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Emmanuelle #1
Emmanuelle
With Story of O, this classic erotic book is the most famous French underground novel of the late 20th century, a work of seductive literary merit. It appears an autobiographical novel by a French Foreign Service diplomat's wife. It opens as Emmanuelle flys from London to rejoin her husband in Bangkok. Compelled by an overnight passenger seated beside her, her irrepressible nature opens vistas of sensual possibility. She moves easily from her spouse's arms to intimacies with his business associates' wives & to further explorations in which subtle erotic aesthetics are fully expounded & enacted. Selling millions of copies since a clandestine French publication, Emmanuelle shows a woman's progress from unconscious to profoundly conscious sexuality.
252 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
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4211 people want to read
About the author
Emmanuelle Arsan
100 books62 followersEmmanuelle Arsan, née Marayat Bibidh, aussi Marayat, Marajat, Kramsaseddinsh, Krasaesundh, Krassaesibor, Virajjakkam, Virajjakam, Virajjakari, Rollet-Andriane, Bibidh. Née en 1932 ou en 1940 à Bangkok, romancière française d'origine thaïlandaise. (French novelist of thaï origin)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 175 reviews
January 8, 2009
I could easily write a cop-out, only-read-Playboy-for-the-stories type of review here. Lot of very interesting philosophical insights, perhaps a bit too much sex, that kind of thing. Fellow GoodReaders, I cannot lie to you. Nothing could in fact be further from the truth. I wolfed down the first two-thirds of this book, which consist of one juicy sex scene after another. Then she met dull, creepy, manipulative Mario, and we got started on the philosophy. I felt my eyes closing. I tried several times to read further, but I just couldn't do it.
I was assailed by horrible pangs of guilt. Ms. Arsan is clearly not stupid (she originally wanted to be an astronomer - I did too!), and she writes quite well. She just happens to be much better at writing about sex than philosophy. But she seemed to have put a lot of work into the philosophy, and it was terrible that I didn't even read that part of the book. I almost thought I'd somehow taken advantage of her.
Well, Emmanuelle, everyone has things they're good at and things they just wish they were good at. I understand that Bertrand Russell's Principia Sexualis was a complete flop, and that he humiliated himself further by unsuccessfully trying to sell the movie rights. He only started to recover a little when they gave him the Nobel Prize. It's possible that that story isn't literally true in every detail, but I really and truly don't want you to feel bad about this unfortunate episode. It's my fault, not yours.
I was assailed by horrible pangs of guilt. Ms. Arsan is clearly not stupid (she originally wanted to be an astronomer - I did too!), and she writes quite well. She just happens to be much better at writing about sex than philosophy. But she seemed to have put a lot of work into the philosophy, and it was terrible that I didn't even read that part of the book. I almost thought I'd somehow taken advantage of her.
Well, Emmanuelle, everyone has things they're good at and things they just wish they were good at. I understand that Bertrand Russell's Principia Sexualis was a complete flop, and that he humiliated himself further by unsuccessfully trying to sell the movie rights. He only started to recover a little when they gave him the Nobel Prize. It's possible that that story isn't literally true in every detail, but I really and truly don't want you to feel bad about this unfortunate episode. It's my fault, not yours.
August 15, 2022
Emmanuelle is 19 years old and leaves to find her husband Jean, a diplomat in Bangkok, whom she married a few months earlier. The society that welcomes it is costly and idle; fidelity, as an amusing eccentricity, integrity is a shocking defeat. And Emmanuelle, with her husband's consent, is not against some adventures; the freedom of these women intimidates him.
One of them will pity the girl, take charge of her education, and entrust her to Mario's hands. He has concrete ideas about what eroticism should be and not be: to separate man a little more from the animal. We must avoid everything that is biological instinct. But, conversely, it is necessary to look for "non-natural" pleasures, the unusual, with an unlimited number of partners.
Emmanuelle is a philosophy of sexuality rather than a simple erotic novel, classified in the same category as Sade. Before this novel, the pinnacle of eroticism was to whip on his father's coffin, with Emmanuelle placing happy and bright sexuality. May she be warmly thanked, whatever one thinks of her principles!
One of them will pity the girl, take charge of her education, and entrust her to Mario's hands. He has concrete ideas about what eroticism should be and not be: to separate man a little more from the animal. We must avoid everything that is biological instinct. But, conversely, it is necessary to look for "non-natural" pleasures, the unusual, with an unlimited number of partners.
Emmanuelle is a philosophy of sexuality rather than a simple erotic novel, classified in the same category as Sade. Before this novel, the pinnacle of eroticism was to whip on his father's coffin, with Emmanuelle placing happy and bright sexuality. May she be warmly thanked, whatever one thinks of her principles!
May 8, 2018
Sometimes we just need stereotypes to be confirmed: after all is said and done, we find in conventional ideas the last staple of our decaying culture.
The Thai writer Emmanuelle Arsan (actually Marayat Bibidh or Krasaesin or Virajjakkam or, for Heaven's sake, there seem to be a hundred more) became - lucky her - Madame Rollet-Andriane by marrying a French diplomat she met while still in her teens. He was 30. The happy couple moved to Bangkok soon after the ceremony... and the real fun began for both.
As soon as Miss Telephone Directory became Madame R.-Andriane, the discreet charm of the 50s haute bourgeoisie swallowed her down in its receptacle of easy pleasure and glamourous lust, a world of muffled boredom and glittering sins, too high up for anybody to care about any sort of private respectability or cheap moralism: as long as careers are not affected, anything can be done and nobody is going to complain.
Here's the triumphant cliché of the degenerate, parasitical, lazy, bored to death upper class... no doubt the most arousing cliché of all.
Now, the novel.
* Sigh *
This is her first novel, the first of a long series, written in 1959 and published clandestinely in France. By 1974, when J. Jaeckin's film version was made out of the first volume, it had become a classic and a milestone in all-time erotica.
The protagonist is the young and beautiful Emmanuelle, who joins her diplomat husband in Bangkok (there COULD be something self-referential here) where she's immediately introduced to the fancy élite gravitating around the French diplomacy.
After a first class flight spent mostly in a stranger's arms, and this is clearly a euphemism, Emmanuelle is warmly welcomed by the female high society she now belongs to; nobody can resist her beauty, and the generous attitude with which she shares it among her new acquaintances definitely helps.
She also meets Mario, a homosexual Italian expat (thanks a lot, Marayat.. that's what we needed, really) living in Bangkok, enjoying gorgeous youths and huge amounts of opium; this man, for whatever reason, takes Emmanuelle to sort of a brothel and opium den, where he hands her over to some locals (presumably on the mama-san's payroll). This is supposed to be part of the girl's education; we all wonder whether she actually needed his contribution anyway. In the meantime, Mario keeps philosophizing and giving his precious advice on eroticism and self-consciousness to his otherwise busy pupil.
And then... well, that's all.
From the point of view of literature, this novel is mediocre. And I'm being quite generous.
The eroticism is due mostly to the bourgeois setting. I mean, the protagonist's sexual exploits are not exactly memorable. Arsan has an annoying tendency to sugarcoat what should be the mere description of sex and pleasure by the use of ridiculous metaphors and a verbal virtuosity she doesn't master at all. The writing is not too bad, but it's just not intriguing. After a decent start, the reader ends up being more interested in the description of the exotic landscape than anything else, as though shifting from a soft-core film to a National Geographic documentary.
Except that this is supposed to be an erotic tale, not a Lonely Planet guidebook.
