Pierre LouÿsCríticas

Pierre Louys Escritor francés cuyo verdadero nombre era Louis, que transformó en Louys por excentricidad. Se educó en París donde trabó amistad con André Gide y Paul Valéry. Empezó muy pronto a componer versos y en 1891 se reveló como poeta de tendencias parnasianas. Su obra, empero, aparecía rodeada de un sensualismo que hasta su visión de Grecia, a la que siempre consideró un mundo perfecto, queda reducida a un lugar ideal de amores libres, alegrías fáciles y delicados placeres. Tradujo la poesía de los autores griegos y fue, a su vez, poeta de forma pura. Su gusto de esteta decadente resultaba adecuado al ambiente del simbolismo tardío. Sus obras más notables son Las canciones de Bilitis (musicalizada luego por Debussy) y las novelas Afrodita y La mujer y el pelele, esta última protagonizada en su versión cinematográfica por Marlene Dietrich.

«Las tres hijas de su madre» relata la meticulosa iniciación de tres hijas por su madre a la actividad sexual profesional, a sus excentricidades, sus manías y sus vicios, desde su más tierna infancia hasta el encuentro con el narrador de esta novela, quien tiene la dicha de frecuentar asiduamente a esos cuatro seres, para quienes las cosas del sexo han dejado hace tiempo de ser tabú y que, por lo tanto, nos enseñan a recorrer las situaciones más escalofriantes con la ingenuidad y la naturalidad de un niño.

My version has the Willy Pogány illustrations and is translated by Alvah C. Bessie.
I’ve been aware of this and meaning to read it for decades. I really don’t know from where—I seem to remember it occasionally cropping up in vague references or allusions. I had no real idea what it was about, but it seemed to be something that some knowledgeable and respected writers had read, and I had vague ideas of eroticism and there were some misty and not really remembered connections with Anaïs Nin and James Joyce in the junk rooms of my memory. So I read it.
I have to admit that I started it with a certain amount of prejudice, knowing that Louÿs had created a, so to speak, forgery. To my surprise, though, I found the character, Bilitis, quite easy to believe in. Once I got my head away from expecting her to be a genuine ancient Greek, I found her story intriguing and, often, quite moving. I’m writing as a male, of course, and very aware that the words were actually written (and translated) by a male and I do wonder if a female would find her voice so genuine, but I really felt for her depictions of unrequited love and of growing old and losing her looks. Time has robbed the erotic bits of any shock value they may have had but I found them reasonably convincing and wasn’t overly aware of them as simply male-gaze titillation.
I thought it quite good and I am glad to have finally read it (though it will always be a minor niggle with me that a male wrote it—don’t really know how to get my head around that).

Je suis une fan de Louÿs - à mon âme et mon corps défendant. Son ingéniosité, sa verve, son humour et sa virtuosité me gagnent, malgré l'omniprésence répugnante de la pédophilie, de l'inceste, de l'orientalisme et du mépris de classe dans son oeuvre. Autrement dit: je déteste être fascinée à ce point. Donnez-moi une dizaine ou une vingtaine d'années, je vais peut-être arriver à me défaire de son influence sur mon écriture, mais pour l'instant, je vais devoir savourer mon plaisir dans la honte.

La venganza es dulce, ¿sabes?, muy dulce.

Concha treats Mateo the way men want to be treated. She makes him fall in love with her, but doesn't give in to him. She strings him along, for 14 months, until she has him just where she wants him. He buys a palace for her, and furnished it with everything her heart desires. Then she does to him what men love to do to women after they give themselves.

I give this bizarre little piece of Decadent erotica four stars. It’s purported to be “translated” from the second century dramatist/writer Lucian but from what little I’ve been able to glean from other sources is actually all the creation of the “translator” [a:Pierre Louÿs|47465|Pierre Louÿs|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1217345711p2/47465.jpg]. Oddly there is an introduction that talks about Lucian’s writing, etc. that lends verisimilitude to the whole thing.

The research I’ve done calls the whole a novel but it’s in the form of little, only partially connected, dramas, each only a few pages long. The book is full of prostitutes, lesbians, homosexuals, cuckolds, and the fiction is quite modern and entertaining. Probably considered racy in its time, there is nothing explicit and the English is in an archaic thee and thou to enhance its authenticity. It probably was a brown wrapper item in its day though.

I actually bought the book for the lovely Decadent Deco illustrations by [a:Beresford Egan|7212540|Beresford Egan|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png] which oddly and delightfully have nothing to do with the text.

