurent gravitates to settings that resonate with his murderous new status, including
Pariss own house of death, the Morgue.
But in a positive sense too, these chapters present both Thrse and Laurent with the
potential to begin life anew, or at least to embrace new selves. Thrse begins reading
novels, which is in some ways the perfect recreation for her nervous temperament; she
reads about emotional characters and becomes passionately fond of the heroes of all
the stories that she read (82). While reading transports Thrse away from her dingy
shop and into a world full of heroic and interesting people - people she can finally
identify with - Laurent uses his newfound leisure to take a new mistress and loaf around
Paris, all stresses gone or forgotten.
Zola underscores these changes and new possibilities by way of contrast. While Thrse
and Laurent are transformed by the murder of Camille, the Thursday evening guests
simply carry on as though nothing major had happened. And for the newly-relieved
lovers, even these tedious meetings take on a hint of pleasure. Laurent feels at ease
among these few people that he knew and is not afraid to survey Thrse with pride
and satisfaction (79).
Yet by the end of these chapters, Zola makes it clear that the release that Thrse and
Laurent feel is an illusion, a byproduct of their frequent distance from one another.
Throughout Thrse Raquin, Laurent is portrayed as capable of rationalizing his
decisions and thinking through his actions and impulses. But these rational abilities are
rendered powerless by the terrible phantasm - Camilles drowned corpse - that comes to
haunt Laurent at night, reducing the strong young man to a state of insomnia and to a
childlike fear of the dark.
The nightmare vision of Camille is delivered almost entirely from Laurents perspective,
and on a first read, it might be tempting to write this vision off as a result of Laurents
superstitious peasant blood. (Remember, Laurent has an almost supernatural fear of the
cat Franois, which Thrse does not share.) Zola, however, quickly defeats the idea
that all this is a fleeting over-reaction. The two murderers understand one another
perfectly, even without speaking, and are determined to unite against the terror they
had shared - the horrifying figure of the drowned Camille (93). The "perfect" crime
begins to shadow their lives.

Analysis
Early in these chapters, Zola signals that Thrse and Laurent have one and the same
perspective: An affinity of blood and lust had been established between them. They
shuddered the same shudders and, in their hearts, a sort of agonizing fellowship ached
with the same terror (94). Formerly, Zola took great pains to differentiate the sanguine
Laurent and the nervous Thrse. The temperamental differences between the two
murderers have not yet broken down - Thrse wants to marry because she fears a

nervous crisis, while Laurent cautiously weighs the costs and benefits of a union - yet
the deadly links between the two characters are becoming tighter.
None of the other characters have the least hint of how trapped Laurent and Thrse
feel. The two protagonists realize this, and they decide to speed along their marriage by
staging a further set of manipulations. In order to win Mme Raquin over to the idea of a
new marriage, Thrse adopts an especially interesting ploy. She neither conceals her
negative state of mind nor fully reveals it - instead, she strikes a note that is dour enough
to arouse Mme Raquins concern, but not to suggest her true psychological torture.
Mme Raquin is indeed convinced that Thrse has retreated into herself and seemed to
be dying of some unknown sickness (99). She misdiagnoses the sickness as maidenly
loneliness, though Thrse is in fact dying of neurotic terror.
As the narrative moves forward, Thrse and Laurent continued to be grouped together
in emphatic ways. They are not simply companions in sorrow. Despite their nocturnal
torments, they manage to share a few sympathetic joys; for instance, on their wedding
morning they wake up with the same profoundly joyful thought: they told themselves
that their last night of terror was over (108). Even their acquaintances regard them in
terms of similarity, and Mme Raquin regards them not as bride and groom, but as her
two dear children (104).
It is clear that Mme Raquin and the Thursday guests are eager for a new beginning. Yet
as with the resumption of the Thursday evenings, this new beginning is less of a
radical, refreshing departure and more of a return to the same comforting, stupefying
routines. By the time of the wedding party, Grivet is back to his stupid jokes and Mme
Raquin is mostly her affectionate old self. And the idea of the new husband and wife as
children is itself a return to form, since Mme Raquin also regarded the married
Camille and Thrse as her children. Laurent is simply a new child, occupying
exactly the same place that Camille once occupied in Mme Raquins household and
affections. Eerily enough, he becomes a double for his murder victim.
For Thrse and Laurent, Camilles lingering influence isnt merely impossible to
escape; indeed, Camilles influence starts to take on new forms. During their wedding
night, the newlyweds are vexed by Camilles long-disregarded portrait and alarmed by
Mme Raquins tabby cat, whom Laurent equates with Camille. Laurent doesnt even
have the limited comfort of being able to toss off the earlier manifestations of Camille,
since the drowned mans scar remains on his neck, resisting any and all soothing efforts.