The only merit of this book is the depiction of the moral climate of the high-class milieu it portrays. Let aside the dialogues, in which the shallowness is less voluntary than spontaneous, the author is good at rendering the sense of lazy abandonment of her characters; maybe it's just me, but there seem to be a gloomy atmosphere permeating the book, almost imperceptible in the blinding light of this torrid cliché.
(Trivia: Sylvia Kristel is just great in the 'official' film series, but I still prefer the Venezuelan actress playing Emmanuelle in the 1993 tv series, Marcela Walerstein. Her beaverish front teeth are an absolute turn-on).
The Thai writer Emmanuelle Arsan (actually Marayat Bibidh or Krasaesin or Virajjakkam or, for Heaven's sake, there seem to be a hundred more) became - lucky her - Madame Rollet-Andriane by marrying a French diplomat she met while still in her teens. He was 30. The happy couple moved to Bangkok soon after the ceremony... and the real fun began for both.
As soon as Miss Telephone Directory became Madame R.-Andriane, the discreet charm of the 50s haute bourgeoisie swallowed her down in its receptacle of easy pleasure and glamourous lust, a world of muffled boredom and glittering sins, too high up for anybody to care about any sort of private respectability or cheap moralism: as long as careers are not affected, anything can be done and nobody is going to complain.
Here's the triumphant cliché of the degenerate, parasitical, lazy, bored to death upper class... no doubt the most arousing cliché of all.
Now, the novel.
* Sigh *
This is her first novel, the first of a long series, written in 1959 and published clandestinely in France. By 1974, when J. Jaeckin's film version was made out of the first volume, it had become a classic and a milestone in all-time erotica.
The protagonist is the young and beautiful Emmanuelle, who joins her diplomat husband in Bangkok (there COULD be something self-referential here) where she's immediately introduced to the fancy élite gravitating around the French diplomacy.
After a first class flight spent mostly in a stranger's arms, and this is clearly a euphemism, Emmanuelle is warmly welcomed by the female high society she now belongs to; nobody can resist her beauty, and the generous attitude with which she shares it among her new acquaintances definitely helps.
She also meets Mario, a homosexual Italian expat (thanks a lot, Marayat.. that's what we needed, really) living in Bangkok, enjoying gorgeous youths and huge amounts of opium; this man, for whatever reason, takes Emmanuelle to sort of a brothel and opium den, where he hands her over to some locals (presumably on the mama-san's payroll). This is supposed to be part of the girl's education; we all wonder whether she actually needed his contribution anyway. In the meantime, Mario keeps philosophizing and giving his precious advice on eroticism and self-consciousness to his otherwise busy pupil.
And then... well, that's all.
From the point of view of literature, this novel is mediocre. And I'm being quite generous.
The eroticism is due mostly to the bourgeois setting. I mean, the protagonist's sexual exploits are not exactly memorable. Arsan has an annoying tendency to sugarcoat what should be the mere description of sex and pleasure by the use of ridiculous metaphors and a verbal virtuosity she doesn't master at all. The writing is not too bad, but it's just not intriguing. After a decent start, the reader ends up being more interested in the description of the exotic landscape than anything else, as though shifting from a soft-core film to a National Geographic documentary.
Except that this is supposed to be an erotic tale, not a Lonely Planet guidebook.
The only merit of this book is the depiction of the moral climate of the high-class milieu it portrays. Let aside the dialogues, in which the shallowness is less voluntary than spontaneous, the author is good at rendering the sense of lazy abandonment of her characters; maybe it's just me, but there seem to be a gloomy atmosphere permeating the book, almost imperceptible in the blinding light of this torrid cliché.
(Trivia: Sylvia Kristel is just great in the 'official' film series, but I still prefer the Venezuelan actress playing Emmanuelle in the 1993 tv series, Marcela Walerstein. Her beaverish front teeth are an absolute turn-on).
March 31, 2022
Porno Metafisico (fisico solo per metà)
A coloro che si lamentano che il porno non abbia trama, Emanuelle propone una duplice astrazione (fisica e mentale) spossante quanto una gara di biathlon. Se non sei lì a prendere la mira con la carabina significa che stai infilando il bastone nella neve. Ma se nella prima parte vi sono scene da porno classico (sesso in aereo, sesso al party, sesso al museo -no, quest’ultimo non mi pare-) è la seconda ad avere dell’incredibile; per più di cento pagine si è sottoposti alla filosofia di tale Mario, che invece di farlo davanti agli specchi vi si arrampica contorcendosi in deduzioni, insegnamenti, consigli.. un po’ professore, un po’ mistificatore da bar, parecchio omo. Emanuelle frigge vogliosa e lui mena il can per l’aia chinandosi di frequente ad insacchettare non il prodotto del cane, bensì il proprio. Il numero di cagate in quelle cento pagine è da virus intestinale in caserma. La prima parte alla marchesA de Sade, la seconda alla Carlo Consiglio; chiedo aiuto alla rete per capirci qualcosa:
https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmanue...
Ho riflettuto sul fatto che porno ed erotismo possono funzionare solo se declinati in un racconto. Un romanzo erotico altro non è che un insieme di racconti raccordati in modo discutibile (come in questo caso).
A coloro che si lamentano che il porno non abbia trama, Emanuelle propone una duplice astrazione (fisica e mentale) spossante quanto una gara di biathlon. Se non sei lì a prendere la mira con la carabina significa che stai infilando il bastone nella neve. Ma se nella prima parte vi sono scene da porno classico (sesso in aereo, sesso al party, sesso al museo -no, quest’ultimo non mi pare-) è la seconda ad avere dell’incredibile; per più di cento pagine si è sottoposti alla filosofia di tale Mario, che invece di farlo davanti agli specchi vi si arrampica contorcendosi in deduzioni, insegnamenti, consigli.. un po’ professore, un po’ mistificatore da bar, parecchio omo. Emanuelle frigge vogliosa e lui mena il can per l’aia chinandosi di frequente ad insacchettare non il prodotto del cane, bensì il proprio. Il numero di cagate in quelle cento pagine è da virus intestinale in caserma. La prima parte alla marchesA de Sade, la seconda alla Carlo Consiglio; chiedo aiuto alla rete per capirci qualcosa:
https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmanue...
Ho riflettuto sul fatto che porno ed erotismo possono funzionare solo se declinati in un racconto. Un romanzo erotico altro non è che un insieme di racconti raccordati in modo discutibile (come in questo caso).
October 2, 2009
Believe it or not this is one of the first novels I ever read...in elementary school about 5th grade. I found it in my Fathers closet..among other things *grin* I know..eww it was my Dad but trust me when I say all I had to do was open the book to forget.
I have to say that although I have not reread it since then it is embedded in my memory as one of the most provocative and far from boring books I ever read ; )
I have to say that although I have not reread it since then it is embedded in my memory as one of the most provocative and far from boring books I ever read ; )
August 9, 2017
I can't believe how much of so called erotica now is bondage and S and M. Perhaps because Fifty Shades of Gray got a movie deal? I found it unreadable and the wannabes unspeakable. Like the real thing, for me fantasy sex has to start in my brain, so I need beautiful writing, believable characters, and something interesting for them to do besides f*ck each other. Ms. Arsan's story feels so real it's hard to believe it isn't a memoir. I haven't done all these things, but I like to dream...
August 16, 2014
This book was terrible. T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E! I suffered through the first 125 pages and kept reading, because I thought that it simply had to get better. It is a fairly popular classic French underground novel. I have read several of those, including Story Of O, and this was the worst by far. Other than the quality of the writing, which was pretty decent, I have nothing good to say about Arsan's work. There is little character development with any of the characters, and all of the relationships were weird or incestuous. The dialogue is dreadful, there is really no plot to speak of, and the juicy bits weren't juicy enough. I hated Emmanuelle's relationship with Marie Anne. The idea of a thirteen-year-old Ophelia acting as a mentor to a married woman turned my stomach. It was even more concerning that this little girl was the protégé of an older man who engaged in questionable activities.