The book is first edition numbered and on handmade paper copyright 1929 from Fortune Press which seems to have made a business out of unconventional books on everything from demonology and the occult to Mother Goose.

Erótico

La sonrisa vertical

I didn't know I was into classic erotic stories until I read this one. I don't know if it was due to the setting or Milo's beautiful art. Either way, I enjoyed it.

My score on this one has not been effected by any moral judgments. If it was it would be about minus 20 stars ;) . But i'm just going to put aside the questionable age of some of the characters and the authors complete certainty that women always mean Yes when they say No. It is or at last claims to be humour and if this was written by Rabelais in the 17th century i might be looking at it differently but 1901 is a bit too late to be this primitive.

This is a philosophical sexual comedy about a small kingdom where the only law is don't hurt anyone, apart from that you can do what you like especially when it comes to sex. Oh except for the royal family of course, where the king imposes his own set of rules, because this book can be quite realistic at times :) .
Despite its caveman ethics in places, its also quite advanced in others, there are gay characters and its belief in sexual freedoms is quite modern.

Its also genuinely funny at times. Its also quite confused, contradictory and meandering. An interesting satire on sexual ethics and very bold for the time period but no classic.

Of note i own [b:The Bumper B3ta Book of Sick Jokes|867419|The Bumper B3ta Book of Sick Jokes|Rob Manuel|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1348819893s/867419.jpg|852815], so bad non-pc humour is fine by me, however in this case it kept catching me off guard and you could never be sure how much of a joke was intended.

MBB-6

NB-4

Toda buena colección de Erótica debe contar con un libro al menos del gran Pierre Louÿs.

Las tres hijas de su madre es quizás el más desconcertante de toda su obra erótica. Con transgresor desenfado, relata la meticulosa iniciación de tres hijas por su madre a la actividad sexual profesional, a sus excentricidades, sus manías y su vicios, desde su más tierna infancia hasta el encuentro con el narrador de esta novela, quien tiene la dicha de frecuentar asiduamente a esos cuatro seres, para quienes las cosas del sexo han dejado hace tiempo de ser tabú y que, por lo tanto, nos enseñan a recorrer las situaciones más escalofriantes con la ingenuidad y la naturalidad de un niño.

Librería 7. Estante 3.

> « Je ne peux vivre où tu n'es pas. Reviens. C'est moi, maintenant, qui t'en supplie. »
Entre la jeune Concha et Mateo, l'amour est une passion qui fait mal. Il la désire éperdument, elle se dérobe et l'humilie, jusqu'au jour où Mateo, n'y tenant plus, renverse avec violence la situation.
Publié en 1898, La Femme et le Pantin est le chef-d'oeuvre de Pierre Louÿs (1870-1925). Étincelant roman de la servitude amoureuse, plusieurs fois adapté à l'écran – notamment par Bunuel dans Cet obscur objet du désir –, il installe l'auteur d'Aphrodite comme l'un des plus grands prosateurs du début du XXe siècle.
—admincb (Culturebox)

Pierre Louÿs (1870 - 1925) foi um poeta francês mais conhecido por seus temas lúdicos e clássicos, um escritor que "expressou sensualidade pagã com perfeição estilística". Em 1894, publicou uma coleção erótica de 143 poemas em prosa, Chansons de Bilitis. O que o tornou sensacional foi a alegação de Louys de que os poemas eram obra de uma antiga cortesã grega contemporânea de Safo, Bilitis; para si mesmo, Louÿs atribuiu-se o modesto papel de tradutor. Mas o simulacro não durou muito tempo e o "tradutor" Louÿs foi logo desmascarado como sendo Bilitis. Isso, no entanto, só fez aumentar o succès de scandale, sendo o livro elogiado como uma fonte de sensualidade elegante e estilo refinado, extraordinário como um retrato compassivo da sexualidade lésbica. Alguns dos poemas foram adaptados como música para voz e piano. O amigo íntimo de Louys, Claude Debussy, compôs um ciclo Chansons de Bilitis. Em 1955, uma das primeiras organizações lésbicas nos Estados Unidos se autodenominava Filhas de Bilitis, e até hoje as canções de Louÿs continuam a ser um trabalho importante para as lésbicas.½

That Obscure Object of Desire, 1977 Luis Buñuel's film based on the novel

French Decadent novelist and poet Pierre Louÿs' classic tale of obsessive love, once read, never forgotten, about Spanish aristocrat Don Mateo’s infatuation with Conchita, a young, beautiful Andalusian singer and dancer was first published in 1898 and served as the inspiration for That Obscure Object of Desire where director Luis Buñuel famously cast two actresses in the role of Conchita.

