Liane de Pougy – My Blue Notebooks (1919 – 1941)

My Blue Notebooks (Tacher) is one of three books available in English by fin de siècle demimonde celebrity and author Liane de Pougy. The other two are her semi-autobiographical first and second novels, L’insaisissable and Idylle saphique. My Blue Notebooks are de Pougy’s posthumously published journals/memoirs, and they are a fantastic read, an engrossing time capsule, and the compelling spiritual journey of a woman who lived more life than twenty people combined.

When she began journaling in 1919, de Pougy’s life as one of Paris’ most feted courtesans was behind her. Almost a decade earlier, she’d formed a romantic relationship with Prince Georges Ghika of Romania, and they were married. de Pougy was 41 and he was 24 so, even in the honorable institution of marriage, she managed to scandalize. de Pougy, however, seems to have been remarkably grounded about the whole thing. 

As one reads My Blue Notebooks, it’s easy to see why. Not much would faze someone whose life was a revolving door of the rich, famous, notorious, and artistic. Coco Chanel, the Maharajah of Kapurthala, the Rothschilds, Jean Cocteau, Mata Hari, Colette, Tsar Nicolas II. Scarcely a page goes by without a significant personage appearing. If at this stage of her life de Pougy seemed at least acquainted with everyone who was anyone in France, one can only imagine the giddy whirlwind her life must have been during her 1890’s heyday as a celebrity courtesan.

Interest in her kiss-and-tell-all account of that period may be why some encouraged her to keep a journal in the first place. However, while de Pougy reminisces about those days, she generally shies away from her past. In fact, she clearly states several times that she has no interest in celebrating or glamorizing her life as a courtesan, regardless of how heady it may have been on its surface. A major tip-off in this regard is that she credits her husband with rescuing her from “the sewer”. 

Instead, de Pougy emerges as a woman of substance fully engaged in the high - and not so high - culture of her time. Beyond her obvious intelligence and eloquence, she repeatedly notes being sent the latest book by one great author or another. Not only does she read them but even her briefest comments reveal a mind perfectly able to digest and critically judge them. It’s also unlikely her husband, a well-educated and cultured man, would have been so completely enraptured by her had she been nothing more than a well-endowed champagne-guzzling party girl. 

de Pougy’s memoirs reveal a witty and captivating woman who took advantage of the cultural comets she encountered during her celebrity to expand her intellectual horizons. That she was credible enough in her efforts to keep them returning to her orbit even as she got older is, all by itself, an impressive accomplishment considering the temperamental, prickly nature of these Parisian Belle Epoque artists, musicians, and writers. 

Her substance is what makes My Blue Notebooks a layered and rewarding read versus a voyeuristic diversion. For example, de Pougy forthrightly reveals and ponders her own flaws. Though at root repelled by her shallow fame bubble, she loved gossip and could be catty and fickle. She was a sucker for a compliment and yet, given couturiers viewed her as an ‘influencer’ even into her forties, she received plenty of accolades. And she’d overlook just about any sin if presented with a sentimental or witty note and a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers. 

Her self-examination arises from a trickle of religious sensibility that later becomes a river and transforms her life. It’s in these passages, rather than through salacious revelation, that she bares the shame, pain, and scars - some literal - of her former life. Comments on unsavory episodes remind us that, behind the glittering parties, haute couture, fantastic jewels, and gambling jaunts to Monte Carlo, sex work was (and is) an exploitative, dangerous vocation. She was both resilient enough to endure without being coarsened and savvy enough to translate notoriety into financial security. 

No spoilers…Most affecting is how My Blue Notebooks gives us a front row seat for the most catastrophic defeats and reverses in de Pougy’s life. And later, upon entering her seventies, her writing more often marks the passing of old friends, her increasing detachment from the times, and a sobering exhaustion with the turmoil of life. As this occurs, the focus of her writing, its style, and even her voice gradually shift, reflecting an inner spiritual transformation that in summary form evokes a melodramatic movie script but was in fact deeply felt.

As a series of diary entries, My Blue Notebooks is not woven into a narrative. However, I’m glad. de Pougy’s story needs to be told by her and in her voice. Her story is compelling on many levels: spicy voyeurism, time capsule of a brilliant period, character study, and spiritual journey. By the end, this reader felt he'd gotten to know this lively and fascinating woman. Knowing this can’t really be the case only underlines Liane de Pougy’s complexity. My Blue Notebooks is an amazing read, especially if you have an interest in the French Belle Epoque.

Composer Reynaldo Hahn – a celebrity and de Pougy’s intimate for many years, until she got married and he dropped her (“I hate married people”) – once gave de Pougy a piece of advice over dinner. “Look, Liane, the way to live is to bring all the enthusiasm you can muster to everything: studying, talking, eating, everything.” She remarks the deep impression this advice made on her. My Blue Notebooks demonstrates that – regardless of how she otherwise triumphed or failed – Liane de Pougy was a success in living life.