When I thought that this novel couldn't get any worse, the entire story took a dreadful, Kafkaesque turn in describing the culture of the Muria people and the means with which they educated their children in the art of love. This section was part of a larger philosophical ranting that encompassed half of the book. Some of the theories were insightful and thought-provoking. However, Arsan's wording is redundant, and what took up one hundred pages could have easily been summarized in four or five. Her musings about the moral evolution of man were interesting, but substantially out of place and not suitable for a book of this genre.
I would like to save the next reader the trouble of searching for the good parts of this novel, so I am going to list them here for you;
1. When describing what beauty was, Mario stated, "If you try to make beauty eternal, it dies. What's beautiful is not what's bare, but what's baring itself. Not the sound of laughter, but the throat that's laughing. Not what's left on paper, but the moment when the artist's heart is being torn. (Arsan 114)"
2. When speaking of love and beauty, which Arsan ranted about for seventy pages or so, there was this useful quote, "It's because of love of beauty that the world will ultimately refuse to sit in the theater of illusion where the masqueraders of politics and revelations act out their shadow play with regal slowness. The universe in motion will laugh at their immobile pretensions. (Arsan 136)"
There was mention of the caveman drawings of Lascaux on page 156, and towards the end of the book there was a vivid description of what opium looks like. That's pretty much it.
Because I have an affinity for French culture, I gave this a one star rating. However, that is a generous one and I would advise against reading it.
When I thought that this novel couldn't get any worse, the entire story took a dreadful, Kafkaesque turn in describing the culture of the Muria people and the means with which they educated their children in the art of love. This section was part of a larger philosophical ranting that encompassed half of the book. Some of the theories were insightful and thought-provoking. However, Arsan's wording is redundant, and what took up one hundred pages could have easily been summarized in four or five. Her musings about the moral evolution of man were interesting, but substantially out of place and not suitable for a book of this genre.
I would like to save the next reader the trouble of searching for the good parts of this novel, so I am going to list them here for you;
1. When describing what beauty was, Mario stated, "If you try to make beauty eternal, it dies. What's beautiful is not what's bare, but what's baring itself. Not the sound of laughter, but the throat that's laughing. Not what's left on paper, but the moment when the artist's heart is being torn. (Arsan 114)"
2. When speaking of love and beauty, which Arsan ranted about for seventy pages or so, there was this useful quote, "It's because of love of beauty that the world will ultimately refuse to sit in the theater of illusion where the masqueraders of politics and revelations act out their shadow play with regal slowness. The universe in motion will laugh at their immobile pretensions. (Arsan 136)"
There was mention of the caveman drawings of Lascaux on page 156, and towards the end of the book there was a vivid description of what opium looks like. That's pretty much it.
Because I have an affinity for French culture, I gave this a one star rating. However, that is a generous one and I would advise against reading it.
January 29, 2019
Abominable! It's about as sexy as East Berlin in 1982.
December 12, 2010
Classic Smut review! Half erotic memoir and half philosophical treatise on eroticism, this book is a quasi-autobiographical account of Emmanuelle Arsan's(pen name of Marayat Rollet-Andriane) sexual adventures in Thailand as a diplomat's wife. Needless to say, their marriage defines the term 'open'. She has many lovers and she and them both expound incessantly on the nature of eroticism.
The sex scenes and most of the first half of this book are just great, with that subtle prose that one gets from a well translated smutty, French book. It's in the second half with the introduction of the character of Mario and his philosophical lectures on man over nature, love, eroticism and fulfillment where it really stops the reader cold. Mario comes off as a pretentious windbag who takes up a lot of pages. At the same time, it's fascinating to read as it's a great snapshot of the pop philosophy of the time and is so French and of the period. It was first published in the underground in the late 1950's, and was officially published in 1967. A must for any fan of classic smut.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the 1974 film based on the novel. Directed by Just Jaeckin and starring Dutch actress Sylvia Kristel in the titular role, it was a massive hit and singlehandedly created the demand for soft focus, high class, softcore films. Spawning two offical sequels and numerous knockoffs, most notably the "Black Emanuelle" films, which starred Eurasian beauty Laura Gemser, who in reality looked a lot more like Emmanuelle Arsan than Kristel. Notice the missing 'm' in the title, that was so they wouldn't be sued by the original film's producers.
After the box office success of the 70's, the first two films with Kristel became a late nite 80's cable mainstay and is where I first came into contact with the character. Even today, you can always find either an Emmanuelle film or one inspired by it on late at night on HBO or Cinemax. Although now, I don't have to watch them with one ear cocked for approaching parental footsteps!
The sex scenes and most of the first half of this book are just great, with that subtle prose that one gets from a well translated smutty, French book. It's in the second half with the introduction of the character of Mario and his philosophical lectures on man over nature, love, eroticism and fulfillment where it really stops the reader cold. Mario comes off as a pretentious windbag who takes up a lot of pages. At the same time, it's fascinating to read as it's a great snapshot of the pop philosophy of the time and is so French and of the period. It was first published in the underground in the late 1950's, and was officially published in 1967. A must for any fan of classic smut.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the 1974 film based on the novel. Directed by Just Jaeckin and starring Dutch actress Sylvia Kristel in the titular role, it was a massive hit and singlehandedly created the demand for soft focus, high class, softcore films. Spawning two offical sequels and numerous knockoffs, most notably the "Black Emanuelle" films, which starred Eurasian beauty Laura Gemser, who in reality looked a lot more like Emmanuelle Arsan than Kristel. Notice the missing 'm' in the title, that was so they wouldn't be sued by the original film's producers.
After the box office success of the 70's, the first two films with Kristel became a late nite 80's cable mainstay and is where I first came into contact with the character. Even today, you can always find either an Emmanuelle film or one inspired by it on late at night on HBO or Cinemax. Although now, I don't have to watch them with one ear cocked for approaching parental footsteps!
Read
March 31, 2022Curiosità e un po' di tempo da perdere sono stati i motori che mi hanno fatto decidere a spulciare questo libro che è stato un manifesto del libero erotismo nei ribelli, per certi aspetti rivoluzionari, anni 60 (con molti riverberi nel decennio successivo).
Da un lato, nella prima parte del racconto, vediamo l'incantevole fanciulla in fiore esprimere, seguendo l'infallibile istinto libertario, la sua innata predisposizione al piacere. Al celebre incipit dell'avventura in aereo (ricordate Sylvia Kristel, nell'omonimo film?) segue l'ambiente esotico di Bangkok che è anche quello dei bianchi (e bianche) ricchi e annoiati, dalle vaghe e improbabili occupazioni (lavoro?). Insomma: la cornice sensuale idealizzata per giustificare l'esposizione di giovani corpi alla programmatica declinazione del piacere.
Ma la seconda parte della storia è un trattato filosofico bello e buono (beh, non so quanto bello e quanto buono); si intitola La legge e, attraverso il personaggio di Mario, italiano colto e raffinato, ipotetico erede di un godereccio Rinascimento, il lettore apprende le regole dell'erotismo e sospende la sua pruderie fino al capitolo successivo che però risulta essere l'applicazione meticolosa (noiosa) delle leggi medesime.
La più importante delle quali risulta essere la seguente: " È tempo perduto tutto il tempo trascorso in altro modo che non sia l'arte di godere, tra braccia sempre più numerose". Beh, se vogliamo uno spunto per cominciare la nostra personale recherche...