Initially I intended taking my time with this novel, reading slowly chapter by chapter over the course of a week’s vacation. But after the first several pages I became so absorbed with Don Mateo’s obsession with Conchita I couldn’t put the book down and finished reading in one afternoon. Why was this story so incredibly compelling? The answer revolves around Pierre Louÿs's delicate use of language, his subtle eroticism and his keen understanding of human psychology.

The novel begins with André, a Parisian, visiting the Spanish city of Seville during carnival; he has a brief exchange with an alluring young lady passing in her carriage. A rendezvous is set. A few days later, killing time wandering the streets before said rendezvous, André encounters Don Mateo, a previous acquaintance, and accepts his offer of conversation over a cigar and refreshing drinks back at Mateo’s hacienda.

Once seated, the men exchange words and then, feeling a twinge of excitement, André asks Don Mateo if he knows Dona Concepcion Garcia, the young woman he plans meeting. Once the Spaniard is told the alluring young lady of André's rendezvous is none other than the person who changed his life forever, the conversation takes a somber, serious tone.

From this point right up until the last pages, we listen along with André as Don Mateo recounts his heart-wrenching tale of obsession, frustration and outrage.

How did it all start? Don Mateo tells André of his first two rather insubstantial brushing with Conchita before going to her apartment where she lived with her mother. Upon leaving, he gladly gave the poor mother and daughter some bills and coins.

He was subsequently invited back and returned the next morning and found the mother at market and only Conchita at home. No sooner did he take a seat in an arm chair then Conchita sat on his knees and placed her two hands on his shoulders. Then, it happened. We read, “Instinctively, I had closed my arms about her and with one hand pulled toward me her dear face, which had become serious; but she anticipated my gesture and vivaciously placed her burning mouth on mind, looking at me deeply. Changeable and incomprehensible, I have always known her thus. The suddenness of her tenderness went to my head like a drink. I squeezed her still tighter. Her body yielded to my arm. I felt the heat and rounded form of her legs through the skirt. She got up.”

Although returning to the apartment on an almost daily basis, this is the only physical contact Don Mateo had for weeks. But such was the power of this young, vivacious beauty – simply the promise of future contact was enough to hold him like a vice-grip. And squeeze. Don Mateo tells of all of the various ways Conchita would squeeze the emotion out of him, the money out of him and all happiness out of him. Many times Conchita promised passionate embraces and each and every time there was a reason not to embrace. Don Mateo is driven mad.

Over the course of many months Don Mateo and Conchita play their parts in this melodrama, Conchita leaving for another city, Don Mateo following. And when Don Mateo finally has had enough and doesn’t return to Conchita, then Conchita suddenly pays a visit to Don Mateo. And tells him the fault for any lack of physical contact is entirely his. Don Mateo is driven not only mad but raving mad. But he holds all of his ravings to himself and simply, through tears, acknowledges the truth of Conchita’s words.

In desperation, Don Mateo seeks out the company and pleasure of another woman. He finds a large, muscular Italian dancer who is more than willing to go to bed with him and satisfy him in any way. But this lust-fest doesn’t even come close to satisfying his desires and taking away his suffering. Regretfully, he admits to himself there is only one woman in his life. Ah, Don Mateo, such is the power of human obsession!

Don Mateo returns again and again to his Conchita. There is one scene where he finds her in an upper room dancing the flamingo nude for two Englishmen. “Alas! My God! Never had I seen her so beautiful! It was no longer a question of her eyes or her fingers; all her body was as expressive as a face, more than a face; and her head, enveloped in hair, rested on her shoulders like a useless thing. There were smiles in the folds of her hips, blushing cheeks when she turned her flanks; her breasts seemed to look forward through two great eyes, fixed and dark. Never have I seen her so beautiful. I saw the gestures, the shivers, the movements of the arms, the legs, of the supple body and the muscular loins, born indefinitely from a visible source, the very center of her dance, the little brown belly.”

You will have to read the book to find out what happens next. But back on Luis Buñuel’s fine film: considering the sensual power, sheer energy and chameleon-like changeability of this Spanish beauty, this object of Don Mateo’s obsessive desire, Buñuel was spot-on to cast two stunning young actresses for the role of Conchita. Again, one read, this Pierre Louÿs tale will never be forgotten.


