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Stranded: En Rade
J.-K. Huysmans' Stranded (En Rade 1887), published just three years after the iconoclastic Against Nature, sees him again breaking new ground and pushing back the boundaries of the novel form. Stamped throughout with his characteristic black humour, Stranded is one of Huysmans' most innovative, most imaginative works. Jacques' waking reveries and daydreams are balanced by a succession of dreams and nightmares that explore the seemingly irrational, often grotesque, world of unconscious desire, producing a series of images that are as unforgettable and unsettling as anything to be found in the decadent fantasies of Against Nature, or the satanic obsessions of La -bas.
Hounded by creditors and gripped by a deep existential gloom, Jacques Marles decides to flee Paris for the countryside, hoping to find shelter from the financial storms raging around his head, hoping to find peace. But Jacques soon discovers he cannot escape the problems of modern city life by hiding in the country. Stuck with his sick wife, Louise, in an abandoned chàteau that seems to be rotting to pieces around them, Jacques waits for money to arrive with nothing to do but give himself up to his increasingly disturbing dreams
Hounded by creditors and gripped by a deep existential gloom, Jacques Marles decides to flee Paris for the countryside, hoping to find shelter from the financial storms raging around his head, hoping to find peace. But Jacques soon discovers he cannot escape the problems of modern city life by hiding in the country. Stuck with his sick wife, Louise, in an abandoned chàteau that seems to be rotting to pieces around them, Jacques waits for money to arrive with nothing to do but give himself up to his increasingly disturbing dreams
256 pages, Paperback
First published April 26, 1887
About the author
Joris-Karl Huysmans
292 books644 followersCharles Marie Georges Huysmans was a French novelist who published his works as Joris-Karl Huysmans. AKA: J.-K. Huysmans.
He is most famous for the novel À rebours (Against Nature). His style is remarkable for its idiosyncratic use of the French language, wide-ranging vocabulary, wealth of detailed and sensuous description, and biting, satirical wit.
The novels are also noteworthy for their encyclopedic documentation, ranging from the catalogue of decadent Latin authors in À rebours to the discussion of the symbiology of Christian architecture in La cathédrale. Huysmans' work expresses a disgust with modern life and a deep pessimism, which led the author first to the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer then to the teachings of the Catholic Church.
He is most famous for the novel À rebours (Against Nature). His style is remarkable for its idiosyncratic use of the French language, wide-ranging vocabulary, wealth of detailed and sensuous description, and biting, satirical wit.
The novels are also noteworthy for their encyclopedic documentation, ranging from the catalogue of decadent Latin authors in À rebours to the discussion of the symbiology of Christian architecture in La cathédrale. Huysmans' work expresses a disgust with modern life and a deep pessimism, which led the author first to the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer then to the teachings of the Catholic Church.
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
August 10, 2015
Written in 1887, between his two major decadent works, Huysmans appears here in a different mode than either the aesthetic catalogue of Against Nature or the almost investigative-journalistic account of Satanism in modern 1890s France in Down There. Actually, for someone so defining of the Decadent movement he seems notably willing to shift gears from work to work.
Here, he follows a couple of financially insolvent former aristocrats, Jacques and Louise, who retreat to the countryside, only to become lost in a kind of pastoralist nightmare of verdant choking growth, rampant ticks and owls that haunt stairwells by night, mercenary peasants, and all manner of rot and ruin that can beset a once-fine estate. His descriptive and observational powers are in full force here -- nearly every page glistens with some insane gem of the natural world amok or menacing. Even moreso during the the novel's many dream sequences, which interpose themselves almost without warning as the usually city-dwelling protagonist's nerves fray further under this under strain of this undesired sabbatical. (The surrealists, of course, took note, and Breton seems to have rated this highest even among Huysmans' works).
Somehow, this also avoids a few pitfalls of its time and conception. By spending most of the novel in Jacques' perspective, we see the neighboring peasants as coarse and conniving and Louise's illness (some vague 19th century nervous disorder) as a domestic inconvenience. But the seeming classist impulses are hardly sustainable when it is so clear that Jacques, who has squandered family wealth on bad investments and is constitutionally unable to consider getting a job or to adjust to circumstance whatsoever, and not the actually hard-working peasants is the ill-adjusted one here. And just when Jacques' thoughts turn to the most sexist musings on how Louise's illness has prevent her from performing the essential duties of wives (carnal or housekeeping), we switch immediately into her perspective to reveal her frustrations with Jacques' complete inability to manage their finances despite her attempts a practical intervention -- it's presumably depression of these matters, and not hysteria, that lies at root of her illness. Despite this, they both regret letting their thoughts towards eachother sour and there's a kind of mutual sympathy there that makes them more compelling. In any event, what could just be a tirade against country people or a fish-out-of-water comedy in other hands, is in Huysmans' something more precise and haunting, a story of a deterioration as much internal as external, amid verdant phantasmagorias of a relentless natural world.
Here, he follows a couple of financially insolvent former aristocrats, Jacques and Louise, who retreat to the countryside, only to become lost in a kind of pastoralist nightmare of verdant choking growth, rampant ticks and owls that haunt stairwells by night, mercenary peasants, and all manner of rot and ruin that can beset a once-fine estate. His descriptive and observational powers are in full force here -- nearly every page glistens with some insane gem of the natural world amok or menacing. Even moreso during the the novel's many dream sequences, which interpose themselves almost without warning as the usually city-dwelling protagonist's nerves fray further under this under strain of this undesired sabbatical. (The surrealists, of course, took note, and Breton seems to have rated this highest even among Huysmans' works).
