I just finished reading La Princesse Lointaine (The Princess Far-Away) by Edmond Rostand (translated by Charles Renauld), first published in 1895, and I loved it. I stumbled across this play and went into it knowing practically nothing about the play or the author. It’s superbly crafted and I was drawn into it almost immediately.

Rostand perfectly blends romanticism with a sense of realism to create a deeply affecting story. The language is beautiful, the characters sharply drawn and memorable. One quickly sees a representation of the romantic ideal, but I also read it as something akin to Viktor Frankl’s existential diagnosis of life and the need to find or create a source of meaning.

“I love grand hopes and dreams with limit none; 
I envy too the fate of Icarus, 
Who sought above the purer breath of life! 
And, if I fall to-day as fall did he, 
I love no less the cause for which I die.”