Customer Reviews

Maldoror and the Complete Works of the Comte de Lautréamont

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"The Songs of Maldoror" is not a book--it is a searing, rambling, poisonous "derangement of all the senses" in masquerade. After more than a century it still has the power to shock, startle and repulse. Precisely imagined, "Maldoror" is a fairly obscure classic of late 19th century French literature, and is on par with Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine, Mallarme, etc. You must read this if you love those writers!

Maldoror is the narrator, and sometime character when the narrative shifts unexpectedly into third person, and the alter ego of the mysterious young Comte de Lautreamont--which was the pen name of Isidore Ducasse. Dead by 24, he left behind this time-bomb. Maldoror is a sadist, a murderer, a philosopher, an outcast from the normal order of life. He encourages readers to kidnap a child and torture it, to taste its tears and its blood--all within the first 30 pages. Right on! You are not dealing with a rational, predictable mind here.

One of the book's most fascinating aspects is its continuous imagery of animals, both everyday and exotic, majestic and absurd: sharks, turkeys, crabs, eagles, octopi, tigers, wovles, insects, serpents. These creatures are presented with the sharp eye of the biologist. By likening humanity to animals, Lautreamont achieves a double effect: man comes off as debased and at the same time, elevated: to be like an animal man must be rid of all his pretensions and vanities. It is this pretense to culture and civilized behavior that sicken Lautreamont/Maldoror.

Many passsages still shock and disgust--and yes, entertain with their feverish intensity, particularly the one in which Maldoror copulates with a man-eating shark. A church lantern turns into an angel, deteriorates into pus when Maldoror licks its face, and is soon only "an enormous loathsome wound."

Maldoror also despises God--ostensibly the creator of all this human stupidity and vice. "My poetry shall consist of attacks, by all means, upon that wild beast, man, and the Creator, who should never have begotten such vermin!" When Maldoror confronts God, Maldoror metamorphosizes into a giant octopus and clamps his monstrous new tentacles around His body...

This anti-theistic viewpoint is startling and refreshing compared to the religious aspects of Rimbaud and Baudelaire. This work is a must-read for those interested in avant-garde, bizarre literature; it is also the springboard for Surrealism (with the passage, "As beautiful as the chance meeting on a dissecting table of a sewing maching and an umbrella," Andre Breton saw the future of his imagination). This edition contains a good introduction about the work itself, its language, what "Lautreamont" means, earlier mistranslations, etc. Lykiard's translation is fantastic. Don't hesitate, get this book today!

Lautreamont's *Maldoror* is legendary for its bold and complex phrasing and imagery, for its reputation of embodying Surrealism *avant la lettre*, and for its remarkably extreme, savage imagery. Less frequently remarked is its obvious debt to the earlier literature of the *Frenetiques*, such as Petrus Borel. Given the very few English translations of the latter, one may pardon those who do not read French for overestimating the originality of *Maldoror*. Francophones such as the Surrealists and Lykiard, however, have no such excuse.

The descriptions of *Maldoror* in the various Amazon reviews describe the content and style of the work perfectly well, so I shall neither repeat them nor try to outdo them. Instead, I shall offer a slightly less breathlessly adoring view of the work, in general, and of Lykiard's translation of it, in particular.

My view of *Maldoror* is that it is primarily a parody of the extreme tendencies of the "dark side" of Romanticism, in general, and of Byron, in particular. Although Lykiard dismisses Mario Praz's view of Lautreamont and *Maldoror* rather abruptly, Praz's observations seem quite germane, to me:

"[Lautreamont/Ducasse is] a macabre humorist in whom it is impossible to distinguish where sincerity ends and mystification begins".

Those who doubt this observation should have a look at Ducasse's extant letters, many of which bear witness to his desire merely to be a successful writer, and to be judged by the literary critics of the day. In a word, Ducasse/Lautreamont appears to have been precisely the sort of careerist *litterateur* whom the Surrealists excoriated and excommunicated from their ranks with tedious regularity!