French author Pierre Louÿs, 1870-1925

A mother and her three daughters...sharing their inexhaustible sexual favours between the same young man, each other, and anyone else who enters their web of depravity. From a chance encounter on the stairway with a voluptuous young girl, the narrator is drawn to become the plaything of four rapacious females, experiencing them all in various combinations of increasingly wild debauchery, until they one day vanish as mysteriously as they had appeared. Described by Susan Sontang as one of the few works of the erotic imagination to deserve true literary status, The She Devils remains Pierre Lous' most intense, claustrophobic work; a study of sexual obsession and monomania unsurpassed in its depictions of carnal excess, unbridled lust and limitless perversity.

Mildly amusing but mostly juvenile and quite lewd satire of the educational handbooks that were popular in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Louÿs hadn’t intended it be published and it was probably meant as a private joke, but it is disturbing to see incest, molestation, rape, and child sex made light of, though those things and all of the other graphic commentary certainly provide a window into what is often idealized as a “more proper” age. Definitely nothing fit to quote here.½

French Decadent novelist/poet Pierre Louÿs' (1870-1925) classic tale of obsessive love, once read, never forgotten. This short novel about Spanish aristocrat Don Mateo’s infatuation with Conchita, a young, beautiful Andalusian singer and dancer was first published in 1898 and served as the inspiration for the 1970s film ‘That Obscure Object of Desire’ where director Luis Buñuel famously cast two actresses in the role of Conchita.

Initially I intended taking my time with this novel, reading slowly chapter by chapter over the course of a week’s vacation. But after the first several pages I became so absorbed with Don Mateo’s obsession with Conchita I couldn’t put the book down and finished reading in one afternoon. Why was this story so incredibly compelling? The answer revolves around Pierre Louÿs's delicate use of language, his subtle eroticism and his keen understanding of human psychology.

The novel begins with André, a Parisian, visiting the Spanish city of Seville during carnival; he has a brief exchange with an alluring young lady passing in her carriage. A rendezvous is set. A few days later, killing time wandering the streets before said rendezvous, André encounters Don Mateo, a previous acquaintance, and accepts his offer of conversation over a cigar and refreshing drinks back at Mateo’s hacienda. Once seated, the men exchange words and then, feeling a twinge of excitement, André asks Don Mateo if he knows Dona Concepcion Garcia, the young woman he plans meeting. Once the Spaniard is told the alluring young lady of André's rendezvous is none other than the person who changed his life forever, the conversation takes a somber, serious tone. From this point right up until the last pages, we listen along with André as Don Mateo recounts his heart-wrenching tale of obsession, frustration and outrage.

How did it all start? Don Mateo tells André of his first two rather insubstantial brushing with Conchita before going to her apartment where she lived with her mother. Upon leaving, he gladly gave the poor mother and daughter some bills and coins. He was subsequently invited back and returned the next morning and found the mother at market and only Conchita at home. No sooner did he take a seat in an arm chair then Conchita sat on his knees and placed her two hands on his shoulders. Then, it happened. We read, “Instinctively, I had closed my arms about her and with one hand pulled toward me her dear face, which had become serious; but she anticipated my gesture and vivaciously placed her burning mouth on mind, looking at me deeply. Changeable and incomprehensible, I have always known her thus. The suddenness of her tenderness went to my head like a drink. I squeezed her still tighter. Her body yielded to my arm. I felt the heat and rounded form of her legs through the skirt. She got up.”

Although returning to the apartment on an almost daily basis, this is the only physical contact Don Mateo had for weeks. But such was the power of this young, vivacious beauty – simply the promise of future contact was enough to hold him like a vice-grip. And squeeze. Don Mateo tells of all of the various ways Conchita would squeeze the emotion out of him, the money out of him and all happiness out of him. Many times Conchita promised passionate embraces and each and every time there was a reason not to embrace. Don Mateo is driven mad.

Over the course of many months Don Mateo and Conchita play their parts in this melodrama, Conchita leaving for another city, Don Mateo following. And when Don Mateo finally has had enough and doesn’t return to Conchita, then Conchita suddenly pays a visit to Don Mateo. And tells him the fault for any lack of physical contact is entirely his. Don Mateo is driven not only mad but raving mad. But he holds all of his ravings to himself and simply, through tears, acknowledges the truth of Conchita’s words.

