![]() This is about Genet making love to himself. Genet writes such lush, evocative scenes that the sex that may or may not occur is immaterial. Yes there are explicitly written parts, but do not categorize this book as pornography or a book of cheap thrills. To be more specific this is a collection of fantasies that Genet wrote while in prison to help him achieve a chain of orgasms. This book is an ode to onanistic activities or in other words masturbation. I took a chance mainly because I like Sartre and he did a wonderful job of preparing me for what I was about to experience. Many introductions also assume that the reader has read the book previously. I'm sometimes on the fence about introductions, especially long introductions, Sartre's intro is 49 pages, because I think sometimes they suck the life out of the novel before you even have a chance to read the first page. I was fortunate that the edition I chose to read included the Jean-Paul Sartre introduction. I think everybody who tries to write a review about Our Lady of the Flowers starts out confounded, befuddled, muddled as to where to start because for one thing Genet's writing style has jumbled up the coherent, organized part of your brain. “The despondency that follows makes me feel somewhat like a shipwrecked man who spies a sail, sees himself saved, and suddenly remembers that the lens of his spyglass has a flaw, a blurred spot - the sail he has seen.” ![]() ![]() She went to get the revolver, which had long since been loaded by a most considerate Providence, and when she held it in her hand, weighty as a phallus in action, she realized she was big with murder, pregnant with a corpse.īut even in the vilest of all the vile worlds one may find some morbid and rotten beauty… Without bringing her back to reality, for she never left reality, the arrangement of the setting obliged her to shake off the dream. Slowly displacing volumes of fetid air, cutting threads from which hang bouquets of feelings, seeing the gypsy for whom I am looking emerge perhaps from some starry river, wet, with mossy hair, playing the fiddle, diabolically whisked away by the scarlet velvet portiere of a cabaret.Īs a particularly vicious demiurge Jean Genet creates his own world which is even more nauseous and nefarious than the one he lives in… The motivation of behaviour and all the actions in this perverted world is meanness, avarice and lewdness. What is involved for me who is making up this story? In reviewing my life, in tracing its course, I fill my cell with the pleasure of being what for want of a trifle I failed to be, recapturing, so that I may hurl myself into them as into dark pits, those moments when I strayed through the trap-ridden compartments of a subterranean sky. So Jean Genet resides in the world of his obscene and sinful fantasies…
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