Da un lato, nella prima parte del racconto, vediamo l'incantevole fanciulla in fiore esprimere, seguendo l'infallibile istinto libertario, la sua innata predisposizione al piacere. Al celebre incipit dell'avventura in aereo (ricordate Sylvia Kristel, nell'omonimo film?) segue l'ambiente esotico di Bangkok che è anche quello dei bianchi (e bianche) ricchi e annoiati, dalle vaghe e improbabili occupazioni (lavoro?). Insomma: la cornice sensuale idealizzata per giustificare l'esposizione di giovani corpi alla programmatica declinazione del piacere.
Ma la seconda parte della storia è un trattato filosofico bello e buono (beh, non so quanto bello e quanto buono); si intitola La legge e, attraverso il personaggio di Mario, italiano colto e raffinato, ipotetico erede di un godereccio Rinascimento, il lettore apprende le regole dell'erotismo e sospende la sua pruderie fino al capitolo successivo che però risulta essere l'applicazione meticolosa (noiosa) delle leggi medesime.
La più importante delle quali risulta essere la seguente: " È tempo perduto tutto il tempo trascorso in altro modo che non sia l'arte di godere, tra braccia sempre più numerose". Beh, se vogliamo uno spunto per cominciare la nostra personale recherche...
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 19, 2011
I read this as a teenage boy; not for the philosophical bits at the back!! Enough said.
July 27, 2024
wtf did i just read (i actually found the discussion on eroticism a bit intriguing at first but it dragged on for way too long, also the "smut" was mediocre at best.)
June 13, 2019
Esta cantidad de estrellas se las lleva porque he de admitir que he disfrutado inmensamente de la forma en como el libro esta escrito. De una manera preciosa, la autora (o el autor) nos muestra los pensamientos, sueños y deseos de una protagonista llena de sensasiones que esta dispuesta a experimentar y lleva acabo sus fantasías mas profundas. Normalmente, en la novela erotica siempre espero tener una trama que acompañe tanto disfrute, pero en este caso Emmanuelle nos muestra un viaje por el descubrimiento de una filosofia del placer de notables reveses, pero eso es todo. No hay mas trama que la descripción del goce de su cuerpo y mente. Eso no quita que sea un estupendo libro. Toda esta reflexion de la belleza me ha parecido hermosa y cala muy dentro del lector. Personalmente, me hubiese gustado hallar algo mas. Aun asi, recomiendo mucho su lectura, porque tiene gran cantidad de frases que se te quedan grabadas a fuego en la mente y los momentos sublimes descritos de manera provocativa te hacen entender porque esta novela causo tanto revuelo, alla por los años 50.
June 18, 2013
The beginning of the story promised to be something very good, but it turned out to be a plot extremely bored .. Mario's character could not be more boring with its pseudo philosophical considerations .. totally exaggerated and unnecessary, killing the story instead of the make it even more exciting and full of eroticism. What a disappointment!
January 9, 2011
Read it on a lark but was surprised to find that it was fairly good read for a small paperback erotica. Dealt a lot with hedonistic philosophy and poly ethics. I was impressed by how literate and engaging it was, having watched the spin off television series more than once.
foreign-lang-maybes
November 23, 2014To quote the husband of the woman who recommended this, I'm "reading it for the philosophy".
September 18, 2016
A lovely, lilting ode to sensuality; an exquisitely written mix of innocent exploration and intellectual understanding.
March 23, 2016
This was the first R-rated movie I saw as an under-age teenager escorting my brother. While it may have made an impression at that time, I certainly did not have any conversations with anyone to either explain or debrief about my experience. Now almost four decades later I read the book and come across the philosophy within it.
In some ways it scares me and in others I appreciate the liberation it offers. Ultimately I have to ask under whose guidance can such a philosophy be a liberation rather than a transfer of power from one oppression to another?
When I look back on my life’s experiences, and become evermore aware of the limitations I experienced at younger ages, I have to acknowledge that I did not receive guidance for most of it when I needed it. I was opened to false expectations by those who were equally irresponsible within their own lives as they were for what they introduced me to.
I say this, not out of condemnation but merely from the facts of the times: I was under-age when they were not. I was not expected to be able to process what others new to such experiences “as adults” were testing out for themselves. Some kind of appropriate guidance should have been given, some context against which I could have gained traction and understanding of my own.
I realise now that many of my own later failures came back to such irresponsibility of elders around me at such times. (surely this is what all the controversy around paedophilia is about?!)
Yet I have tried to guide others through new experiences with a more responsible attitude. Whether it be my own children or friends who I recognise as having gaps in their own experiences that need a gentler approach than their adult years may otherwise expect of them. Perhaps it is just such a realisation of the inadequacy of how I was respected by elders that makes me so sensitive to the needs of others. It certainly undermines our relationships in so many ways when morality can be so confronting and challenging, and yet we have at some stage in our lives to grapple with it and place the morality of others in some perspective to our own choices and standards.
So I read Emmanuelle now “as if it is a Manual” rather than just absorbing what impressions I could from the big screen in a small theatre. I consider the tales of a teenage friend seeing The Godfather as her first R-rated experience, and my comparative experience with a fellow female teenager seeing the double-bill of Easyrider and Stone, also R-rated at the university while we were still in high school.
I realise that I simply blocked out this earliest experience. Consciously at least.
I must have had conversations with others about it at times, when I look back on other experiences I shared with later boyfriends, but despite that there seem to have been influences at play upon me for some reactions I gave in particular situations I was otherwise unaware of in a consequential way.
I have to then conclude that part of my upbringing was in fact a male-dominated training ground to prepare me as being available to other males who may later ask certain behaviours of me.
My training as a child was largely based upon the “seen and not heard” dictum of Victorian times, yet it was also given doses of liberalisation by subsequent eras of laxity and challenge. The seesawing of these eras was not something I could openly identify. It was merely the expectation of my parents to not speak about certain things in mixed (meaning outside the family) company. But in a family that was very open to outsiders “as if they were family” such things as being in our house come mealtime, it was rather vague at times to understand how to draw such lines consistently.
Then there were such comments as that from my father: “three forbidden topics: sex, politics and religion, are the three topics we tended to talk about all the time among our friends when we were growing up”. Was it a challenge to us to contradict him or to any sense of authority in a world half collapsed by the early death of his own father when he was only 9?
Thus the dilemma of appropriate guidance.
(I could add a very private situation here about my husband, but being an ex-husband I cannot contact him for permission over such a disclosure – suffice to say it also relates to paedophilia, and the current Catholic crisis we keep hearing about in the media, though not within the walls of the institutions themselves – and it very much had consequences far beyond “the perpetrator/s”, yet not seeming to feed back to them in any direct way. But all of this experience is many years after the recounting I am doing here.)
so I say again: Thus the dilemma of appropriate guidance.
Who is the appropriate guide for any particular person at any particular age, if not the person who does introduce them or initiate them to a new understanding of the world?
I can’t say that school offered any better way of treating such topics than the vagaries of the people generally around at home, in “bedroom conversations” (given that the only space a child can consider its own is the bed on which it sleeps), or community groups such as Sunday school or activity clubs that were available at that time.
We all learn “together”. We bump into each other’s knowledge, prejudices and questions. We project our limitations more than our strengths, and this seems to be a growing fashion rather than a receding one.
There is no appropriate, only appropriation.
If you look too innocent someone will determine that you need to be taught “a lesson���. Whether you want it or not never seems to be the point.
And so we come to the book Emmanuelle.