In desperation, Don Mateo seeks out the company and pleasure of another woman. He finds a large, muscular Italian dancer who is more than willing to go to bed with him and satisfy him in any way. But this lust-fest doesn’t even come close to satisfying his desires and taking away his suffering. Regretfully, he admits to himself there is only one woman in his life. Ah, Don Mateo, such is the power of human obsession!

Don Mateo returns again and again to his Conchita. There is one scene where he finds her in an upper room dancing the flamingo nude for two Englishmen. We read, “Alas! My God! Never had I seen her so beautiful! It was no longer a question of her eyes or her fingers; all her body was as expressive as a face, more than a face; and her head, enveloped in hair, rested on her shoulders like a useless thing. There were smiles in the folds of her hips, blushing cheeks when she turned her flanks; her breasts seemed to look forward through two great eyes, fixed and dark. Never have I seen her so beautiful. . . . I saw the gestures, the shivers, the movements of the arms, the legs, of the supple body and the muscular loins, born indefinitely from a visible source, the very center of her dance, the little brown belly.”

You will have to read the book to find out what happens next. But back on Luis Buñuel’s fine film: considering the sensual power, sheer energy and chameleon-like changeability of this Spanish beauty, this object of Don Mateo’s obsessive desire, Buñuel was spot-on to cast two stunning young actresses for the role of Conchita. Again, one read, this Pierre Louÿs tale will never be forgotten.

The plot of this book is ludicrous in places, even if we consider that Louÿs is trying to give us an allegory written as if it was from antiquity. His main message is that nudity, human sexuality, and pleasure should be embraced, that these things which seem immoral in the worst of judgments and ephemeral in the best, are in reality what give so much joy to our brief lives, and the ancients knew this. He also points out the destructive power of love, particularly when one is submissive to another.

Louÿs is a fascinating author, because on the one hand he argues for tolerance, freedom from repression, and even gay marriage (in 1896!), while on the other, objectifies women. The novel comes across as intellectual soft-core porn, with a lot of descriptions of women in various stages of undress, and in this hand-made, numbered edition, a large number of illustrations by Zier. It’s all tastefully done, but at times seems quaint and dated, and at others seems seriously creepy, e.g. child prostitution, a crucifixion, and other cruelty. The story itself only merits 3 stars, but with a good, older edition, and considering that Louÿs was trying to push the boundaries, I did find it entertaining enough to round to 3.5 stars. And, I should note as a postscript, my hat is off to TheAmpersand for his excellent review (scroll down!); I couldn’t agree more.½

This collection from Pierre Louÿs has 9 stories that focus on mostly classical themes, expanding on mythology such as Leda, Ariadne, and Danae, and one longer story that reminded me of ‘Of Human Bondage’ in its tortured, masochistic, doomed love. This edition is a 2002 reprint of a 1930 book with nice art deco inspired illustrations by Siegel, and I liked the classical stories, retold with just a few light touches of eroticism. ‘Woman and Puppet’, the longer story, was less enjoyable, because it’s depressingly predictable. 3.5 stars for Part I, 3 stars for Part II.

Quotes:
On passionate kissing:
“She stood with her body pressed against mine, abandoning herself and, at the same time, stiffening. Our heads, joined at the mouth, merged in the shadow, our nostrils panting, our eyes closed. Never did I understand so clearly as in the vertigo, the frenzy, the half-unconscious state in which I found myself, all that is really meant by the ‘intoxication of the kiss.’ I no longer knew who we were, nor how we had come there, nor what would befall us. The present was of such fiery intensity that in it were melted the past and the future. Her lips moved under mine, she burned in my arms, and her small stomach, through her skirt, pressed me in a shameless and fervent caress.”

On sadness:
“Sorrow is always the same thing: a bygone joy which cannot be tasted again…”

This little bit of playful French fluff is part male fantasy, part social satire, and part political manifesto – probably in that order. Pierre Louÿs was the author Colette had young Claudine reading at school, and in reading him, you can see just how inappropriate that was.

In this book, the mythical kingdom of Tryphemia off of the French coast is ruled by Pausole, a laissez-faire king (in this case, lazy-faire king?-) who has a few general principles, but doesn’t really want to be bothered by administration, or much of anything for that matter. He instead leaves it to his advisors, one of whom, a minister and court Eunuch, he grants control for half of the day, the other, a page who is always after the women (and consistently succeeds with them), the other half. How’s that for delegating? The king’s daughter has run off, and they engage in what amounts to a low-speed pursuit, running into various subjects along the way.

