Isidore Ducasse (Montevideo, Uruguay, 4 de abril de – París, Francia, 24 de noviembre de ), conocido como Conde de Lautréamont, fue un poeta de . Leia as melhores citações do autor Conde de Lautréamont. Isidore Lucien Ducasse, mais conhecido pelo pseudónimo literário de Conde de. Author: Comte de Lautréamont Author Record # ; Legal Name: Ducasse, Los cantos de Maldoror [Spanish] () [as by Conde de Lautréamont].

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Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Paul Knight Translator and Introduction. Alternate version of this book.

Frases de Conde de Lautréamont (8 citações) | Citações e frases famosas

The writing is drenched with an unrestrained savagery and menace, and the startling imagery — delirious, erotic, blasphemous and grandiose by turns — possesses a remarkable hallucinatory quality. Jarry, Modigliani, Verlaine and others hailed it as a work of genius. Paperbackpages. Published by Penguin Classics first published To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up.

To ask other readers questions about Maldoror and Poemsplease sign up. Lists with This Book. Mar 01, Cphe rated it liked it Shelves: Had I had an inkling early on of how much “Brain Pain” this would cause I very much doubt that I would have started this.

However the challenge to the reader was thrown down within the first few pages. What reader can resist such a challenge? I won’t comment on the overall literary aspect of it because I don’t feel as if I have those “credentials”. The imagery is strong, powerful, visceral, it’s also repugnant, blasphemous, shocking, confusing, elusive but at the same time strangely compelling an Had I had an inkling early on of how much “Brain Pain” this would cause I very much doubt that I would have started this.

The imagery is strong, powerful, visceral, it’s also repugnant, blasphemous, shocking, confusing, elusive but at the same time strangely compelling and thought provoking. The imagery is so powerful that I at times felt drenched by it.

Parts of the text I wanted to morally shy away from It’s written with a “feverish” intensity that at times I had to break away from.

It’s not a work that can easily be assimilated.

Amazed that the author was twenty four when he wrote this but on reflection I shouldn’t be surprised because I felt that only youth would have had the audacity and verve to write this, and carry it off. Some of the imagery evoked within these Chants will haunt me for a long time to come. I’m unsure what rating to give here, I may have to return when I’m not so “numb. Maldoror and Poems is a great work.

It’s audacious, original, startling, heartfelt, insincere, sincere, brutal, funny, outrageous, paradoxical, inspirational. It is the opposite of itself. It’s one or two of a kind. Some will be attracted to the book because it is sensational. Some will be repelled for the exact same reason. I’ve commented earlier and elsewhere that–though I could be regarded as a jaded reader–I found some of the passages in Maldoror remarkably difficult and painful. Though I don’t think I am any kind of sadistic thrill-seeker, I’d say that the preceding sentence is actually evidence of the strength lautrewmont peculiar nature of the book.


That’s because the author does not merely hammer upon us with a barrage of violent absurdities though some will perceive it that way. On the contrary, he knows how to enlist our sympathy without seeming to do conxe.

Or perhaps he simply exploits our humanity. In a previous pre-review, I objected to the association of this text with surrealism. The surrealists comde inspired by it, and the text has some relationship to the later developments of surrealism, but I think it would give a very distorted picture to suppose there is a strong relationship here.

I also objected to the cover art, which is a petty gripe, but seriously One more objection I raised was against the main description attached to our Goodreads record.

Yeah, well, this is a tough book to categorize or accurately portray in a capsule, and I suspect that readers will be highly divided on just how this book could be fairly described. Which brings me to another point. I think if you assemble twelve fans of this book, they will all eye one another very suspiciously. None will trust the others’ motives or rationale coned liking–or loving–this book. Then, one may also feel a bit uncomfortable looking in the mirror after reading this. You may suspect your own reflection, or may recoil in shame at the piercing and accusatory glance which confronts you.

Thus, of course, we must have a very suspicious and uncomfortable relationship with the author too–or with the author as we imagine him to be. I referred, a few times above, to contradictions. It lauhreamont to me that the author employed an interesting strategy with remarkable results.