Somehow, this also avoids a few pitfalls of its time and conception. By spending most of the novel in Jacques' perspective, we see the neighboring peasants as coarse and conniving and Louise's illness (some vague 19th century nervous disorder) as a domestic inconvenience. But the seeming classist impulses are hardly sustainable when it is so clear that Jacques, who has squandered family wealth on bad investments and is constitutionally unable to consider getting a job or to adjust to circumstance whatsoever, and not the actually hard-working peasants is the ill-adjusted one here. And just when Jacques' thoughts turn to the most sexist musings on how Louise's illness has prevent her from performing the essential duties of wives (carnal or housekeeping), we switch immediately into her perspective to reveal her frustrations with Jacques' complete inability to manage their finances despite her attempts a practical intervention -- it's presumably depression of these matters, and not hysteria, that lies at root of her illness. Despite this, they both regret letting their thoughts towards eachother sour and there's a kind of mutual sympathy there that makes them more compelling. In any event, what could just be a tirade against country people or a fish-out-of-water comedy in other hands, is in Huysmans' something more precise and haunting, a story of a deterioration as much internal as external, amid verdant phantasmagorias of a relentless natural world.
September 5, 2016
Published three years after his decadent masterpiece Against Nature, Huysmans returned - with some new tricks up his sleeve - to his naturalist roots with En Rade, an open critique of the often romanticized "good country life" and its inhabitants.
Fleeing from creditors, a parisian couple seeks refuge with their relatives in the countryside, only to find they have just traded one -in their eyes- loathsome class of people with another. The uncle and aunt are a coarse, underhanded, greedy peasant couple. The environment and its creatures are menacing and/or in decrepitude. Peasant life itself is depicted as banal, brutal and unpleasant. Further adding to their misery, the woman suffers from a mysterious malady, the man is plagued by strange, dark, phantasmagoric dreams, and the already strained relationship comes dangerously close to a breaking point.
As usual, Huysmans shows no great concern for plot. The characters are in essence merely types. Instead, he seems to revel in his detailed descriptions of decay in all its different forms. Physical, mental and spiritual. In effect, this book is the epitome of the decadent worldview. It is a quite literal revolt against the ugliness, and even weirdness of the natural world. One wonders whether Algernon Blackwood or Arthur Machen were familiar with this work.
Huysmans is an acquired taste, which this book proves yet again. It doesn't have the pretension to have a "message" (let alone an uplifting one) or even the willingness to appeal to a broad audience. At its core, it is a deeply cynical work, with the odd admixture of black comedy in some places. If one is so inclined, it is deeply satisfying.
Fleeing from creditors, a parisian couple seeks refuge with their relatives in the countryside, only to find they have just traded one -in their eyes- loathsome class of people with another. The uncle and aunt are a coarse, underhanded, greedy peasant couple. The environment and its creatures are menacing and/or in decrepitude. Peasant life itself is depicted as banal, brutal and unpleasant. Further adding to their misery, the woman suffers from a mysterious malady, the man is plagued by strange, dark, phantasmagoric dreams, and the already strained relationship comes dangerously close to a breaking point.
As usual, Huysmans shows no great concern for plot. The characters are in essence merely types. Instead, he seems to revel in his detailed descriptions of decay in all its different forms. Physical, mental and spiritual. In effect, this book is the epitome of the decadent worldview. It is a quite literal revolt against the ugliness, and even weirdness of the natural world. One wonders whether Algernon Blackwood or Arthur Machen were familiar with this work.
Huysmans is an acquired taste, which this book proves yet again. It doesn't have the pretension to have a "message" (let alone an uplifting one) or even the willingness to appeal to a broad audience. At its core, it is a deeply cynical work, with the odd admixture of black comedy in some places. If one is so inclined, it is deeply satisfying.
December 31, 2008
J.K. Huysmans followed up Against Nature, his decadent masterpiece, with this peculiar merging of his new Decadent style and his old naturalist approach.
Jacques and his ill wife move out to her aunt and uncle's farm in the French countryside seeking a respite from the financial dramas threatening to ruin their life and livelihood. They need a haven, a place to recuperate for a season and marshal their forces before rejoining the fight back in Paris. But country life is not idyllic or restful, instead the trip reveals the decaying underside of organic existence and the rotten morals of "good country folk".
This is an odd book. It's not really a story (those looking for a plot should look elsewhere) or a character piece (most of the main characters are types), nor a philosophical work. There is certainly a sub-genre of novels on the theme of "city folk go rural and discover that nature isn't kind", usually in the form of comedy, satire or thriller (the existence of suburbia has just moved the theme forward, but the story is still the same).
I'd call this book a meditation on decay (certainly a valid theme for a decadent novel) but that doesn't really cover it either. Oh, there's plenty of rot and mildew, to be sure, what with collapsing buildings, sick animals, and a wife suffering the "woman's malady" of hysteria. But there's also fecund and profligate nature, underground chambers, swarms of biting insects, screech owl attacks and bizarre dreams that predict surrealism at its finest (the conception of a trip across the surface of a sterile, decadent moon is superb!). There are painful cow birthings and brutish bull ruttings, soused mailmen, drunks at bars and wine barrel swindles. What the book seems to encompass is an ode to the Decadent ideal of falsity, anti-nature, artifice and the synthetic (as desirable over the organic), but achieved by illustrating nature (and the humble rustic peasant) run riot, scheming, gross and lethargic.