The positives for the book all center around its concepts of freedom. The kingdom’s ‘Code’ is the epitome of small government, and individual liberty, consisting of two rules: (1) Thou shalt not harm thy neighbor, and (2) This being understood, do as thou wouldst. He allows religious freedom “to experience the consolations of the various Paradises in turn”, and his subjects at all levels praise him for leaving them the hell alone. Indolent as he is, he says “the citizens of Europe are tired of feeling at every moment the hand of authority on their shoulder, an authority which is made unbearable by being omnipresent.” He allows sexual freedom, recognizing non-binary sexuality (his daughter has actually run off with another woman), the concept that women do not fit into two simple types (“chaste” and “satanic”), and allows women to leave their husbands and get a divorce if it suits them (a novelty at that time).

On the negative side, the book is a little too bawdy. All of the actual sex is ‘off-screen’, but it’s pretty pervasive, and while Louÿs gets pretty daring at times (a “handy banana” comes to mind), it starts to lose its appeal midway through. The bigger issue, however, is that women are essentially playthings – the king literally has a wife for each night, the traditional custom is for women (and girls) to walk around naked, and while many of the scenes are tongue-in-cheek fantasy, some are misogynistic, such as 40 guards being sent off to have a young woman in the woods, one after another (which Louÿs of course has her enjoying).

If only the book had been more mature and enlightened, because it is a fun read for the most part, and this edition is so fantastic – numbered copy 135 out of 1200 made on hand-made paper by The Fortune Press in London in 1929, with very uneven pages and interesting font.½

Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, and procreation. In the same manner which the Roman’s worshipped Venus, the Greeks similarly adored Aphrodite. But this particular book is not the story of the goddess Aphrodite. It is the story of a beautiful courtesan by the name of Chrysis, taking place in Alexandria, Egypt during the days of ancient Greece.

Although courtesan is just a glorified name for prostitute, the Greeks did not find shame or disrespect in that profession. In fact, quite the opposite. “Love, with all its components, was for the Greeks the most virtuous of all sentiments and the one most prolific in greatness”. Their ancient moral code proclaimed, “there is nothing under the sun more sacred than physical love, nor more beautiful than the human body.”

Written by the French author Louys in 1896, "Aphrodite" (or "Ancient Manners") paints a fascinating picture of the social and cultural life of the courtesans around the year 270 BC. The plot involves a famous sculptor Demetrios… a man honored and loved by Queen Berenice. Unfortunately he does not return the feelings… scorning the queen and all other women of Alexandria who swoon at his feet. That is- until he meets Chrysis- the most beautiful courtesan of Alexandria. And Chrysis is the only woman in Alexandria who refuses to swoon, ultimately resulting in tragic consequences.

This parody reminds me of Max Beerbohm’s "Zuleika Dobson". Both novels revolve around a desirable narcissistic woman whose lofty ambition is to achieve such greatness as to become immortal in the memories of others. Both women use their beauty to lure a man to unthinkably insane actions.

The Lewis Galantiere translation of "Aphrodite" for the Modern Library collection is excellent. The lyrical prose is poetic, the dialogue natural, the descriptions vivid, and the plot intriguing.½

Quite possibly the best novel ever written by an incorrigibly lecherous Belgian. "Aphrodite" combines some small degree of historical research with pure male fantasy, and it is, in places, a fun, sunny, smutty read, a pure product of European decadence in the best sense. In other places, though, the book gets darker: the book's high camp is broken up by scenes of astonishing cruelty and a rather shockingly casual attitude toward pedophilia, rape, and extreme violence. "Aphrodite," perhaps unintentionally, deftly exposes the cruelty and unhappiness that tends to underpin most society-wide fantasies and the weird (to the modern reader, anyway) social and racial attitudes that circulated in Europe at the time of its writing. The benefit of a bit of distance makes the novel a sort of x-ray of cultural and sexual attitudes, and not all of these are really commendable. Still, Chrysis herself is as foxy a character as you'll find anywhere in literature, and Louys includes a ton of historical detail, which, though it may or may not be true, convinces and charms. As another reviewer has mentioned, the novel seems to have been translated using an appropriately light touch. It's all trash, of course, but it's both enjoyable and darkly revealing, in about equal measure.