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Isis
Here, presented in English in a long-belated translation by Brian Stableford, is Isis, the first novel of the acclaimed author of Contes cruels, Villiers de l’Isle-Adam. Deserving to be reckoned as one of the foundation-stones of Decadent prose fiction, redolent with echoes of Byron and Poe, reconfigured in the Baudelairean manner, and flamboyant with Gautieresque elements, this book is a tour de force of extravagant implication and esthetic dexterity: a work of peculiar genius.
In its vaulting ambitions, its quirky mannerisms, its philosophical posturing and its lush descriptions, Isis is certainly a tale given to excess, but that excess is the essence of the endeavor, the wand of its enchantment.
About the Author
Auguste de Villiers de l’Isle-Adam (1838-1889) inherited delusions of aristocracy from his father, who claimed, on highly dubious grounds, to be entitled to call himself Villiers de l’Isle-Adam and spent much of his life searching for the non-existent buried treasure of the Knights of Malta. He carried the imposture with him throughout his life, taking it with him into absurdity and abject poverty, but it doubtless helped to shore up his conviction that he was also a literary genus—which was, in fact, true, although the disorganization of his life limited the manifestations of the genius in question, the most important of which are the dramas Le Nouveau Monde (1880), Axël (published posthumously in 1890), the short story collection Contes cruels (1883), and the novel L’Ève future (1886). As is not unusual with literary geniuses, he received almost no reward while he was alive—hence the abject poverty—but he became world famous almost as soon as he was dead.
In its vaulting ambitions, its quirky mannerisms, its philosophical posturing and its lush descriptions, Isis is certainly a tale given to excess, but that excess is the essence of the endeavor, the wand of its enchantment.
About the Author
Auguste de Villiers de l’Isle-Adam (1838-1889) inherited delusions of aristocracy from his father, who claimed, on highly dubious grounds, to be entitled to call himself Villiers de l’Isle-Adam and spent much of his life searching for the non-existent buried treasure of the Knights of Malta. He carried the imposture with him throughout his life, taking it with him into absurdity and abject poverty, but it doubtless helped to shore up his conviction that he was also a literary genus—which was, in fact, true, although the disorganization of his life limited the manifestations of the genius in question, the most important of which are the dramas Le Nouveau Monde (1880), Axël (published posthumously in 1890), the short story collection Contes cruels (1883), and the novel L’Ève future (1886). As is not unusual with literary geniuses, he received almost no reward while he was alive—hence the abject poverty—but he became world famous almost as soon as he was dead.
- GenresFiction
181 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1862
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About the author
Auguste de Villiers de l'Isle-Adam
276 books96 followersJean-Marie-Mathias-Philippe-Auguste, comte de Villiers de l'Isle-Adam (7 November 1838 – 19 August 1889) was a French symbolist writer.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
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August 19, 2019Limited to 100 hardcover copies produced.
November 14, 2019
Better known for his conte-cruels, this is L'Isle-Adam's first novel, self-published in 1862 at the age of 24. It would appear to have been met with indifference.
Initially it would seem to have potential, I flipped it open and the first paragraph I read was written in a lush manner that made me think the book would be some glorious excess.
Whilst that is certainly true in some parts, Brian Stablefords introduction uses phrases that are potential warning lights for the reader. These are "philosophical novel" (could have long dull sections that stalls the plot), "feigns incompleteness" (could have no satisfactory ending or just poorly realised) , "fragmentary and inconsequential" (could be bitty and not really worth the effort).
Sadly, all this is true. Our hero (who is of course young, handsome, brave and very rich) is to meet the mysterious Tullia Fabriana (who is also young, stunningly beautiful, highly intelligent and, yes you've guessed! very very rich). Tullia is also a sort of diplomatic genius working behind the scenes to influence the great and the good as she is also some sort of occultist, as a (lengthy!) digression into her childhood reveals and a secret benefactor to the poor and needy, as a needless (but thankfully shorter) digression also points out. She lives in a heavily (and exotically fortified) palace with her loyal, beautiful (etc) servant Xoryl.