In just such manner does Emmanuelle herself begin by opening herself up to new experience, and periodically questioning herself about how she is to find out what others intend if she does not allow them to present themselves to her fully.
She shifts gradually from not knowing what she doesn’t know, but at least appreciating that she will not know unless she allows herself to. Then she begins to limit the impositions others make upon her in their presumptions that she will repeat “lessons” that she merely considers behaviours once she has experienced them.
She also gradually shifts between her awareness of those who she feels might be able to teach her more and those who she doubts capable but somehow prove themselves to her in ways that she tests against her own boundaries of knowledge rather than just comfort.
In this way the book is presented as if it is all about learning and growing consciousness. But there is a failure to delineate between one’s own choices and the imposition of choices already made by others, though assumed to be a mutual opening in them as Emmanuelle helps them experience what they had not previously known. In this way it enters the territory of the unguided, the experimenter – as if such a space holds no dangers, should brook no fear (or caution, which may be a better consideration here).
It is just such territory that has proven to be inappropriate in so many educational and clerical situations between adults and children that now produces such outcries of abuse across society. Who is the appropriate guide when systems want to step in where people used to reside? What is the appropriate setting to find out what options are really being offered before you partake of them?
There can be no presumption that one approach fits all in such matters.
Throughout the book Emmanuelle is constantly fed by others as being somehow made for the role they expect her to fulfil for them, as much as on her own behalf or for her own edification or enjoyment. But how can a female, who is denied by her gender from membership, know that a comment such as “there is a freemasonry of beauty” has an answer such as the one she gives? She quotes an alternative source, thus showing her own prior education and applying it to this situation in such a way that surprises her erstwhile teacher.
Thus we can see that we are each prepared by our own experiences to walk the pathways that are our own, but we help forge them with each subsequent fellow-traveller. To reach the conclusion that all experience is open for all seems logical. It does not however, help us ward off experiences we would rather not have, encounters we would rather not be challenged by where others are determined to take undue advantage of our lesser knowledge or willingness to interpret the world in the ways they see fit.
It is not to say that anyone should necessarily be limited by the least in their limitations, but neither is it to say that “anything goes” for everyone.
Individual choice requires some guidance about how to say the rate of change that you are subjected to as much as which behaviours or experiences you would prefer to keep within specific circles, or not have for yourself at all.
As I said, one approach does not fit all. And indeed, the presumption of this book that one’s “beauty” as interpreted by others should require that certain people undertake particular ways of living that is denied or limited to others of less physical appeal, only underlines the projectionism of this methodology.
For people who are not constantly looking into mirrors, or indeed have no inclination to consider them as a means of considering their own perceptions of the world, to be bombarded by the designs of others to participate as if they were so driven is shere madness. There is no single rulebook, despite the sense of dictatorship that so many people seem to carry around within themselves.
To dictate permissiveness is as bad as dictating total abstention. The choices remain with the participants, but the testing out of situations is as much part of these choices, as the follow-through to any preconceived or yet to be conceived conclusions.
In particular I note the lack of personality of the “native” seconded in the final scene of the book. There is a sense in which this scene is a metaphor for the usurping of personal choice in colonialism which far surpasses the so-called freedoms of the other participants throughout this volume. We neither hear the negotiations nor the name of the native participant. Permission to participate is presumed to be upon an equally free footing. Preparation through his cultural upbringing surely raises questions around this just as I have raised my own issues of “initiation” in viewing such a movie with no possibility of knowing what I was opening myself up to.
The difference could be said that such a native does indeed know what to expect. But whether to conceive of such an expectation as abuse or respect surely remains another matter that cannot adequately be judged from such a work as this – unknown as it is to be autobiography or novel.
How can we even begin to understand the differentiation between metaphor and actual behaviours when intellectualism is testing out our imaginations in such a way?
In the Bible Jesus says: “to think is to do”. And so he defines sin as inappropriate thinking as much as inappropriate action. Buddhism likewise speaks of Right Thinking and Right Action as two parts of its eight-fold path.
While Emmanuelle is taught about dividing herself in apportioning her experiences to others, this is not given a context of then being a fuller person by knowing her own parts more intimately. It is left to a potentially inadequate audience to interpret such dividing and rearranging of one’s experiences as a precision of self-awareness rather than merely self-indulgence in partiality.
It is not the teaching alone that is a problem with regard this book, but the continual sense that so many limited people are likely to hold on to their own limitations as impositions on the ability of others to adequately interpret it for themselves.
Mastery is not the problem – rather belief in mastery by those who are a long way off it for themselves or appreciating it in others.
The dangers we currently face in society are based upon such clashes of righteousness. It seems less possible to know who one can trust for appropriate guidance than at previous times in our history. The ever-shifting ground between privacy and perverse privation tests many of us beyond legitimate capability for developing maturity in such matters. The context of this book, and therefore its quotes and references, is not so easily recognisable as it may have been within the society it was written for. And yet we might expect that the openness of the internet helps us overcome that remarkably easily.
The nature of the internet is such that to seek any particle of information is to open oneself to a swag of word-related trash on an astronomically geometric basis. What filters can we truly place to adjust our digestive systems for such potential bombardment? It is not an invitation I would want to put out into the ether without adequate consideration. There are too many deprived and depraved people that I would rather not have responsibility for teaching about the most intimate experiences I would like to be able to share with a single, or even a few, closely selected individuals of adequate self-development. The more I have been around such circles as consider themselves involved in self-development the more I have to consider the limitations of these spheres.
So I return again to the question: who is an appropriate guide? What is an appropriate setting? And I rest before making a conclusion that limits me to disappointment and dissatisfaction forever, which is another aspect of this work that I am wary of – to actually bear dissatisfaction as the motivating force to continue exploration.
I retain the right to feel adequate and appreciative from time to time. And currently am experiencing the longest period of just such satisfaction in my life.
In some ways it scares me and in others I appreciate the liberation it offers. Ultimately I have to ask under whose guidance can such a philosophy be a liberation rather than a transfer of power from one oppression to another?
When I look back on my life’s experiences, and become evermore aware of the limitations I experienced at younger ages, I have to acknowledge that I did not receive guidance for most of it when I needed it. I was opened to false expectations by those who were equally irresponsible within their own lives as they were for what they introduced me to.
I say this, not out of condemnation but merely from the facts of the times: I was under-age when they were not. I was not expected to be able to process what others new to such experiences “as adults” were testing out for themselves. Some kind of appropriate guidance should have been given, some context against which I could have gained traction and understanding of my own.
I realise now that many of my own later failures came back to such irresponsibility of elders around me at such times. (surely this is what all the controversy around paedophilia is about?!)
Yet I have tried to guide others through new experiences with a more responsible attitude. Whether it be my own children or friends who I recognise as having gaps in their own experiences that need a gentler approach than their adult years may otherwise expect of them. Perhaps it is just such a realisation of the inadequacy of how I was respected by elders that makes me so sensitive to the needs of others. It certainly undermines our relationships in so many ways when morality can be so confronting and challenging, and yet we have at some stage in our lives to grapple with it and place the morality of others in some perspective to our own choices and standards.
So I read Emmanuelle now “as if it is a Manual” rather than just absorbing what impressions I could from the big screen in a small theatre. I consider the tales of a teenage friend seeing The Godfather as her first R-rated experience, and my comparative experience with a fellow female teenager seeing the double-bill of Easyrider and Stone, also R-rated at the university while we were still in high school.
I realise that I simply blocked out this earliest experience. Consciously at least.
I must have had conversations with others about it at times, when I look back on other experiences I shared with later boyfriends, but despite that there seem to have been influences at play upon me for some reactions I gave in particular situations I was otherwise unaware of in a consequential way.