It appears that he wrote, then returned and revised his sentences by arbitrarily inverting them, throwing in a “not,” or other negation just when its appearance would be least intuitive, may be quite irrational at first glance, but which also invites a new perspective. This appears to happen in Maldoror I perceived it as happening more frequently starting with “Book 3” of Maldoror and it is developed to its extreme when we come to the anti-book “Poems.

It’s the only “complete” work. But let’s not neglect “poems. First of all, I keep putting quotes around “poems,” because, as far I can tell this could be a title for the work, but it is not a collection of poems But anyway, if readers were prone to misconstrue Maldoror, I think they’re doubly likely to be deceived by “poems.

When reading something of this sort, coming from this particular author, knowing what we know of the work he has previously produced, knowing his age and literary leanings, this should be an obvious caution: If you read something which seems patently absurd in “poems,” you should take it as a sure sign that the author was aware of the absurdity–and it was intentional.

The author’s approach, and the nature of his topic, ensure that his writing will always remain somewhat mysterious and paradoxical. What exactly were his most sincere thoughts cannot be easily or certainly deduced Which leaves the strongest impression? The terror of sin which is communicated in-between the lines of Maldoror, or the savoring of sin and the sadistic joy of annihilating mankind and oneself in the process?

Which is stronger, the advocacy of passionate and anarchic literature which peeks through the cracks of “poems,” or the surface moralizing and overt condemnation of all expressions of sorrow and negative passion In the end, is Maldoror truly “poems” in disguise, while “poems” is a concealed Maldoror?


They both affirm one another covertly, while expressly repudiating one another. Later, I may revise again to introduce a few quotes from the work into the section above: His evil protagonist is a sensitive soul too, and at times has a noble desire to see evidence of the goodness of man, but he’s also so terribly cynical, on a scale we rarely see in any form of literature, and the author is such an effective devil’s advocate, that he makes the reader experience both the thrill and the shame of his devilishness.

Who knows what will come out in the end? View all 9 comments. Dec 05, Eadweard rated it it was amazing Shelves: Sept 1st Book page Hymn of Glorification to Lice. Sectio Maldoror Read again: Sinking ship, Maldoror mates with a shark. God leaves behind a single strand of hair after visiting a brothel. Some bits I liked: I am riddled with lice.

Maldoror and Poems

Hogs, when they look at me, vomit. My skin is encrusted with the scabs and scales of leprosy, and covered with yellowish pus. I know neither the water of rivers nor connde dew of clouds.

An enormous, mushroom with umbelliferous stalks is growing on my nape, as on a dunghill. Sitting on a shapeless piece of furniture, I have not moved laautreamont limbs now for four centuries. My feet have taken root in the ground; up to my belly, they form a sort of tenacious vegetation, full of filthy parasites; this vegetation no longer has anything in common with other plants, nor is it flesh. And yet my heart beats. How could it beat, if the rottenness and miasmata of my corpse I dare not say bodydid not nourish it abundantly?

A family of toads has taken up residence in my left armpit laugreamont, when one of them moves, it tickles. Mind one of them does not escape and come and scratch the inside of your ear with its cconde for it would then be able to enter your brain. In my right armpit there is a chameleon which is perpetually chasing them, to avoid starving to death: But when one party has completely foiled the cunning tricks of the other, they like nothing better than to leave one another in peace and suck the delicate fat which covers my sides: I am used to it.

An evil snake ocnde eaten my verge and taken its place; the filthy creature has made me a eunuch. Oh if only I could have defended myself with my paralysed hands; but I lautreakont think they have changed into logs.

However that may be, it is important to state that my red blood no longer flows there. Two little hedgehogs, which have stopped growing, threw the inside of my testicles to a dog, who did not turn up his nose at it: My anus has been penetrated by a crab; encouraged by my sluggishness, he cinde the entrance with his pincers, and causes me a lot of pain!