As for Lykiard's translation, it is adequate, perhaps even the best of a bad lot, but that is hardly a compliment. It is certainly far from inspired. Although, as he trumpets *ad nauseam*, his version of *Maldoror* may be in the main less error-riddled than those of his competitors, it is frequently leaden and awkward. Compare, for instance, the following tin-eared rendition to the original, and then to Paul Knight's rendering of the same passage:

The original: "[...] car, à moins qu'il n'apporte dans sa lecture une logique rigoureuse et une tension d'esprit égale au moins à sa défiance, les émanations mortelles de ce livre imbiberont son âme comme l'eau le sucre".

Lykiard: "For unless he bring to his reading a rigorous logic and mental application at least tough enough to balance his distrust, the deadly issues of this book will lap up his soul as water does sugar".

Knight: "[...] for, unless he brings to his reading a rigorous logic and tautness of mind equal at least to his wariness, the deadly emanations of this book will dissolve his soul as water does sugar".

Granted, such evaluations involve much subjectivity, but there's no doubt in my mind which version reads both more accurately and more elegantly in English. Lykiard does, of course, deserve credit for demonstrating Knight's faults, as well, but that fact hardly excuses Lykiard's own errors and infelicities.

Lykiard's notes are not necessarily much better than his translations. To take but one instance, Lykiard tells us that "God is here (and *passim*) ironically addressed as *tu* rather than the more formal *vous*". If Lykiard were as clever as he'd like to appear, then he'd know that the French *always* address God as *tu*, and not as *vous*. Therefore, there is nothing ironic on its face about Lautreamont's usage, at all.

In sum, *Maldoror* is a sometimes powerful, but often puerile, *reductio ad absurdum* of *Frenetique*-era late Romanticism. Enjoy it for its over-the-top style and its infrequent passages of genuine and sincere poetic power. Do not, however, take it too seriously, because, although we shall never know for certain, my bet is that Ducasse/Lautreamont was little more than a prodigiously gifted adolescent who sought, as most adolescents do, simultaneously to shock and to impress the grown-ups.


June 2011--update re. translations: Could the brand-new R. J. Dent translation of *Maldoror* finally be the one that many of us--minus the Lykiard camp followers-- have been awaiting? Stay tuned....

"maldoror" is one of the most intriguing, weird little books i've ever read. every surrealism fiend (like myself) should buy numerous copies of this book. lautreamont advances on every form of authority and convention with an aggressiveness and deadly seriousness that would have made jim morrison shudder, and we find ourselves shivering during parts of this dark but beautiful pearl of a book. maldoror, the outcast monster, is perhaps every alienated person we have scorned and ostracized because of their individuality or uniqueness. he is a furious and vicious being of total revolt, and by the end of this strangely dreamlike, automatic text, we have seen every barrier of civilization and every moral that lays the foundation of society trampled and spat upon. look especially for the scene where maldoror guns down some swimmers in the ocean and then proceeds to have sex with a whale. (i wonder if he wrapped it up!) when andre breton said this book seemed to exceed the limits of human capacity, he wasn't joking. if you're a misanthrope and a disaffected weirdo like myself, you simply cannot miss this. a sometimes startling yet essential celebration of ultimate freedom and absolute rebellion.

As English editions of 'Les chants de Maldoror' go, this is the best translation available today. Don't bother with the Wernham- the language is stilted and captures little of the book's fury that is driven equally by content and by its linguistic style. Because I am in the process of a new translation myself, I am perhaps overly critical. That said, avoid the Wernham.. Lykiard has a far better sense of Lautréamont's poetic project and includes appendices that are truly helpful. For the moment, I think that this is the best bet for English readers. (And yes, the book is incredible, the four stars are for the translation not for the book itself, which defies comparison: a contemporary of Baudelaire, Lautréamont/Ducasse is usually given more credit as a ranting eccentric than a prodigious poet. Later cited by the Surrealists as an important influence, I consider this work to be far more complex and original than the majority of the Surrealist's own work. For an interesting theoretical study of the book, try Alex de Jonge's 'Nightmare Culture' or Paul Zweig's "Lautréamont: The Violent Narcissus'.)

