Divine Filth is a collection of long-overlooked erotic prose and scatological fragments rivaled only by Georges Bataille's most well-known work, Story of the Eye , for pure "pornographic" content that transcends the limits of literature and the self. These are the shattered mystic visions of a seminal Surrealist with a deep thirst for the negation of consciousness through ecstasy, humiliation, depravity and pain.
French essayist, philosophical theorist, and novelist, often called the "metaphysician of evil." Bataille was interested in sex, death, degradation, and the power and potential of the obscene. He rejected traditional literature and considered that the ultimate aim of all intellectual, artistic, or religious activity should be the annihilation of the rational individual in a violent, transcendental act of communion. Roland Barthes, Julia Kristeva, and Philippe Sollers have all written enthusiastically about his work.
"This sucks," declares a protagonist in the short story that begins this concise anthology. Indeed, this translation does suck. Bataille's career-long struggle to transcend the limits of the written is simply aggravated in Spitzer's anglophilism. I would so love for a proper translation of these works, particularly the poetic fragments contained near its end. Georges's poetics are divine and hint perhaps best at his attempts to extricate himself from the void of the Self, of living as a Subject rather than as a thing-in-itself. However, the translated efforts come across as childish and fickle. For instance, no effort is made by the translator to underscore the nuances of Bataille's writing; eg. the French for pope is "pape", and juxtaposed by the word "papa." No note of this is made, but the play on words is clever and inscribes much more significance unto the poem in question.