Decadence: Obscure literature of the fin de siecle and Belle Epoque - and other literary obsession

As mentioned in a prior post, I’d given myself an assignment to read J.-K. Huysmans’ novels in the order in which they were written. My objective was to track his progression from a Naturalist writer in Emile Zola’s orbit to the author who wrote À rebours , the novel some refer to as “the Decadent bible”.  I skipped Huysmans’ first effort, Le drageoir aux épices (1874) and started with his first two novels: Marthe: The Story of a Whore (1876) and The Vatard Sisters (1879). After that was "Sac au dos", his contribution to Evenings at Médan , an 1880 anthology of French Naturalism comprised of stories by six different authors. As a mini-survey of French Naturalism, I gave myself a sub-assignment to read all six stories in Evenings at Médan .  Unfortunately, there’s no English version of the anthology. I was able to read the stories by Zola (“The Attack on the Mill”) and Guy de Maupassant (“Boule de Suif”) via English language anthologies of each authors’ short stories. Howev...

The Red Sorcerer is the third novel I’ve read by late-Decadent author Delphi Fabrice, and it presents some difficulty in interpretation. French Decadence is typically viewed as a fin de siècle phenomenon, which means that, literally, it ended on the last day of 1899. Literarily speaking, one can easily make a case for Decadence extending a few years into the 20th Century. The Red Sorcerer was published in 1910, well after either definition. So is it Decadent literature? More fundamentally, is it literature? In his introduction, translator Brian Stableford reveals The Red Sorcerer was “published as a 64-part feuilleton serial in Le Journal”. The feuilleton was a lurid, cliffhanger-laden genre of French fiction presented in serial format by newspapers of the time. Its purpose was to hook readers into buying future editions of the newspaper to find out “what happens next”. As such, it’s hardly a genre that promises high culture. There’s even good reason to question whether Fabrice himse...

Warning: This book is not by a French author! Studies of Death  by Count Eric Stenbock (pictured) was one of the first works of Decadence I purchased. I hadn’t yet become taken by the movement when I did. My motive was that Halloween was approaching, and I wanted to read ghost stories and tales of horror from 19th Century authors. As mentioned in my post about Where to Start, this slender collection of short stories is a wonderful entree into Decadent fiction. While only one of the stories satisfied my Halloween itch, the collection went a long way in hooking me on Decadent fiction. The first study of death is “Hylas”, an imagistic combination of homoeroticism and art appreciation with the gentle pacing of a reverie and ends with a singular image. “Narcissus” leverages its title myth symbolistically but takes a decided twist in its unfolding. Meanwhile, “The True Story of a Vampire” is fascinating not only as a gothic tale but as a pre- Dracula vampire story. The plots and narrati...

I asked this question after first dipping my toe in French Decadent literature. Fact is: There are no obvious starting points. No monolithic writers that scream to be read first. No Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, Honoré de Balzac, or Emile Zola. And even though J.-K. Huysmans’ A rebours is the movement’s bible and was one of the first books I read, I’m not sure I’d recommend it as a starting point. (Drawing: Henri Charles Guerard, Count Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac 1894) Luckily, there was a booming, highly-competitive newspaper industry in fin de siècle France. [For a peek into this world, read Bel-Ami by Guy de Maupassant]. Writers who could draw in readers were paid by the word, and the sensationalistic, lurid, and/or purposefully shocking style of Decadent fiction was perfect for that task. Many Parisian writers made a living churning out content for newspapers with the result that the short story seems to enjoy greater emphasis in Decadent literature than other literary moveme...

One challenging aspect of this blog will be posting reactions to works I’m currently reading, as well as attempting to retrace my path as I initially became interested in Decadent literature (with recommendations for good and not-so-good places to start). I’ll need to be clear which posts are which! I recently finished Robert Scheffer’s novella Prince Narcissus (1896). It’s an outstanding example of a recurring motif in Decadent literature: a fabulously wealthy, handsome, intellectual young man of high position alienated by the vulgarity and stupidity of contemporary human society. Scheffer’s protagonist, Prince Mitrophane Moreano, becomes fascinated by his own beauty and - not surprisingly if you’ve read much Decadent literature - fascination soon becomes neurotic obsession.  As Moreano ages and tries to preserve his looks or delude himself about them, Prince Narcissus becomes a deliciously morbid gothic tale about the cruelty of mortality. Moreano is forever comparing his own d...