For the last several years, I've been obsessed with literature from the French Decadent Movement, with a bit of Symbolism tossed in. It’s why I started this blog. The Fin de Siècle was a time of glittering beauty and pernicious darkness, with amazing social and technological progress creating both dizzying excitement and poisonous angst. In addition, the vitality of the period’s avant-garde art, music, and writing, and the beauty of its crafts, posters, and design aesthetics deeply appeal to me. So much so that, if I believed in so-called past lives, then I was a bohemian artist, writer, or journalist in the Fin de Siècle demimonde. Someone who died at a relatively young age without achieving fame. On a more grounded note, my exploration of French Decadent literature has given me insight into a question I've had since I was young: What happened during a mere 20 years in Paris to transform the arts from Hugo-Zola-Monet-Rodin-Debussy to Gide-Proust-Matisse-Picasso-Satie? The sta...