Our hero is given some (lengthy!) pep talk by an older male friend of Fabriana who basically says "be brave, dont be a dick and you are young and handsome so all will be well".
And thus it carries on. Everyone is very polite with the type of 'courtly talk' that extols everyones virtues in every sentence and bores me to tears.
I have to say that I almost gave up reading this novel at its utter tedium but, and its quite a big 'but', it was (very partially) redeemed by the excessive descriptive passages which are full of proto-decadent 'over the topness'. This is a duller example selected at random: "Xoryl was silent and had a liking for isolation. She took pleasure in dreaming in her room, lying on the carpet with her elbow on a cushion, following the smoke of a narghile with her gaze, through her long black eyelashes, like the sultanas of seraglio..."
If one can accept that this is more a book of descriptive passages and ignore the duller parts of the philosophising and not really care about a plot then its quite good silly fun but I couldn't and would much rather re-read 'Dorian Gray' or 'Against Nature'.
Whilst I applaud Snuggly and Brian Stableford for the sterling work they do in bringing authors back from the wilderness (or just making them available to the English reading world- the wonderful Jean Lorrain is a great case in point) this seems to be a book where the literary quality control was over-ridden by the 'historically important' element. Horses for (PhD?) courses...
Initially it would seem to have potential, I flipped it open and the first paragraph I read was written in a lush manner that made me think the book would be some glorious excess.
Whilst that is certainly true in some parts, Brian Stablefords introduction uses phrases that are potential warning lights for the reader. These are "philosophical novel" (could have long dull sections that stalls the plot), "feigns incompleteness" (could have no satisfactory ending or just poorly realised) , "fragmentary and inconsequential" (could be bitty and not really worth the effort).
Sadly, all this is true. Our hero (who is of course young, handsome, brave and very rich) is to meet the mysterious Tullia Fabriana (who is also young, stunningly beautiful, highly intelligent and, yes you've guessed! very very rich). Tullia is also a sort of diplomatic genius working behind the scenes to influence the great and the good as she is also some sort of occultist, as a (lengthy!) digression into her childhood reveals and a secret benefactor to the poor and needy, as a needless (but thankfully shorter) digression also points out. She lives in a heavily (and exotically fortified) palace with her loyal, beautiful (etc) servant Xoryl.
Our hero is given some (lengthy!) pep talk by an older male friend of Fabriana who basically says "be brave, dont be a dick and you are young and handsome so all will be well".
And thus it carries on. Everyone is very polite with the type of 'courtly talk' that extols everyones virtues in every sentence and bores me to tears.
I have to say that I almost gave up reading this novel at its utter tedium but, and its quite a big 'but', it was (very partially) redeemed by the excessive descriptive passages which are full of proto-decadent 'over the topness'. This is a duller example selected at random: "Xoryl was silent and had a liking for isolation. She took pleasure in dreaming in her room, lying on the carpet with her elbow on a cushion, following the smoke of a narghile with her gaze, through her long black eyelashes, like the sultanas of seraglio..."
If one can accept that this is more a book of descriptive passages and ignore the duller parts of the philosophising and not really care about a plot then its quite good silly fun but I couldn't and would much rather re-read 'Dorian Gray' or 'Against Nature'.
Whilst I applaud Snuggly and Brian Stableford for the sterling work they do in bringing authors back from the wilderness (or just making them available to the English reading world- the wonderful Jean Lorrain is a great case in point) this seems to be a book where the literary quality control was over-ridden by the 'historically important' element. Horses for (PhD?) courses...
April 4, 2023
You can't think of this so much as a novel as a charged moment. It could be a vignette if Villiers didn't go off on so many tangents. He's a great short story teller, but I get the sense he kind of loses himself in the telling of the longer form.
February 23, 2023
Assez bon, mais je crois qu'il faut déjà aimer Villiers de l'Isle-Adam pour apprécier Isis.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews