The crux of Mr. Segal’s abilities can be unearthed with finality and elegance in the first five lines of the novel. He is a man of insightful, if not scheming, brilliance and of a quiet nobility not altogether uncommon in a humble intelligentsia overwhelmed by poise and reflection. A novel in its later avatar, Love Story was a passionate debut for Harvard spitter Erich Segal; a radical phenomenon in its time, to further suit a runaway marquee bestseller, it still intractably persists to appeal to soft, productive minds with soulful charm, and its own maverick enthusiasm of dynamism, to let taste a subversive love that blurs social conventions and also survive their prejudices. Getting a transcendent place, one above all the ‘Mills and Boons’ and ‘Danielle Steele’s slotted and multiplied, or being less controversial, in a league of its own, Love Story, although it has had strong and loyal contenders, always favorite homebodies. like ‘Thorn Birds’ and ‘Bridges of Madison County’, but Love Story’s pure and uncorrupted dramatic stability is unscathed, unchallenged, invulnerable.

Love Story is, rather, a well-stocked ‘house of mirrors and illusions’. The characterization is poor, the character development is fantastic; the prose is weak and often painful, but it achieves a flourishing climatic efflorescence; dialogue is offbeat, but concomitantly, offbeat good; the climax is actually an anti-climax, it’s grotesquely saddening, heartbreaking, and it’s all damn cleverly plotted.

From the prima facie, through the serial affair of dating, to the condensed complex puzzles and entanglements of relationships, both platonic and affectionate, to the latest reconciliations, unlike most fiction that suffers and suffers from the Classic Plastic genital trappings and setbacks, arrogant emotion, over-the-top kitsch, and a biting taste of schmaltz, Love Story denies the reader the usual satisfactions and tells a little love story with the courteous and seemingly indescribable realism that is the book’s strong point. and the spring of an incomparable ecstasy.

It is with razor-sharp cunning and elaborate professionalism that Segal writes the story of an influential and amazing athlete, Oliver Barrett IV, and a drab, average Radcliffe beauty, Jennifer Cavilleri. Oliver has elitist roots: Jenny is a working-class girl; Oliver is the quintessential playboy: Jennifer is the quintessential romantic; Oliver is trying to escape the yokes of his past: Jenny fiercely tries to repair them; Extremities in every measure and even in intimate love, seems to occupy the first fraction of the illusions where the reader believes in the strength of the bond regardless of contingencies, he is forced to count on the only rancid possibility of ‘love conquering everything’ .
The second slightly understandable illusion lies in the fact of the basis of the union. Throughout the novel, or short novel if you prefer, the reason for the dialogues has been to establish a terrain of informality and a new and absolute form of disinhibition between the newlyweds. This further corresponds to the aesthetic and behavioral nature of the relationship, making it independent rather than volatile, and resolved rather than spent and nascent. As Rushdie explained, “What is freedom of speech? It cannot be defined without the freedom to offend.” Sex is such a rare breed, well matured, and has such an atypical sense of maturity that the reader is drawn to the simplicity and grounding of what the relationship represents. The use of profanity, slanderous and defamatory words like ‘bitch’ for a wife and a similar manner of addressing a husband is a connotative verdict of closure, a logical sense of wholeness in love that makes the common receptive politics of things without felt as petite, insignificant and inconsequential.

The third and final illusion is that of method. The method conveys, in every way, a riot; a riot that leaves them in a vital interdependence more indispensable than ever, and conveys to the reader that the lovers are united in a segregation as outcasts of society, banished for having provoked social norms and having made them useless, and it is for the reader realization unconscious, a happiness besieged by an impending pathos. Oliver Barrett and Jenny Cavilleri marry against the warnings and admonitions of Oliver’s father, are cast out or exiled from his fortune, live a humble and destitute life in the infancy of their marriage, eschew the common marital conventions of customs and approach marriage in a way that suggests nothing more than the sanctity, chastity, and virtue of such an alliance.

Segal composes this at the height of his abilities, at the height of his fiction, and at the zenith of the realm of his imagination; a compulsive series of best-sellers by Erich Segal would follow Love Story, for example, the inimitable ‘Doctors’, ‘Oliver’s Story’, ‘Acts of Faith’, ‘Man, woman and child’, etc. but none could match the allure and neatness of a novel unsullied by literary fireworks, a story that declared nothing more than the dazzling scope of his nickname.

The essence of Love Story is perhaps also due to its brevity. Where the longest, languid novels drag on unnecessarily, stumbling awkwardly along the margins of apprehensive, unrealistic, contemptible fiction full of tedium and ennui, Segal said it on a softer, softer note, almost a whisper. , with venerable consideration and reverence, with square roots. of impertinence and ingenuous naivete. Segal carelessly denied his readers the satisfaction of Herculean storytelling (a stage in which he demonstrated his great prowess through the colossal page of seven hundred ‘Doctors’), and instead conferred a frivolous essay on the lightness and verdure of the young love, their works. , predicaments, dilemmas, and lofty moments of haunting bliss and wonder, that amaze, captivate, excite, and stir from the most agile to the jaded minds.

Love Story remains, to date and to this day, an unrivaled endeavor, fawningly courting the young dreams of virgin wanderers in the valleys of stormy love, a fragrant seal of the pillars of an earlier generation, and a famous source of a splendid class of religious non-divinity from whom men cannot escape and women cannot avoid, and the world cannot fail to prosper.