I have to then conclude that part of my upbringing was in fact a male-dominated training ground to prepare me as being available to other males who may later ask certain behaviours of me.
My training as a child was largely based upon the “seen and not heard” dictum of Victorian times, yet it was also given doses of liberalisation by subsequent eras of laxity and challenge. The seesawing of these eras was not something I could openly identify. It was merely the expectation of my parents to not speak about certain things in mixed (meaning outside the family) company. But in a family that was very open to outsiders “as if they were family” such things as being in our house come mealtime, it was rather vague at times to understand how to draw such lines consistently.
Then there were such comments as that from my father: “three forbidden topics: sex, politics and religion, are the three topics we tended to talk about all the time among our friends when we were growing up”. Was it a challenge to us to contradict him or to any sense of authority in a world half collapsed by the early death of his own father when he was only 9?
Thus the dilemma of appropriate guidance.
(I could add a very private situation here about my husband, but being an ex-husband I cannot contact him for permission over such a disclosure – suffice to say it also relates to paedophilia, and the current Catholic crisis we keep hearing about in the media, though not within the walls of the institutions themselves – and it very much had consequences far beyond “the perpetrator/s”, yet not seeming to feed back to them in any direct way. But all of this experience is many years after the recounting I am doing here.)
so I say again: Thus the dilemma of appropriate guidance.
Who is the appropriate guide for any particular person at any particular age, if not the person who does introduce them or initiate them to a new understanding of the world?
I can’t say that school offered any better way of treating such topics than the vagaries of the people generally around at home, in “bedroom conversations” (given that the only space a child can consider its own is the bed on which it sleeps), or community groups such as Sunday school or activity clubs that were available at that time.
We all learn “together”. We bump into each other’s knowledge, prejudices and questions. We project our limitations more than our strengths, and this seems to be a growing fashion rather than a receding one.
There is no appropriate, only appropriation.
If you look too innocent someone will determine that you need to be taught “a lesson���. Whether you want it or not never seems to be the point.
And so we come to the book Emmanuelle.
In just such manner does Emmanuelle herself begin by opening herself up to new experience, and periodically questioning herself about how she is to find out what others intend if she does not allow them to present themselves to her fully.
She shifts gradually from not knowing what she doesn’t know, but at least appreciating that she will not know unless she allows herself to. Then she begins to limit the impositions others make upon her in their presumptions that she will repeat “lessons” that she merely considers behaviours once she has experienced them.
She also gradually shifts between her awareness of those who she feels might be able to teach her more and those who she doubts capable but somehow prove themselves to her in ways that she tests against her own boundaries of knowledge rather than just comfort.
In this way the book is presented as if it is all about learning and growing consciousness. But there is a failure to delineate between one’s own choices and the imposition of choices already made by others, though assumed to be a mutual opening in them as Emmanuelle helps them experience what they had not previously known. In this way it enters the territory of the unguided, the experimenter – as if such a space holds no dangers, should brook no fear (or caution, which may be a better consideration here).
It is just such territory that has proven to be inappropriate in so many educational and clerical situations between adults and children that now produces such outcries of abuse across society. Who is the appropriate guide when systems want to step in where people used to reside? What is the appropriate setting to find out what options are really being offered before you partake of them?
There can be no presumption that one approach fits all in such matters.
Throughout the book Emmanuelle is constantly fed by others as being somehow made for the role they expect her to fulfil for them, as much as on her own behalf or for her own edification or enjoyment. But how can a female, who is denied by her gender from membership, know that a comment such as “there is a freemasonry of beauty” has an answer such as the one she gives? She quotes an alternative source, thus showing her own prior education and applying it to this situation in such a way that surprises her erstwhile teacher.
Thus we can see that we are each prepared by our own experiences to walk the pathways that are our own, but we help forge them with each subsequent fellow-traveller. To reach the conclusion that all experience is open for all seems logical. It does not however, help us ward off experiences we would rather not have, encounters we would rather not be challenged by where others are determined to take undue advantage of our lesser knowledge or willingness to interpret the world in the ways they see fit.
It is not to say that anyone should necessarily be limited by the least in their limitations, but neither is it to say that “anything goes” for everyone.
Individual choice requires some guidance about how to say the rate of change that you are subjected to as much as which behaviours or experiences you would prefer to keep within specific circles, or not have for yourself at all.
As I said, one approach does not fit all. And indeed, the presumption of this book that one’s “beauty” as interpreted by others should require that certain people undertake particular ways of living that is denied or limited to others of less physical appeal, only underlines the projectionism of this methodology.
For people who are not constantly looking into mirrors, or indeed have no inclination to consider them as a means of considering their own perceptions of the world, to be bombarded by the designs of others to participate as if they were so driven is shere madness. There is no single rulebook, despite the sense of dictatorship that so many people seem to carry around within themselves.
To dictate permissiveness is as bad as dictating total abstention. The choices remain with the participants, but the testing out of situations is as much part of these choices, as the follow-through to any preconceived or yet to be conceived conclusions.
In particular I note the lack of personality of the “native” seconded in the final scene of the book. There is a sense in which this scene is a metaphor for the usurping of personal choice in colonialism which far surpasses the so-called freedoms of the other participants throughout this volume. We neither hear the negotiations nor the name of the native participant. Permission to participate is presumed to be upon an equally free footing. Preparation through his cultural upbringing surely raises questions around this just as I have raised my own issues of “initiation” in viewing such a movie with no possibility of knowing what I was opening myself up to.
The difference could be said that such a native does indeed know what to expect. But whether to conceive of such an expectation as abuse or respect surely remains another matter that cannot adequately be judged from such a work as this – unknown as it is to be autobiography or novel.
How can we even begin to understand the differentiation between metaphor and actual behaviours when intellectualism is testing out our imaginations in such a way?
In the Bible Jesus says: “to think is to do”. And so he defines sin as inappropriate thinking as much as inappropriate action. Buddhism likewise speaks of Right Thinking and Right Action as two parts of its eight-fold path.
While Emmanuelle is taught about dividing herself in apportioning her experiences to others, this is not given a context of then being a fuller person by knowing her own parts more intimately. It is left to a potentially inadequate audience to interpret such dividing and rearranging of one’s experiences as a precision of self-awareness rather than merely self-indulgence in partiality.
It is not the teaching alone that is a problem with regard this book, but the continual sense that so many limited people are likely to hold on to their own limitations as impositions on the ability of others to adequately interpret it for themselves.
Mastery is not the problem – rather belief in mastery by those who are a long way off it for themselves or appreciating it in others.
The dangers we currently face in society are based upon such clashes of righteousness. It seems less possible to know who one can trust for appropriate guidance than at previous times in our history. The ever-shifting ground between privacy and perverse privation tests many of us beyond legitimate capability for developing maturity in such matters. The context of this book, and therefore its quotes and references, is not so easily recognisable as it may have been within the society it was written for. And yet we might expect that the openness of the internet helps us overcome that remarkably easily.
The nature of the internet is such that to seek any particle of information is to open oneself to a swag of word-related trash on an astronomically geometric basis. What filters can we truly place to adjust our digestive systems for such potential bombardment? It is not an invitation I would want to put out into the ether without adequate consideration. There are too many deprived and depraved people that I would rather not have responsibility for teaching about the most intimate experiences I would like to be able to share with a single, or even a few, closely selected individuals of adequate self-development. The more I have been around such circles as consider themselves involved in self-development the more I have to consider the limitations of these spheres.