What can I say? I liked it. It doesn't so much "end" as "stop" but the naturalist descriptions of the wilderness, countryside and weather become entertainingly strange at times, merging into the weird stress and boredom based dreams that plague Jacques (one set of images seems to predict J.G. Ballard's surreal, jewel-encrusted jungles of The Crystal World). A nice diversionary read.
Jacques and his ill wife move out to her aunt and uncle's farm in the French countryside seeking a respite from the financial dramas threatening to ruin their life and livelihood. They need a haven, a place to recuperate for a season and marshal their forces before rejoining the fight back in Paris. But country life is not idyllic or restful, instead the trip reveals the decaying underside of organic existence and the rotten morals of "good country folk".
This is an odd book. It's not really a story (those looking for a plot should look elsewhere) or a character piece (most of the main characters are types), nor a philosophical work. There is certainly a sub-genre of novels on the theme of "city folk go rural and discover that nature isn't kind", usually in the form of comedy, satire or thriller (the existence of suburbia has just moved the theme forward, but the story is still the same).
I'd call this book a meditation on decay (certainly a valid theme for a decadent novel) but that doesn't really cover it either. Oh, there's plenty of rot and mildew, to be sure, what with collapsing buildings, sick animals, and a wife suffering the "woman's malady" of hysteria. But there's also fecund and profligate nature, underground chambers, swarms of biting insects, screech owl attacks and bizarre dreams that predict surrealism at its finest (the conception of a trip across the surface of a sterile, decadent moon is superb!). There are painful cow birthings and brutish bull ruttings, soused mailmen, drunks at bars and wine barrel swindles. What the book seems to encompass is an ode to the Decadent ideal of falsity, anti-nature, artifice and the synthetic (as desirable over the organic), but achieved by illustrating nature (and the humble rustic peasant) run riot, scheming, gross and lethargic.
What can I say? I liked it. It doesn't so much "end" as "stop" but the naturalist descriptions of the wilderness, countryside and weather become entertainingly strange at times, merging into the weird stress and boredom based dreams that plague Jacques (one set of images seems to predict J.G. Ballard's surreal, jewel-encrusted jungles of The Crystal World). A nice diversionary read.
October 14, 2024
Tweede leesbeurt:
Jacques en Louise ontvluchten hun schuldeisers in Parijs door zich op het platteland in een verlaten chateau te vestigen. Hun idyllische verwachtingen storten al gauw in elkaar: het kasteel is een bijna onbewoonbare, beschimmelde ruïne, het landbouwleven is saai en de boeren zijn gierig, achterbaks en hard. De antiromantiek van het plattelandsleven, vervallen gebouwen als zieke lichamen. Armoede en verloedering worden door Huysmans niet ingezet als naturalistische motieven maar als tekenen van aftakeling en verval. Spijtig van die drie vrij uitvoerige, vervelende droombeschrijvingen - bestaan er überhaupt goede droombeschrijvingen in de literatuur? - , want dit is Huysmans op z'n best. Het herlezen meer dan waard! 4.75/5!
"Hij bevond zich in een oude kapel in gotische stijl, die door de tand des tijds was aangetast en door metselaars was verminkt."
"Voortkruipende zweren van korstmos tastten de grafzerken aan, waarvan de holle inscripties al lang onleesbaar waren geworden."
"Door tante Norine en zijn vrouw voortdurend aan te staren en fysionomische gelijkenissen te zoeken, begon hij zich in te beelden dat zij op een dag op elkaar zouden lijken."
"Zoals de meeste zenuwachtige mensen werd Jacques door dit weer onnoemelijk gefolterd: zijn hoofd smolt weg, zijn handen stonden vol water en in zijn broek kon men zitbaden installeren."
Jacques en Louise ontvluchten hun schuldeisers in Parijs door zich op het platteland in een verlaten chateau te vestigen. Hun idyllische verwachtingen storten al gauw in elkaar: het kasteel is een bijna onbewoonbare, beschimmelde ruïne, het landbouwleven is saai en de boeren zijn gierig, achterbaks en hard. De antiromantiek van het plattelandsleven, vervallen gebouwen als zieke lichamen. Armoede en verloedering worden door Huysmans niet ingezet als naturalistische motieven maar als tekenen van aftakeling en verval. Spijtig van die drie vrij uitvoerige, vervelende droombeschrijvingen - bestaan er überhaupt goede droombeschrijvingen in de literatuur? - , want dit is Huysmans op z'n best. Het herlezen meer dan waard! 4.75/5!
"Hij bevond zich in een oude kapel in gotische stijl, die door de tand des tijds was aangetast en door metselaars was verminkt."
"Voortkruipende zweren van korstmos tastten de grafzerken aan, waarvan de holle inscripties al lang onleesbaar waren geworden."
"Door tante Norine en zijn vrouw voortdurend aan te staren en fysionomische gelijkenissen te zoeken, begon hij zich in te beelden dat zij op een dag op elkaar zouden lijken."
"Zoals de meeste zenuwachtige mensen werd Jacques door dit weer onnoemelijk gefolterd: zijn hoofd smolt weg, zijn handen stonden vol water en in zijn broek kon men zitbaden installeren."
November 3, 2019
This novel is something of an oddity, written between Huysmans infinitely better known 'Against Nature' and 'la Bas'.
It appears to hark back to his earlier more naturalistic works in that the plot is essentially, the Marles couple, he with money issues and she health problems go to stay with relations in the countryside and 'hope for the best'.
The countryside is not, of course, the rural idyll. The relations are almost peasant farmers and are portrayed as both stupid and cunning; disparaging of the visitors (as they know nothing about farming) and out to exploit them by petty cons such as diluting their wine. The place they are staying in is falling apart (like their lives) and Jacques Marles has vivid nightmares that seem to symbolise his own inabilities to cope with his existence.
