Paul Gauguin (1848–1903)

Although based on his journals, Noa Noa is really a crafted memoir of Gauguin's time in Tahiti. At the outset, it seems as if it is going to be a tragic tale of the European seeking to escape alienation by immersing himself in a traditional culture of the colonial sphere, only to find that his condition is inescapable, and that he himself perpetuates it no matter where he goes. And that reading could be sustained--but it's not Gauguin's assertion. Instead, he claims to have succeeded in show more "going native" sufficiently to be spiritually rehabilitated and creatively inspired.

A considerable section toward the end of the book is given over to an attempt to describe indigenous Tahitian religion, with special attention to cosmogonic myths and the rituals involved with the secret society of Areois which is supposed to have ruled the island in the pre-colonial period. Most spectacularly, Gauguin relates his understanding of the Matumua ceremonies transacted with the enthronement of a new king. This rite allegedly culminated in a royal gang-bang: as Gauguin suggests (in more circumspect phrasing), it was a formalized opportunity for the people to screw the king before he'd screw them.

Gauguin's language emphasizes the sensuous throughout, although he refrains from being too explicit regarding the conspicuous erotic contents of his own experiences. His relationship to his eventual native bride offers the unselfconscious intimation that the way he exploits the island paradise may not be so far removed from the other agents of that prudish and dirty Christian civilization he professes to deplore. show less

Paul Gauguin's second prose work was called by him Avant et Aprés, and saw its first publication posthumously as a bound facsimile of the manuscript in 1918. These so-called Intimate Journals are the English translation, first published in 1921 with a preface by Gauguin's son Emil. It would be reasonable to suspect that the shorter Noa Noa, subtitled The Tahitian Journal, was an excerpt from this Intimate Journals work, but they are entirely distinct. Emil Gauguin writes that this later show more work better captured his father's spirit than did the more heavily edited Noa Noa; I certainly found it a livelier and more entertaining read.

The English title doesn't really do justice to the text, the last of which was written in the last year of Gauguin's life, while he was living in the Marquesas. To call it digressive would suggest a central course that is missing from a work that is "not a book," as Gauguin declares at the outset and repeats many times. "I could exist without writing this; but then, why should I not write it?--since I have no other aim than to amuse myself" (161). The book wanders through reminiscences and anecdotes, offers opinions, philosophizes, and cracks wise by turns. Gauguin recounts high points from his personal experiences with Vincent van Gogh, he vituperates against the Catholic Church, he discusses fencing and boxing, he gives vent to his animus against Denmark, he tells stories of his youth and family, he criticizes the colonial police of French Polynesia, and he praises the lost arts of the Marquesans.

The book includes drawings and sketches reproduced from the manuscript, along with a variety of black-and-white reproductions of Gauguin paintings from the holdings of various museums. Inserted by Gauguin into the flow of the text are various letters and articles: one from August Strindberg declining to contribute to an exhibit catalog for Gauguin (42-49), one by Achille Delaroche "Concerning the painter Paul Gauguin, from an aesthetic point of view" (49-55), and several letters by Gauguin himself to the colonial authorities.

"I believe that life has no meaning unless one lives it with a will, at least to the limit of one's will. ... No one is good; no one is evil; everyone is both, in the same way and in different ways. It would be needless to point this out if the unscrupulous were not always saying the opposite." (240) show less

Gauguin was unable to publish this memoir of his two years in Tahiti as he wanted with his woodcuts and without censorship in 1900 because of the prudishness of the day. Today it seems rather mild. He was on a quest for a purity and escape that he never quite found. He documents his perception of the damage done by Europeans to the Tahitian culture and his understanding of their theology as conveyed to him by his young native bride. It's an interesting look at a vanished world the price show more imperialism imposed. His accompanying art is delightful. show less

Love the woodcuts, no need to go beyond the first 30 pages of text to get a feel for the misogyny and fetishism of Gauguin's worldview.