Jennifer Birkett

A friend recommended this book to me. I found it rather an effort to read, tending to feel somewhat sleepy after thirty pages. Perhaps opium fumes emanated from the pages somehow? The chapters were each structured around one or two specific writers and the themes of their work. The strongest message I took from this was that the decadents portrayed women as demons, prostitutes, innocents, mothers, mirrors, victims, avatars of death, wraiths, lust monsters, illusions, goddesses, and murderesses, but never, ever accorded them the basic dignity of personhood. Thus, the chapter on Rachilde, apparently the only female decadent writer, was the most interesting. Rachilde’s writing was full of ambivalence, as she seemingly internalised the violent misogyny of the decadents and proclaimed herself ‘anti-feminist’. She sought to fit the decadent stereotypes of women but, as the list above shows, these poses were contradictory and none of them really amounted to more than a mask. The decadents also had a morbid obsession with and fear of lesbians, which is demeaning and frankly tedious.

I was particularly diverted by the final writer discussed, Octave Mirabeau, as he seemed much more willing to consider the political and institutional implications of decadence. Reading about the others, especially Louÿs and Huysmans, was rather frustrating as their decadent visions and occult obsessions seem so self-indulgent and reactionary. I am no literary analyst, but to me the decadents seem like the Romantics in an advanced state of decomposition, with no ideals or values, suffering from opium-infused depression, and trapped by a prurient fixation on transgressive sex. Considering that France at the time was shattered by the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War and Paris Commune, such a nihilistic, contradictory, and morbid cultural development isn’t terribly surprising. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though! I found [b:Against Nature|210255|Against Nature|Joris-Karl Huysmans|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1385099642s/210255.jpg|306152] rather fascinating, however I have no great desire to read the racist and sexist dream-visions of Gourmont, Louÿs, et al. Much decadent writing seems overwrought and lacking a sense of humour. This book interested me to a point, however it felt much longer than 256 pages and left me wanting to read something more enervating, like a critique of neoliberal economics.… (more)