Huysmans is, as expected, great on descriptions of the countryside and especially the Marles dilapidated house and the novel does give a sense of people 'stranded' in a situation they can only react to. Aspects of the brutalities of rural life such as the scene of a birth of a calf might have been 'shocking' in its day (an arm gets shoved up into the cow to help the birth) but knowing that it shocked then does not make it more interesting.
The (lengthy) dream sequences are well done but the writing is not as lush as as say, the descriptions in 'Against Nature' or 'The Cathedral' and again with twenty-first century hindsight we can spot the Odilon Redon symbols etc which perhaps robs it of some of its impact.
Its certainly more readable than 'The Oblate' but it still feels minor fare compared to his two famous novels so its not an essential read. I suggest 'A Dish of Spices' instead.
It appears to hark back to his earlier more naturalistic works in that the plot is essentially, the Marles couple, he with money issues and she health problems go to stay with relations in the countryside and 'hope for the best'.
The countryside is not, of course, the rural idyll. The relations are almost peasant farmers and are portrayed as both stupid and cunning; disparaging of the visitors (as they know nothing about farming) and out to exploit them by petty cons such as diluting their wine. The place they are staying in is falling apart (like their lives) and Jacques Marles has vivid nightmares that seem to symbolise his own inabilities to cope with his existence.
Huysmans is, as expected, great on descriptions of the countryside and especially the Marles dilapidated house and the novel does give a sense of people 'stranded' in a situation they can only react to. Aspects of the brutalities of rural life such as the scene of a birth of a calf might have been 'shocking' in its day (an arm gets shoved up into the cow to help the birth) but knowing that it shocked then does not make it more interesting.
The (lengthy) dream sequences are well done but the writing is not as lush as as say, the descriptions in 'Against Nature' or 'The Cathedral' and again with twenty-first century hindsight we can spot the Odilon Redon symbols etc which perhaps robs it of some of its impact.
Its certainly more readable than 'The Oblate' but it still feels minor fare compared to his two famous novels so its not an essential read. I suggest 'A Dish of Spices' instead.
October 27, 2023
Huysmans is, to me, such a good and interesting author that I read with pleasure just about anything he's written. None of his novels, sadly--at least so far, and this is my 7th--have come close to the amazing transcendent decadent beauty of La bas, his masterpiece. Still, Stranded is interesting, even if i don't think it really pays off or says anything all that profound. Mainly it describes a state of deep anxiety (money troubles) and a flight away from Parisian life to abate the tension, which disastrously backfires when our protagonists see first hand the realities of country life, brutality, stupidity, and greed laid bare--a far cry from the ideals of romantic bucolic literature and art. It's an interesting take on a situation, but there's not much in the way of plot or character development to take it much beyond this clever reversal of romantic terms and a vivid description of living in a limbo state of economic emergency and anxiety.
One of the things I've noticed about Huysmans's fiction is that he likes to juxtapose parallel narratives. He does this to great effect in La bas where the historian Durtal plods along in his adventures with Satanists while researching the history of Gilles de Rais, which we read in interspersed chapters. Here in Stranded we get a similar form when our protagonist, Jacques Marles, slips off into inexplicable psychedelic dreams recounted in super vivid detail, beautiful language, and some really exceptional metaphors. While I found these passages highlights of the novel, in the end they kind of failed, at least as far as I could see, to go anywhere--but I really enjoyed them for the language and beauty of the writing and images alone.
Instead, the heart of the novel happens in the longish middle section, between the dreams, as the Marles couple learn, day-to-day, the realities of country life and find it far from the ideals foisted upon them by idyllic representations meant to shame city dwellers, and to discover an even greater moral bankruptcy on the part of the local bumpkins than in the heart of decadent Paris. I have long noted this reality in my own country of origin, the USA, and so I approve. Rural "culture" is indeed a nightmare of ignorance, bigotry, superstition, and xenophobia. Give me a city any day. The pastoral landscape is littered with psychopaths and serial killers toting guns, Trump flags, and burning crosses. It's always fun to read something that agrees with you so well.
One of the things I've noticed about Huysmans's fiction is that he likes to juxtapose parallel narratives. He does this to great effect in La bas where the historian Durtal plods along in his adventures with Satanists while researching the history of Gilles de Rais, which we read in interspersed chapters. Here in Stranded we get a similar form when our protagonist, Jacques Marles, slips off into inexplicable psychedelic dreams recounted in super vivid detail, beautiful language, and some really exceptional metaphors. While I found these passages highlights of the novel, in the end they kind of failed, at least as far as I could see, to go anywhere--but I really enjoyed them for the language and beauty of the writing and images alone.
Instead, the heart of the novel happens in the longish middle section, between the dreams, as the Marles couple learn, day-to-day, the realities of country life and find it far from the ideals foisted upon them by idyllic representations meant to shame city dwellers, and to discover an even greater moral bankruptcy on the part of the local bumpkins than in the heart of decadent Paris. I have long noted this reality in my own country of origin, the USA, and so I approve. Rural "culture" is indeed a nightmare of ignorance, bigotry, superstition, and xenophobia. Give me a city any day. The pastoral landscape is littered with psychopaths and serial killers toting guns, Trump flags, and burning crosses. It's always fun to read something that agrees with you so well.
October 21, 2018
A minha primeira abordagem à obra deste notável escritor, deu-se com o admirável “Ao Arrepio”, um dos livros mais fascinantes que já tive a oportunidade de ler e que, apenas com ele, me tornou uma indefetivel fã de Joris-Karl Huysmans.
Embora este “En Rade” traduzido do francês para a palavra portuguesa “Ancorado”, mereceu talvez por ser mais apelativo o título “O Castelo do Homem Ancorado”, não me tenha arrebatado tanto, veio confirmar a enorme pujança literária deste grande, enorme prosador francês que viveu nos finais do séc. 19 e que foi discípulo de Émile Zola, abraçando tal como o mestre a corrente literária naturalista que, como em todos os movimentos artísticos, opunha-se à um romantismo já desgastado é órfão de ideias que contrariavam a realidade evolucionista de um mundo em constante ebulição - a revolução industrial trouxe consigo alterações de paradigmas às quais o mundo literário não ficou isento, assim como o pictórico se pensarmos nas belíssimas e corrosivas litografias de Honoré Daumier.
Mas voltando à narrativa, “O Castelo do Homem Ancorado” surpreende-nos pela capacidade que um grande autor possui em, justamente, nos surpreender. A história, cuja ação se desenrola num fim de mundo rural francês, apresenta-nos uma galeria de personagens extraordinários e extravagantes: Jacques Marles e sua esposa Louise, refugiam-se num castelo decadente e praticamente destruído, fugindo da certeza da falência económica que Paris lhes proporcionara, muito por força do ócio característico de Jacques, onde vivem as mais atrozes humilhações por parte dos administradores do castelo, o casal Antoine e Norrine, ele tio de Louise, personalidades que se confrontam, que se opõem, obviamente por força das diferentes vivências que cada um explora. Num meio propício aos egoísmos, já que o casal parisiense, pelo seu lado, exultava uma vida mais pacata, sem os constrangimentos advindos da fuga à desgraça, ambos, Jacques e Louise percepcionam e até almejam a morte um do outro, enquanto libertação de um quadro de vivência a dois horrendo, entrando a seguir em momentos de profundo arrependimento e dor ... nada mais natural, não?
O onírico, sempre presente através dos sonhos surreais de Jacques, remonta à perspectiva do medo, da ansiedade e das frustrações que a vida, falida em todas as suas componentes lhe trouxe ... nada mais natural, não? Ou talvez não ...
Mas também está narrativa surge prenhe de humor ... o capítulo sobre as ptomaínas que, segundo o tradutor Aníbal Fernandes que aliás, fez um trabalho excecional, André Breton utilizou na sua “Antologia do Humor Negro”, é absolutamente hilariante ... só por si, vale a leitura desta novela que me fascinou profundamente, embora não tanto como em “Ao Arrepio’, dai as quatro estrelas.
Embora este “En Rade” traduzido do francês para a palavra portuguesa “Ancorado”, mereceu talvez por ser mais apelativo o título “O Castelo do Homem Ancorado”, não me tenha arrebatado tanto, veio confirmar a enorme pujança literária deste grande, enorme prosador francês que viveu nos finais do séc. 19 e que foi discípulo de Émile Zola, abraçando tal como o mestre a corrente literária naturalista que, como em todos os movimentos artísticos, opunha-se à um romantismo já desgastado é órfão de ideias que contrariavam a realidade evolucionista de um mundo em constante ebulição - a revolução industrial trouxe consigo alterações de paradigmas às quais o mundo literário não ficou isento, assim como o pictórico se pensarmos nas belíssimas e corrosivas litografias de Honoré Daumier.
Mas voltando à narrativa, “O Castelo do Homem Ancorado” surpreende-nos pela capacidade que um grande autor possui em, justamente, nos surpreender. A história, cuja ação se desenrola num fim de mundo rural francês, apresenta-nos uma galeria de personagens extraordinários e extravagantes: Jacques Marles e sua esposa Louise, refugiam-se num castelo decadente e praticamente destruído, fugindo da certeza da falência económica que Paris lhes proporcionara, muito por força do ócio característico de Jacques, onde vivem as mais atrozes humilhações por parte dos administradores do castelo, o casal Antoine e Norrine, ele tio de Louise, personalidades que se confrontam, que se opõem, obviamente por força das diferentes vivências que cada um explora. Num meio propício aos egoísmos, já que o casal parisiense, pelo seu lado, exultava uma vida mais pacata, sem os constrangimentos advindos da fuga à desgraça, ambos, Jacques e Louise percepcionam e até almejam a morte um do outro, enquanto libertação de um quadro de vivência a dois horrendo, entrando a seguir em momentos de profundo arrependimento e dor ... nada mais natural, não?
O onírico, sempre presente através dos sonhos surreais de Jacques, remonta à perspectiva do medo, da ansiedade e das frustrações que a vida, falida em todas as suas componentes lhe trouxe ... nada mais natural, não? Ou talvez não ...
Mas também está narrativa surge prenhe de humor ... o capítulo sobre as ptomaínas que, segundo o tradutor Aníbal Fernandes que aliás, fez um trabalho excecional, André Breton utilizou na sua “Antologia do Humor Negro”, é absolutamente hilariante ... só por si, vale a leitura desta novela que me fascinou profundamente, embora não tanto como em “Ao Arrepio’, dai as quatro estrelas.
August 14, 2011
The more I read Huysmans, the more I appreciate him. Perhaps its his indifference to conventional narrative structure, his tendency to show off his eclectic tastes or his reems of descriptive prose but he's most definitely a taste worth aquiring.
'Stranded' tells the tale of Jacques, a man on the verge of financial ruin who takes refuge with his wife in the countryside. Unfortunately, Jacques finds his sanity crumbling as quickly as the ancient chateau in which he stays as he goes through an existential crisis which leaves his marriage on the verge of breakdown and also utterly disenchants him with country life.
Jacques discovers that the romaticism of peasant life is at best an exaggeration and at worst a lie, with the simple country folk being far more cunning and motivated by money than any Parisian. Even in sleep he finds no peace as he is tormented by strange and wild dreams which he cannot begin to explain. In many ways this is a crossover novel between Huysmans' former art as a Naturalist and the new art of Symbolism and in the use of such a device, he is able to chronicle Jacques breakdown on a physical level and on an emotional level. The two parallel tales do not exactly enmesh but as a whole piece it is entirely successful.
Add this this Huysmans' penchant for black comedy and his wonderful way with words and you have a throughly captivating and original book.
'Stranded' tells the tale of Jacques, a man on the verge of financial ruin who takes refuge with his wife in the countryside. Unfortunately, Jacques finds his sanity crumbling as quickly as the ancient chateau in which he stays as he goes through an existential crisis which leaves his marriage on the verge of breakdown and also utterly disenchants him with country life.
Jacques discovers that the romaticism of peasant life is at best an exaggeration and at worst a lie, with the simple country folk being far more cunning and motivated by money than any Parisian. Even in sleep he finds no peace as he is tormented by strange and wild dreams which he cannot begin to explain. In many ways this is a crossover novel between Huysmans' former art as a Naturalist and the new art of Symbolism and in the use of such a device, he is able to chronicle Jacques breakdown on a physical level and on an emotional level. The two parallel tales do not exactly enmesh but as a whole piece it is entirely successful.
Add this this Huysmans' penchant for black comedy and his wonderful way with words and you have a throughly captivating and original book.
May 19, 2022
Broke city-slickers escape to the country - misery (for them) and hilarity (for the reader) result. The causticity of some of the writing here almost reads like a 19th c. episode of Peep Show.
(this review refers to the translation titled "A Haven" from The Decadent Reader: Fiction, Fantasy, and Perversion from Fin-de-Siècle France.)
(this review refers to the translation titled "A Haven" from The Decadent Reader: Fiction, Fantasy, and Perversion from Fin-de-Siècle France.)
June 10, 2024
Descripciones algo pomposas para mi gusto pero está nice, incita a la reflexión sobre el cambio percepciones de la realidad presente y pasada y el contraste campo-ciudad.
May 19, 2016
Durtal Goes to Camp
'En Rade' (or Stranded, as this edition is titled) whisks the reader away from the usual suspects of Huysmans's loathing: Parisian aristocrats, filthy restaurants, dingy brothels, modern art, bourgeois Catholocism, etc., and drops him into a rural inferno. Replacing the social engineers of 'A Dilemma' and the lecherous ghouls of 'La-Bas' are the worst that the countryside has to offer. Rather than jewel encrusted tortoises, we are treated to vomiting cats, screeching owls, and ejaculating bulls, frolicking amongst guano-encrusted tabernacles and patches of naitform pumpkins. This book serves as Huysmans's reminder that it isn't just modern urban life that is worthy of a discerning disdain; it sucks everywhere.
En Rade is certainly the most vitriolic novel I've ever read. Huysmans never fails to please.
'En Rade' (or Stranded, as this edition is titled) whisks the reader away from the usual suspects of Huysmans's loathing: Parisian aristocrats, filthy restaurants, dingy brothels, modern art, bourgeois Catholocism, etc., and drops him into a rural inferno. Replacing the social engineers of 'A Dilemma' and the lecherous ghouls of 'La-Bas' are the worst that the countryside has to offer. Rather than jewel encrusted tortoises, we are treated to vomiting cats, screeching owls, and ejaculating bulls, frolicking amongst guano-encrusted tabernacles and patches of naitform pumpkins. This book serves as Huysmans's reminder that it isn't just modern urban life that is worthy of a discerning disdain; it sucks everywhere.
En Rade is certainly the most vitriolic novel I've ever read. Huysmans never fails to please.
May 15, 2017
Ellos, por su parte, le juzgaban loco. No serviría para nada; pero aún no estaba loco, según se decía Santiago, que no ignoraba la opinión de su familia. Sí, verdad, no servía para nada, era incapaz de prendarse por las ocupaciones de los hombres, inepto para ganar dinero y hasta para guardarlo, insensible a la atracción de los honores y a las ganancias de las colocaciones. No consistía, sin embargo, en que fuera perezoso, porque tenía a su favor inmensas lecturas, toda una erudición lejana, pero desperdigada, ingerida sin móvil preciso, despreciable, por consiguiente, para los utilitarios y los ociosos.
December 24, 2023
Lacking even an atom of the genuine polyglot in me, I can’t speak to the original text here, but I will say that the Terry Hale translation is truly awful. Self-consciously literary, bloated with passive voice & prepositional phrases, & also marred by careless errors throughout. It’s even more offensive that because the Atlas edition is OOP people think it’s somehow worth spending $70-80 on a paperback. Buried underneath all this is surely a great novel, as evidenced by my rating, but the actual reading experience didn’t hold a candle to e.g. the Wallace Keene translation of Là-bas or the standard Robert Baldick translation of À rebours. It’s also telling that Hale’s title of his translation is inaccurate & makes no sense, or at least takes liberties. I haven’t read the Brendan King translation but given that his title is the actual (rough) meaning of En rade in English I’d wholeheartedly endorse it, especially given that it’s still in print and can be found for a reasonable price.
