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Le Comte de Lautréamont was the nom de plume of Isidore Ducasse (1846–70), a Uruguayan-born French writer and poet whose only surviving major work of fiction, Les Chants de Maldoror, was discovered by the Surrealists, who hailed the work as a dark progenitor of their movement. It was in Les Chants de Maldoror that André Breton discovered the phrase that would come to represent the Surrealist doctrine of objective chance: “as beautiful as the random encounter between an umbrella and a sewing-machine upon a dissecting-table.” Artists inspired by Lautréamont include Man Ray, René Magritte, Max Ernst, André Masson, Joan Miró, Yves Tanguy and, in particular, Salvador Dalí, who in 1933 produced an entire series of illustrations for Les Chants de Maldoror. Twenty of those illustrations are included, for the first time, in this new, definitive edition of Lautréamont’s influential masterpiece. Vividly translated by R. J. Dent—the first new translation for over thirty years—this edition also includes a foreword by French Surrealist poet Paul Eluard and a concise biography of the author by poet Jeremy Reed. In addition, an introduction by series editor Candice Black details the links between Maldoror and the Surrealist movement.… (more)
It would perhaps be best to separate this Exact Change version translated by Alexis Lykiard from any other versions, particularly the ones, such as the Penguin Classics Edition, that he calls "travesties" in his bibliography. I don't think I've ever read a translated work, in fact, where the translator make such an effort to make fun of previous translations and to give examples of those translators' idiotic decisions. Apparently, in some cases they didn't understand what the author was saying and just made something up of their own. This edition is hailed as the best by objective reviewers who actually know how to read French--so Lykiard is perhaps correct, but it is still jarring. STILL, I'M GLAD I DIDN'T MAKE THE MISTAKE OF BUYING THE PENGUIN CLASSIC EDITION!
As for the book itself--the physical book, that is--the type size is at least one size to small, as if they couldn't afford a book with more pages, so they just made it hard to read. I didn't have to resort to a magnifying glass by any means, but given the length of Lautréamont's (real name Isidore Ducasse) paragraphs in Maldoror and the density and complexity of the text, having to navigate the small type just made a hard job even harder. There are also lots of footnotes, some of which are helpful in understanding the text, although others are just the original French versions of the texts that Lautréamont has slightly altered in Poesies. I would have preferred the footnotes to be on the same page.
As for the works....
Maldoror *** Someday, when I am ensconced in an old age home with a nice reading room where inmates may contribute works of their own, I will leave this on a shelf for some unsuspecting, adventurous person of sufficient eyesight. He or she will probably be mystified and appalled by much or all of Maldoror. It starts off pretty interestingly, and I can't say that the quality really falls off, but the density of the haphazard narrative, which sets out deliberately to be confusing, eventually wears even a devoted reader down. By halfway through, I could get through a few pages a day, but I often turned to things that were less stressful. Still, once I finished, and once my future fellow inmate/victim finished, we will at least feel like we have been introduced to a unique, doomed-to-die at 24 personality. It is pretty difficult to put yourself into his narrative frame of mind, but perhaps if Poe had become totally unhinged and insane, something like this might have been the result. Or, more likely, it is a one-off artifact that can't be duplicated. In any case, it has some interesting parts, and devoured slowly, with the proper stimulant, might be worth a re-read. So many of the author's references to contemporary and recent French literature and culture will be lost, however, even with the help of the footnotes.
Poesies *1/2 The other major part of the volume is Poesies, whose purpose and meaning are even more obscure. Much of it consists of slightly altered versions of things other people said. And lots of ranting and criticism of Victor Hugo and others. Only someone truly devoted to French literature could find much interest here.
Letters and Miscellanea **1/2 These are a little interesting and certainly easier to read! They include some interesting reminiscences and contemporary reactions to Lautréamont's work.
One of the most radical examples of occidental literature, written by a French twen, who died at the age of twenty-four. He describes the beauty of a teenager as follows: "He is as beautiful as the accidental encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on a morgue slab."
May it please heaven that the reader, emboldened and having for the time being as fierce as what he is reading, should, without being led astray, find his rugged and treacherous way across the desolate swamps of these sombre and poison-filled pages; for, unless he brings to his reading a rigorous logic and a tautness of mind equal at least to his wariness, the deadly emanations of this book will dissolve his soul as water does sugar.
Le Comte de Lautréamont was the nom de plume of Isidore Ducasse (1846–70), a Uruguayan-born French writer and poet whose only surviving major work of fiction, Les Chants de Maldoror, was discovered by the Surrealists, who hailed the work as a dark progenitor of their movement. It was in Les Chants de Maldoror that André Breton discovered the phrase that would come to represent the Surrealist doctrine of objective chance: “as beautiful as the random encounter between an umbrella and a sewing-machine upon a dissecting-table.” Artists inspired by Lautréamont include Man Ray, René Magritte, Max Ernst, André Masson, Joan Miró, Yves Tanguy and, in particular, Salvador Dalí, who in 1933 produced an entire series of illustrations for Les Chants de Maldoror. Twenty of those illustrations are included, for the first time, in this new, definitive edition of Lautréamont’s influential masterpiece. Vividly translated by R. J. Dent—the first new translation for over thirty years—this edition also includes a foreword by French Surrealist poet Paul Eluard and a concise biography of the author by poet Jeremy Reed. In addition, an introduction by series editor Candice Black details the links between Maldoror and the Surrealist movement.
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5
As for the book itself--the physical book, that is--the type size is at least one size to small, as if they couldn't afford a book with more pages, so they just made it hard to read. I didn't have to resort to a magnifying glass by any means, but given the length of Lautréamont's (real name Isidore Ducasse) paragraphs in Maldoror and the density and complexity of the text, having to navigate the small type just made a hard job even harder. There are also lots of footnotes, some of which are helpful in understanding the text, although others are just the original French versions of the texts that Lautréamont has slightly altered in Poesies. I would have preferred the footnotes to be on the same page.
As for the works....
Maldoror ***
Someday, when I am ensconced in an old age home with a nice reading room where inmates may contribute works of their own, I will leave this on a shelf for some unsuspecting, adventurous person of sufficient eyesight. He or she will probably be mystified and appalled by much or all of Maldoror. It starts off pretty interestingly, and I can't say that the quality really falls off, but the density of the haphazard narrative, which sets out deliberately to be confusing, eventually wears even a devoted reader down. By halfway through, I could get through a few pages a day, but I often turned to things that were less stressful. Still, once I finished, and once my future fellow inmate/victim finished, we will at least feel like we have been introduced to a unique, doomed-to-die at 24 personality. It is pretty difficult to put yourself into his narrative frame of mind, but perhaps if Poe had become totally unhinged and insane, something like this might have been the result. Or, more likely, it is a one-off artifact that can't be duplicated. In any case, it has some interesting parts, and devoured slowly, with the proper stimulant, might be worth a re-read. So many of the author's references to contemporary and recent French literature and culture will be lost, however, even with the help of the footnotes.
Poesies *1/2
The other major part of the volume is Poesies, whose purpose and meaning are even more obscure. Much of it consists of slightly altered versions of things other people said. And lots of ranting and criticism of Victor Hugo and others. Only someone truly devoted to French literature could find much interest here.
Letters and Miscellanea **1/2
These are a little interesting and certainly easier to read! They include some interesting reminiscences and contemporary reactions to Lautréamont's work.
I wish I could like this more...
Maybe someday. (