La Fanfarlo
3/5
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About this ebook
Narra la historia de los amores y desamores del joven poeta Samuel Cramer.Una pequeña joya de la literatura clásica.
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) was a French poet. Born in Paris, Baudelaire lost his father at a young age. Raised by his mother, he was sent to boarding school in Lyon and completed his education at the Lycée Louis-le-Grand in Paris, where he gained a reputation for frivolous spending and likely contracted several sexually transmitted diseases through his frequent contact with prostitutes. After journeying by sea to Calcutta, India at the behest of his stepfather, Baudelaire returned to Paris and began working on the lyric poems that would eventually become The Flowers of Evil (1857), his most famous work. Around this time, his family placed a hold on his inheritance, hoping to protect Baudelaire from his worst impulses. His mistress Jeanne Duval, a woman of mixed French and African ancestry, was rejected by the poet’s mother, likely leading to Baudelaire’s first known suicide attempt. During the Revolutions of 1848, Baudelaire worked as a journalist for a revolutionary newspaper, but soon abandoned his political interests to focus on his poetry and translations of the works of Thomas De Quincey and Edgar Allan Poe. As an arts critic, he promoted the works of Romantic painter Eugène Delacroix, composer Richard Wagner, poet Théophile Gautier, and painter Édouard Manet. Recognized for his pioneering philosophical and aesthetic views, Baudelaire has earned praise from such artists as Arthur Rimbaud, Stéphane Mallarmé, Marcel Proust, and T. S. Eliot. An embittered recorder of modern decay, Baudelaire was an essential force in revolutionizing poetry, shaping the outlook that would drive the next generation of artists away from Romanticism towards Symbolism, and beyond. Paris Spleen (1869), a posthumous collection of prose poems, is considered one of the nineteenth century’s greatest works of literature.
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Reviews for La Fanfarlo
30 ratings2 reviews
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Only poets are innocent enough to invent such monstrosities.
Perhaps I should have enjoyed this more. It appeared jerky, fissured with jump cuts and unsettling twitches. I realized early that this reminded me of Balzac , who handles this theme better. It has been a strange 10 days and this may have bled into my reading.
A misfit man of letters encounters a childhood flame and helps to fix a man doing his lady wrong. This is achieved by wooing the wrong. This won't dissuade me from my Baudelaire fascination, though I may be making more room for Brecht, Beckett and Genet in coming days.
Postscript: Sometimes sleeping after a review will forge an additional vantage. Not this time. I would like to read Sartre's book on Baudelaire. - Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Firstly, this is a 50 page short story; this edition of the book looks more meaty because it also contains the entire text in French.Generally, I like Baudelaire and there are moments when the prose of "La Fanfarlo" shows some of his wit and poetic sensibility. But much of the story suffers from his pretension and his need to drop unnecessary and distracting literary references all over the place. It's a young man's book; so these are not surprising errors. The book is very much in dialogue with the French authors that Baudelaire wished to dethrone and it prevents his authentic and individual voice from emerging.Though it does have a few interesting thoughts on jealousy, attraction and relationships. Some good parts: "Men caught in the snare of their own mistakes do not like to make an offering of their remorse on the alter of clemency."" . . . sitting on the edge of the bed with the insouciance, the triumphant serenity of the adored woman . . . ""What aura of such magical charm does vice cast around certain creatures? What crooked, repulsive aspect does their virtue impart to certain others?"
Book preview
La Fanfarlo - Charles Baudelaire
La fanfarlo
Charles Baudelaire
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Samuel Cramer, que en otros tiempos había firmado bajo el nombre de Manuela de Monteverde varias locuras románticas –en los buenos tiempos del Romanticismo–, es el producto contradictorio entre un pálido alemán y una chilena mulata. Añada a este doble origen una educación francesa y una cultura literaria, y quedará usted menos sorprendido –ya que no satisfecho y edificado– de las complicadas rarezas de este carácter. Samuel tiene la frente pura y noble, los ojos brillantes como gotas de café, la nariz grosera y burlona, los labios impúdicos y sensuales, el mentón cuadrado y déspota, y la cabellera pretenciosamente rafaelesca. Es a la vez un gran holgazán, un triste ambicioso y un ilustre infeliz; ya que en toda su vida no ha tenido más que ideas a medias. El sol de la pereza que resplandece sin cesar en su interior, vaporiza y consume aquella mitad de genio con que el cielo lo ha dotado. Entre todos los medio-grandes hombres que he conocido en esta terrible vida parisina, Samuel fue, más que cualquier otro, el hombre de las bellas obras fallidas; criatura fantástica y enfermiza, cuya poesía brilla más en su persona que en sus obras, y que, hacia la una de la mañana, entre el resplandor de un fuego de carbón y el tic-tac de un reloj, se memuestra siempre como el dios de la impotencia, dios moderno y hermafrodita, ¡impotencia tan colosal y enorme que torna épica!
¿Cómo ponerles al tanto y hacerles ver con claridad el interior de esta tenebrosa naturaleza, plagada de vivos destellos, perezosa y emprendedora al mismo tiempo, fecunda en difíciles designios y en risibles fracasos; espíritu en el que la paradoja toma a menudo proporciones de ingenuidad, y cuya imaginación era tan basta como la soledad y la pereza absolutas? Uno de los defectos más naturales en Samuel era el considerarse igual a aquellos que admiraba; después de la apasionante lectura de un hermoso libro, su conclusión involuntaria era: ¡Esto es tan bello, que podría ser mío!
Y de ahí a pensar: Es por lo tanto, mío…
, no hay más que un paso.
En el mundo actual, esta clase de carácter es mucho más frecuente de lo que se piensa; las calles, los paseos públicos, los cafés y todos los refugios de los paseantes pululan de seres de esta especie. Estos se sienten tan bien con el nuevo modelo, que no están lejos de creerse sus inventores. Hoy les vemos penosamente descifrando las páginas místicas de Plotino o de Porfirio; mañana admirarán cómo Crevillon hijo ha expresado el lado frívolo y francés de su carácter. Ayer se entretenían familiarmente con Jerónimo Cardan; ahora veles aquí jugando con Sterne, o entregándose con Rabelais a todos los excesos de la hipérbole. Y son de hecho tan felices con cada una de sus metamorfosis,