The reason I bring all this up is because this book, even more than what sits on either side of it in Huysmans’s œuvre, luxuriates in phantasy & dream so strangely, beguilingly bedecked that to give it any less than the best is a crime against its textual body. The horrors & hilarity of pastoral life don’t require the artist’s touch, a mere satirist’s will do. And the twilight ambience of Huysmans’s chateau-scape probably demands a translator familiar with the importance of architectural writing to the late 19th century mind. But the real thrust of this book is how it prefigures surrealism in those lengthy passages of dream vision which exist almost independently of any narrative action, & Hale ruins it all with his wordiness; Huysmans’s love of words for their unique strangeness dissipates under Hale’s hand. Like I said, to anyone reading the reviews on this page, please just get the King translation (released as Stranded). This is a delightful book that anyone fascinated by the dawn of modernity will enjoy, a book that certainly deserves the finest possible rendering.
The reason I bring all this up is because this book, even more than what sits on either side of it in Huysmans’s œuvre, luxuriates in phantasy & dream so strangely, beguilingly bedecked that to give it any less than the best is a crime against its textual body. The horrors & hilarity of pastoral life don’t require the artist’s touch, a mere satirist’s will do. And the twilight ambience of Huysmans’s chateau-scape probably demands a translator familiar with the importance of architectural writing to the late 19th century mind. But the real thrust of this book is how it prefigures surrealism in those lengthy passages of dream vision which exist almost independently of any narrative action, & Hale ruins it all with his wordiness; Huysmans’s love of words for their unique strangeness dissipates under Hale’s hand. Like I said, to anyone reading the reviews on this page, please just get the King translation (released as Stranded). This is a delightful book that anyone fascinated by the dawn of modernity will enjoy, a book that certainly deserves the finest possible rendering.
October 2, 2022
the translation of this in The Decadent Reader: Fiction, Fantasy, and Perversion from Fin-de-Siècle France is titled 'A Haven' and is translated by Rachel Ashton, but it doesn't seem to exist in a standalone edition. anyway this is about an urban bourgeois failson with a chronically ill wife who has lost most of his money and hence tries out a spell of countryside living. however, it turns out that the countryside is gross and scary and filled with peasants covered in dirt! and animals are weird, and this guy's wife's illness grosses him out, and the old chateau they're staying in is a literally mouldering ruin! Most of the book is just this guy and his wife getting increasingly owned by rural living, swindled by the peasants, frightened by owls, etc etc. i must admit this passage hit a bit too close to home for me, as a well read failson myself:
"Yes, it was true, he was good for nothing, incapable of embracing the exquisite occupations of men, inept at earning money or even at keeping it, indifferent to the lure of honors and the profit of gaining a position. It was not, however, that he was lazy, for he was very widely read, a far reaching but scattered erudition, ingested without any particular aim, and consequently held in contempt by utilitarians and idlers alike."
"Yes, it was true, he was good for nothing, incapable of embracing the exquisite occupations of men, inept at earning money or even at keeping it, indifferent to the lure of honors and the profit of gaining a position. It was not, however, that he was lazy, for he was very widely read, a far reaching but scattered erudition, ingested without any particular aim, and consequently held in contempt by utilitarians and idlers alike."
March 15, 2020
.
. . " أرهقه هذا الصّراع الدّاخلي مع نفسه ، فعمل على التخّلص منه بسرعة ، آملاً أن يتبدد ضيقه عندما يحل بأماكن أقلّ تعتيماً "
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. .
.
. "وبـدأت تغطيه عودة ذكرياته التي شرعت كلّ منها تثقل لدى مرورها على جرحه و تخزه . هل الخطأ خطؤه أن رتب نفسه بطريقة لا يستطيع معها أن يتحمل انجراف حياته ، وأن كان ، في حالات فضوله وافتنانه ، يحتاج بأي ثمن إلى الرّاحة ؟ فهو كان رجلاً يقرأ في صحيفة أو في كتاب جملةً غريبة عن الّدين أو العلم أو التاريخ أو الفنّ ، عن أيّ شيء ، فيتحمس لها على الفور ويُسارع ، مهرولاً إلى البحث ، منكباً ، في يوم ، على التراث ، محاولاً أن يلقي فيه بمسباره ، مُعاوداً الاهتمام بلغته اللاّتينية ، مُنقباً بحمية ، ثم لا يلبث أن يترك كلّ شيء ، مُتقززاً فجأة ، وبدون سبب ، من تلك الأبحاث ومن الأشــغال ، مُنقذفاً ، ذات صباح ، في صلب الأدب المعاصر ، قارئًا. مضامين كتب عديدة ، غير مفكّر إلاّ في هذا الفنّ ، فاقداً الرّغبة في النّوم بسببه ، إلى أن ينصرف عنه ، ذات صباح آخر ، بانعطافة مُفاجئة ، فيظل يحلم ضجراً ، انتظار موضوع يُمكنه أن يصبّ عليه اهتمامه .. "
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كما هو معتاد في عملية تقييم أي عمل الإشادة بالكاتب لكني سأخرج عن المعتاد و أتوجه بالشكر للمترجم المغربي محمد بنعبود على إجادته في انتقاء الكلمات و حسن السرد .
. . " أرهقه هذا الصّراع الدّاخلي مع نفسه ، فعمل على التخّلص منه بسرعة ، آملاً أن يتبدد ضيقه عندما يحل بأماكن أقلّ تعتيماً "
.
. .
.