This book is a must-read for all misanthropes! With a nightmarish pre-surrealist quality the author paints various macabre poems in prose around the central figure, Maldoror, a being who rejects the human society to which he cannot belong, and who blames its Creator for all suffering. It is a love/hate poem/novel with the world and with the burden of existence. Very stong and surprising dark imagination! Wild exotic phenomena of science, the naive and crude intensity of adolescence, the savagery of nature and its animals, the juxtaposition of conflicting logic and anti-logic and mind-bending sensory imagery. This book is my bible. The author's work greatly influenced the Dadaists and surrealists who later wrote after WWI. I am presently translating the Entire book in Esperanto: .............................

"A sole few will savour this bitter fruit without danger."

Alexis Lykiard captures the rabid bite, godlike arrogance, swooning eroticism, obnoxiously erudite vocabulary, genius humor, and vortex of profound madness that is Lautreamont's Maldoror. Don't waste your time with a translation that will mar this masterpiese with even a streak of drabness.

As savage as it is beautiful, as challenging as it is rewarding, Les Chants de Maldoror is an inspired and disquieting exploration of the evil humans are capable of. I have read several translations, and this one is by far the best.

I like my writers drunk, blasphemous, decadent and French. If any of that list sounds even vaguely familiar then this is the book for you. Set the absinthe fountain to a slow drip, light some candles and prepare to tour an alchemical end-of-the-century underworld.

Isidore Ducasse's or Comte de Lautreamont's 'Les Chants de Maldoror' is a book one can contemplate over it's themes of darkness.
The songs of Maldoror is essentially an occult view of the world.
For good and evil are seen as equally important and mutually linked forces in nature, divorced from the moral content given to them by human beings. This is even noticeable in the name of the book's hero: Maldoror, which is a pun on 'mal d'aurore' (evil of dawn), the combination of darkness and light.
The book's phrase 'as beautiful as a chance meeting on a dissection table of a sewing machine and an umbrella' was also very important for the surrealists. It was valued because it was absolutely original in its combination of a banal object from everyday life with something that carries sinister and morbid overtones. The phrase also consists of a paradox, two of these objects have an constructive and therefore positive function, while the third has a dissecting and destructive, and therefore negative function. Yet these are only inanimate objects, it is only our imagination that puts "life" into them and give them these qualities.
It was this paradoxical metaphor that led Breton to describe Lautreaumont as the "unattackable".
The book also mocks science in its attempt to impose a static and rational order upon nature and attacks the belief that humanity is superior to the natural world. Religion is seen as an absurd delusion and god is seen as an unworthy, ineffectual, pathetic drunkard, scorned by the animals he is meant to have created.
This book can be seen as a belief that the "traditionally ugly" can be transmuted to an aesthetic value. When the socially conditioned fear of the ugly has been overcome, pleasure and psychological power are acquired.
Salvador Dali wrote:
"Repugnance is the sentry standing right near the door to those things that we desire most".

What to say about Maldoror that hasn't been said yet? What to say about the mysterious son of a diplomat who appeared in France, wrote this book and died, vanishing from the world, yet leaving his mark for decades and centuries yet to come?
The first time I had the pleasure of reading this exceptional work, I was taken aback. Barely seventeen, I hungrily swallowed the disturbing images leaping at me from the pages, not to fully comprehend them until years later. This work, over a century old, is believed to be the first work, the foundation stone of the surrealist movement, a movement that penetrated into every aspect of art, life, being; whether we are willing to admit it or not, this work is as important today as it was when originally published in 1868 (well, at least a part of it was). The world was not ready to receive the complete self-awarness of evil Maldoror so fully comprehends, and the world is still not ready. This work is certainly not to be read by a "closed" mind. It is said that to be creative, one must borderline insanity, yet, Lautreamont was playing with genius; a genius of a caliber capable of scaring away even the most immodest of us. But get deeper into his work, walk past the disturbed images, surpass your fears and you shall see the light. This work cannot be ignored, cannot be left to collect dust. I have owned several copies over the past 14 years, and I am still finding new meanings, new passages and new understanding in this wonderful work. This trully is the one book that will never get old, that will always keep on giving, as long as one is ready to listen.