So I return again to the question: who is an appropriate guide? What is an appropriate setting? And I rest before making a conclusion that limits me to disappointment and dissatisfaction forever, which is another aspect of this work that I am wary of – to actually bear dissatisfaction as the motivating force to continue exploration.
I retain the right to feel adequate and appreciative from time to time. And currently am experiencing the longest period of just such satisfaction in my life.
February 13, 2022
Моето петнайсетгодишно аз беше много по-впечатлено от книгата, отколкото от филмовите ѝ интерпретации. Въпреки, че Силвия Кристел доста я биваше. :)
Все пак, през деветдесетте годни на миналия век познанстото ни с порнографията и еротиката почти се изчерпваше с незаконно презаписани немски филми, из които потни бюргери и благоверните им оряха викайки "шнел, шнел" и "ох, майн гот".
"Еануела" е елегантен еротичен роман, заслужаващ внимание и днес.
Все пак, през деветдесетте годни на миналия век познанстото ни с порнографията и еротиката почти се изчерпваше с незаконно презаписани немски филми, из които потни бюргери и благоверните им оряха викайки "шнел, шнел" и "ох, майн гот".
"Еануела" е елегантен еротичен роман, заслужаващ внимание и днес.
November 21, 2021
“But as soon as someone kisses me,
I somehow, sorta, wanta kiss him back!
I'm jist a fool when lights are low
I cain't be prissy and quaint
I ain't the type that can faint
How c'n I be whut I ain't?
I cain't say no!
I Cain't Say No!-Rodgers And Hammerstein,Oklahoma
Leave it to the French to produce erotica that appeals to the prurient, but has about it an elegance that overlays sophisticated refinement. Emmanuel Arsan’s Autobiographical (?) book, Emmanuelle manages like fine French cuisine to have the animal attraction of mere food, topped off with a careful created sauce. Very definitely adult fare and one with some tolerance for some degree of kink. Trigger warning includes a possible underage, and very precocious female.
The basic plot is that a married French woman flies to Thailand to join her embassy related husband. From the plane ride on she gives herself to, pretty much anyone who happens want her. She indulges her sensual side while being very much a people pleaser. Her husband supports her adventuring as it coincides with his preference for what would later be called an open marriage. Towards the end there is a large dollop of sybaritic sexual philosophy. This intrusion seems to reflect the philosophy of the author, but one can be forgiven for ignoring it as no more than a complex set up for the complex finale.
About the author. Emmanuelle is still listed as the author of the book. This is not her real name. She is also not the author. It is generally accepted that her husband Louis-Jacques Rollet-Andriane wrote the book. It is just as likely that they wrote it together. The point being that she and her husband lived the mentioned sybaritic sexual philosophy.
Marayat Bibidh, Emmanuelle’s real name, also directed and starred in a movie known in English as Emmanuelle Forever, and she starred with Steve McQueen and Richard Attenborough in The Sand Pebbles.
I somehow, sorta, wanta kiss him back!
I'm jist a fool when lights are low
I cain't be prissy and quaint
I ain't the type that can faint
How c'n I be whut I ain't?
I cain't say no!
I Cain't Say No!-Rodgers And Hammerstein,Oklahoma
Leave it to the French to produce erotica that appeals to the prurient, but has about it an elegance that overlays sophisticated refinement. Emmanuel Arsan’s Autobiographical (?) book, Emmanuelle manages like fine French cuisine to have the animal attraction of mere food, topped off with a careful created sauce. Very definitely adult fare and one with some tolerance for some degree of kink. Trigger warning includes a possible underage, and very precocious female.
The basic plot is that a married French woman flies to Thailand to join her embassy related husband. From the plane ride on she gives herself to, pretty much anyone who happens want her. She indulges her sensual side while being very much a people pleaser. Her husband supports her adventuring as it coincides with his preference for what would later be called an open marriage. Towards the end there is a large dollop of sybaritic sexual philosophy. This intrusion seems to reflect the philosophy of the author, but one can be forgiven for ignoring it as no more than a complex set up for the complex finale.
About the author. Emmanuelle is still listed as the author of the book. This is not her real name. She is also not the author. It is generally accepted that her husband Louis-Jacques Rollet-Andriane wrote the book. It is just as likely that they wrote it together. The point being that she and her husband lived the mentioned sybaritic sexual philosophy.
Marayat Bibidh, Emmanuelle’s real name, also directed and starred in a movie known in English as Emmanuelle Forever, and she starred with Steve McQueen and Richard Attenborough in The Sand Pebbles.
November 3, 2024
Nooit geweten dat Emmanuelle een boekverfilming is. Ik vond een audioboek ingesproken door Sylvia Kristel 'herself' en dat was het interessantste aan het boek. Ze sprak het ooit in het Engels in en en af toe hoor je een grappig Nederlands accentje tussendoor. Mijn favoriete moment was nota bene bij een Frans woord: Eau de Cologne.
Voor de rest hoef je het niet te lezen/luisteren. De aaneenschakeling van erotische scenes is best saai. En op het eind wordt Emmanuelle ook nog eens gemansplaind over seks, liefde en het leven door haar minnaar.
Ik moest aan Emmanuelle denken, omdat ik een advertentie zag voor de nieuwe verfilming van het boek. Dus als je met rode oortjes en in de bioscoop wilt zitten... pak je kans ;)
Voor de rest hoef je het niet te lezen/luisteren. De aaneenschakeling van erotische scenes is best saai. En op het eind wordt Emmanuelle ook nog eens gemansplaind over seks, liefde en het leven door haar minnaar.
Ik moest aan Emmanuelle denken, omdat ik een advertentie zag voor de nieuwe verfilming van het boek. Dus als je met rode oortjes en in de bioscoop wilt zitten... pak je kans ;)
January 2, 2016
One of the first films I saw of an erotic nature was Emmanuelle. Certain scenes stayed with me afterwards. They were interesting scenes. Most of said scenes were not in this book. They might have been in a sequel, or I'm remembering things that occurred in a sequel film. I know there are more books, and more films.
There is something of a frustrating nature to this book. Emmanuelle is open to sex, to pleasure, to fooling around. And she's quite happy of that fact. While at the same time she's, to put it mildly, disgusted by the people she meets in Thailand who are opening obsessed with sex.
She's also, to an alarming degree, quite passive about sexual matters. And her likes and desires. The book opens with her flying from France, through England, to Thailand to meet up with her husband. Along the way she allows herself to be fondled by the passenger who was sitting next to her; and then to be fucked by him. It was all quite passive on her part. She was touched. She was excited by this. Or not, I'm not 100% certain. Then later she wanders the plane and a big strong man stops her and fucks her. She's again quite passive about it. I'm not even certain she wanted to be fucked right then and there but she was.
She's a kid who married young, to a man a lot older than her. Who pleased her parents. Quite frankly I'm not sure she was mentally mature enough for the activity that occurred, or for the type of husband she married.
Even so, I would probably have enjoyed the book if not for the introduction of a specific male character. He is described as a gay man. And someone Emmanuelle should fuck. That in and itself was weird, but no matter. The problem was that he was full of it. One of those people who picked up bullshit here and there and, to make matters horrible, loved to hear himself talk. He had made some, wrong, assumptions about Emmanuelle, and decided to 'educate' her and 'make her more mature'. Or something like that. I'm not exactly sure which category he thought she fell into, but did get it into his mind that she was sexually closed off, or something like that. I forget now, and frankly don't really care. Like, he asked a question, I forget what now, that Emmanuelle replied in such a manner that it was technically true and technically false. Something like if Emmanuelle had ever cheated on her husband, or something. I forget how things were worded. It has been a while since I read the book so I'm not certain if it is a situation where I kept expecting Emmanuelle to note that she had, in fact, fucked others and he was full of shit, or what. But, meh. Long and short of all that mumbling is that she wanted to fuck him, kept waiting for him to do so, so was putting up with his bullshit. But he would have preferred something else. Like having her fuck a duck and letting him watch, or something else absurd. I don't know, he disgusted me.