. "وبـدأت تغطيه عودة ذكرياته التي شرعت كلّ منها تثقل لدى مرورها على جرحه و تخزه . هل الخطأ خطؤه أن رتب نفسه بطريقة لا يستطيع معها أن يتحمل انجراف حياته ، وأن كان ، في حالات فضوله وافتنانه ، يحتاج بأي ثمن إلى الرّاحة ؟ فهو كان رجلاً يقرأ في صحيفة أو في كتاب جملةً غريبة عن الّدين أو العلم أو التاريخ أو الفنّ ، عن أيّ شيء ، فيتحمس لها على الفور ويُسارع ، مهرولاً إلى البحث ، منكباً ، في يوم ، على التراث ، محاولاً أن يلقي فيه بمسباره ، مُعاوداً الاهتمام بلغته اللاّتينية ، مُنقباً بحمية ، ثم لا يلبث أن يترك كلّ شيء ، مُتقززاً فجأة ، وبدون سبب ، من تلك الأبحاث ومن الأشــغال ، مُنقذفاً ، ذات صباح ، في صلب الأدب المعاصر ، قارئًا. مضامين كتب عديدة ، غير مفكّر إلاّ في هذا الفنّ ، فاقداً الرّغبة في النّوم بسببه ، إلى أن ينصرف عنه ، ذات صباح آخر ، بانعطافة مُفاجئة ، فيظل يحلم ضجراً ، انتظار موضوع يُمكنه أن يصبّ عليه اهتمامه .. "
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كما هو معتاد في عملية تقييم أي عمل الإشادة بالكاتب لكني سأخرج عن المعتاد و أتوجه بالشكر للمترجم المغربي محمد بنعبود على إجادته في انتقاء الكلمات و حسن السرد .
August 6, 2018
un chef d'œuvre absolu, entre patois paysan et descriptions oniriques les plus coruscantes. contrasté, saisissant, décadent, drôle, tragique et ironique. merveilleux.
September 15, 2024
I love the way Huysmans writes, and have a soft spot for him.
April 22, 2014
I enjoyed Stranded (En Rade) -- I'm a fan of Huysmans, though some of his books are certainly easier going than others. Stranded is pretty smooth going, a straightforward story of a husband and wife who, having lost their money, go to stay with her aunt and uncle in the countryside while trying to regain some funds. They discover that there's more to the "country bumpkins" than they might expect, and things don't go as smoothly as they hoped. The manor is falling down around them, the wife is suffering from a mysterious malady, and the husband has inexplicable nightmares. The story comes to an end without really concluding, but it's a good read.
March 25, 2016
"Enfin une lumière étoilée, très basse, scintilla, grossit peu à peu, puis divergea, s’étendit, devint diffuse, à mesure qu’on avançait ; bientôt elle se délaya, sans rayons, toute mate, dans le cadre carré d’une fenêtre. Ils atteignirent une chaumière sans étage, composée d’une seule pièce. Dans la grande cheminée, sous une hotte dont les rebords s’encombraient de vaisselles peintes, un feu de sarment pétillait sec au-dessous d’un coquemar de fonte qui bouillait, épandant sous la danse de son couvercle l’impétueuse odeur des choux cuits."
February 20, 2016
Deceptively simple plot -- with an undertow. On one hand I would have liked it to be longer. On the other hand its leanness lends to the potency.
Maybe it's cheating to mark this book as read, since it was included in a massive anthology (reviewed here https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). However if I don't add it to the "read" shelf, I'm liable to buy it again accidentally.
Maybe it's cheating to mark this book as read, since it was included in a massive anthology (reviewed here https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). However if I don't add it to the "read" shelf, I'm liable to buy it again accidentally.
January 7, 2017
"the cemeteries could all be converted into factories which would prepare to order for rich families the concentrated extracts of their ancestors, the essential oils of children, and the bouquet unique to the paterfamilias...
furthermore, why not flavour certain dishes with it?
Yum-yum! Grandpa!"
furthermore, why not flavour certain dishes with it?
Yum-yum! Grandpa!"
January 7, 2012
First Huysmans I've read in many years, and I liked it. Sure, it lacks the perverse purity of Against Nature, but how could it not? Recommended.
January 3, 2015
didn't do a thing for me, couldn't finish it.
June 11, 2018
В 1887 році на перехресті між натуралізмом і сюрреалізмом Жоріс-Карл Гюїсманс зупинився, щоб ще раз задумливо погладити свої вуса і бороду. Він досі не вирішив, яку дорогу вказує йому новий роман. Чи це буде прогулянка із чітко окресленою метою, яку він сприйме з почуттям відстороненості? Чи його очікує мрійна подорож, незвичайно подібна до справжньої? Автор підкинув у невизначеності рукопис і аркуші розлетілися на всі боки.
Саме такі враження від книги. Гюїсманс вже привчив мене, що на роман з повноцінним сюжетом у його виконанні можна не розраховувати, тож і тут вийшло все достатньо просто. Жак Мерль і його дружина Луїза їдуть з Парижа, де кредитори кидаються на них, наче грифи на стерво, після проведення невдалих фінансових операцій. Подружжя приїжджає у село Лур до родичів Луїзи - дядька Антуана і тітки Норіни, і селиться у занедбаному замку.
Саме такі враження від книги. Гюїсманс вже привчив мене, що на роман з повноцінним сюжетом у його виконанні можна не розраховувати, тож і тут вийшло все достатньо просто. Жак Мерль і його дружина Луїза їдуть з Парижа, де кредитори кидаються на них, наче грифи на стерво, після проведення невдалих фінансових операцій. Подружжя приїжджає у село Лур до родичів Луїзи - дядька Антуана і тітки Норіни, і селиться у занедбаному замку.
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