There is something of a frustrating nature to this book. Emmanuelle is open to sex, to pleasure, to fooling around. And she's quite happy of that fact. While at the same time she's, to put it mildly, disgusted by the people she meets in Thailand who are opening obsessed with sex.
She's also, to an alarming degree, quite passive about sexual matters. And her likes and desires. The book opens with her flying from France, through England, to Thailand to meet up with her husband. Along the way she allows herself to be fondled by the passenger who was sitting next to her; and then to be fucked by him. It was all quite passive on her part. She was touched. She was excited by this. Or not, I'm not 100% certain. Then later she wanders the plane and a big strong man stops her and fucks her. She's again quite passive about it. I'm not even certain she wanted to be fucked right then and there but she was.
She's a kid who married young, to a man a lot older than her. Who pleased her parents. Quite frankly I'm not sure she was mentally mature enough for the activity that occurred, or for the type of husband she married.
Even so, I would probably have enjoyed the book if not for the introduction of a specific male character. He is described as a gay man. And someone Emmanuelle should fuck. That in and itself was weird, but no matter. The problem was that he was full of it. One of those people who picked up bullshit here and there and, to make matters horrible, loved to hear himself talk. He had made some, wrong, assumptions about Emmanuelle, and decided to 'educate' her and 'make her more mature'. Or something like that. I'm not exactly sure which category he thought she fell into, but did get it into his mind that she was sexually closed off, or something like that. I forget now, and frankly don't really care. Like, he asked a question, I forget what now, that Emmanuelle replied in such a manner that it was technically true and technically false. Something like if Emmanuelle had ever cheated on her husband, or something. I forget how things were worded. It has been a while since I read the book so I'm not certain if it is a situation where I kept expecting Emmanuelle to note that she had, in fact, fucked others and he was full of shit, or what. But, meh. Long and short of all that mumbling is that she wanted to fuck him, kept waiting for him to do so, so was putting up with his bullshit. But he would have preferred something else. Like having her fuck a duck and letting him watch, or something else absurd. I don't know, he disgusted me.
April 11, 2009
The book is actually very well represented by the first movie with Sylvia Krystel. A little sex and pages of talky nonsense. Practically the entire last half of the book is the extended sequence where she is turned over to Mario for her sexual education, very much like in the Story of O. But in between the interminable and boring philosophical blather from Mario, the action becomes much more rapey and creepy than could possibly have been represented in the movie. In a strange way, even though the acts represented are much less kinky and not-at-all S&M-related, Emmanuelle steps over a comfort level more than Story of O because Emmanuelle is jacked up on drugs halfway through the Mario journey and after that point, it's not at all clear that she is consenting to any of the activities.
Maybe this is quite what the author was getting at. Maybe this is what her life experience was and I'm supposed to be uncomfortable. Don't know.
I ended up doing a play based on the script of the movie. The play very pointedly brings up the rapey aspects and questions them.
Maybe this is quite what the author was getting at. Maybe this is what her life experience was and I'm supposed to be uncomfortable. Don't know.
I ended up doing a play based on the script of the movie. The play very pointedly brings up the rapey aspects and questions them.
August 27, 2021
Emmanuelle è un libro piuttosto banale per chi è già anche leggermente avvezzo alla letteratura erotica. Tutto sembra già visto altrove se non qualche originale trovata, come ad esempio la fuga nei canali di Bangkok. L'erotismo della protagonista viene progressivamente educato alla sua piena consapevolezza da alcuni personaggi importanti o meno all'interno del romanzo, seguendo schemi più o meno consueti, e fin quando tutto verte sul piano pratico il libro può apparire ripetitivo ma raramente noioso. Ma la noia irrompe furiosamente al tentativo della scrittrice di presentare la sua teoria erotica attraverso il personaggio di Mario: pagine e pagine di velleità anche abbastanza pretenziose, trite e ritrite, persino a tratti contraddittorie, che non reggono assolutamente al confronto con i capolavori di questo genere letterario. Ed in effetti Emmanuelle non è assolutamente un capolavoro di genere, è un romanzetto a tratti carino nelle sue poche vene di originalità; nota di merito a favore della scrittrice, stilisticamente è invece molto elegante.
June 7, 2016
L'histoire insipide d'une fille insipide, dans un décor de rêve. L'auteure sait quand même utilisé les mots et faire de jolies tournures de phrase, mais c'est bien tout ce qui lui a valu la note de 2 étoiles.
Emmanuelle est une fille immature et niaise qui n'existe qu'à travers le regard des autres. Elle n'a pas de volonté propre ni d'autres qualités que sa beauté physique. Heureusement pour elle, grace à son amitié avec une fille de 13 ans et de Mario, un italien homosexuel, Emmanuelle apprendra qu'elle est sa vraie place dans le monde: jouet sexuel. C'est d'ailleurs la raison pour laquelle le mari d'Emmanuelle l'a épousé... Pour ses talents sexuels, évidemment. Puis, d'après les sages enseignements de Mario, il serait beaucoup trop dommage qu'un corps aussi beau ne soit pas à la disposition de tous.
Emmanuelle est une fille immature et niaise qui n'existe qu'à travers le regard des autres. Elle n'a pas de volonté propre ni d'autres qualités que sa beauté physique. Heureusement pour elle, grace à son amitié avec une fille de 13 ans et de Mario, un italien homosexuel, Emmanuelle apprendra qu'elle est sa vraie place dans le monde: jouet sexuel. C'est d'ailleurs la raison pour laquelle le mari d'Emmanuelle l'a épousé... Pour ses talents sexuels, évidemment. Puis, d'après les sages enseignements de Mario, il serait beaucoup trop dommage qu'un corps aussi beau ne soit pas à la disposition de tous.
September 17, 2011
Well, yes. The first "Emmanuelle" film, made in c. 1974. The very young Sylvia Kristel, with pixie-cut hair. Exotic settings--- Bangkok, the Concorde. Elegantly choreographed sex. Very, very hot. The novel...well, no less hot. Far too much talking, of course--- pages of tortured philosophising about pleasure and the joys of hedonism. But as erotica, some brilliantly powerful moments. All in all, erotica worth having in one's permanent collection.
October 12, 2014
This was the first erotic book I ever read and certainly left an impression. Beautifully written, it's an evocative novel using autobiographical narrative that portrays the adventures of Emmanuelle who, together with her husband, travels to Bangkok to further her sexual experiences. In my opinion this is a classic piece of erotica.
January 14, 2011
ประทับใจหนังสือเรื่องนี้มาก อ่านแล้วรู้สึกมองเห็นภาพได้ชัดเจน เคยเช่ามาอ่านจากระยอง เมื่อครั้งไปเที่ยว นานมากแล้ว อยากได้เก็บไว้เป็นหนังสือสะสม ใครที่พอจะทราบว่ามีหนังสือเรื่องนี้ที่แปลเป็นภาษาไทยแล้วภาษาไทย ขายที่ไหน ได้โปรดบอกให้ทราบด้วยนะคะ ขอบคุณมากค่ะ
August 14, 2014
You need to look past the shock value to find the literary genius in this one. I recommend holding out until the final pages which are filled with passages contemplating class, sex, and life itself in a magnificent manor.
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