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Satiricon
Précurseur du "roman" (avec L'Âne d'or d'Apulée), le Satiricon, dont ne nous sont parvenus que de larges extraits et que le film de Fellini a contribué à populariser, est l'œuvre d'un auteur dont nous ne connaissons que la date de la mort (66 après J.C.). Il dut, semble-il, se suicider après avoir perdu l'estime de Néron, non sans avoir composé un libelle contre ses débauches.
Son narrateur est Eucolpe, qui va d'aventure en aventure dans une ville de la côte, accompagné de son ami Ascylte et de son esclave, le petit Giton (dont on connaît la postérité lexicale). Rejoints par le poète Eumolpe, ils embarquent et font naufrage près de Crotone. Trois temps forts rythment le récit : le repas de Trimalcion, la légende de la veuve d'Ephèse, le séjour à Crotone.
Aux bas-fonds et auberges mal famées arpentés par les déclassés, font écho les dévergondages de la haute société impériale, le tout raconté avec bonhomie, ironie ou parfois naïveté mais aussi parodie et persiflage.
C'est avec le Satiricon que, pour la première fois, un latin "vulgaire", parlé, accède au statut de langue écrite.
Le texte latin est celui établi en son temps par Alfred Ernout, soigneusement révisé par le traducteur, qui donne en annexe la liste et les raisons des variantes retenues.
Son narrateur est Eucolpe, qui va d'aventure en aventure dans une ville de la côte, accompagné de son ami Ascylte et de son esclave, le petit Giton (dont on connaît la postérité lexicale). Rejoints par le poète Eumolpe, ils embarquent et font naufrage près de Crotone. Trois temps forts rythment le récit : le repas de Trimalcion, la légende de la veuve d'Ephèse, le séjour à Crotone.
Aux bas-fonds et auberges mal famées arpentés par les déclassés, font écho les dévergondages de la haute société impériale, le tout raconté avec bonhomie, ironie ou parfois naïveté mais aussi parodie et persiflage.
C'est avec le Satiricon que, pour la première fois, un latin "vulgaire", parlé, accède au statut de langue écrite.
Le texte latin est celui établi en son temps par Alfred Ernout, soigneusement révisé par le traducteur, qui donne en annexe la liste et les raisons des variantes retenues.
318 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 60
591 people are currently reading
12113 people want to read
About the author
Petronius
274 books122 followersPeople credit Roman courtier Gaius Petronius, known as Petronius Arbiter, with writing the
Satyricon
.
People generally think that he during the reign of Nero Claudius Caesar, which began in 54, authored this satirical novel.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petronius
Alternative spellings for Petronius:
Brazilian Portuguese: Petrônio
French: Pétrone
Spanish: Petronio
Greek: Πετρώνιος
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petronius
People generally think that he during the reign of Nero Claudius Caesar, which began in 54, authored this satirical novel.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petronius
Alternative spellings for Petronius:
Brazilian Portuguese: Petrônio
French: Pétrone
Spanish: Petronio
Greek: Πετρώνιος
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petronius
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 673 reviews
October 19, 2012
Today, the Satyricon is most famous for two things:
1. For being (arguably) the first novel, and
2. For being a very, very dirty little book.
Unfortunately, only 141 chapters of a much longer work have survived. But those chapters are extremely compelling. Written during the reign of Nero in the 1st century, the Satyricon is quite simply unlike anything before it. Perhaps the best way to think about this book is to look at it like a little prose Odyssey. Except instead of the king of Ithaca, our hero is the ex-gladiator (and current scoundrel) Encolpius. And instead of trying to get home to a faithful wife after 10 years of war, the protagonist is concerned with getting free meals, tricking legacy hunters out of their money, and (most importantly) fixing his erectile dysfunction so he can get back to the business of pederasty. So I guess it’s not exactly like Homer.
It all ends up being very funny stuff, though. I don’t always have the taste for ancient comedy. Aristophanes is funny, but Menander/Terence/Plautus/etc. don’t do much for me. But listen to this:
Tryphaena’s cohorts, spurred on by the hysterical screaming of her maids, prepared to attack us with their bare hands. Only the pilot remained aloof, cursing the whole fracas as the lunatic work of a mob of perverts and threatening to abandon his post unless we stopped immediately. Even this dire threat, however, failed to quench our martial ardor...[s]uddenly, however, our gallant Giton turned the edge of his razor against his own manhood, threatening at one fell blow to lop away that root of all our troubles. Tryphaena, overcome with horror, cast all pretense aside and rushed forward to prevent the consummation of such a catastrophe.”
“The lunatic work of a mob of perverts” wouldn’t be a terrible subtitle to this book. Encolpius and Giton end up falling in with a self-anointed poet named Eumolpus. Eumolpus happens to be terrible, much to his distress and our amusement. Here is a typical response to one of his (many) poetic outbursts:
At this moment, several of the people who were strolling about the gallery greeted Eumolpus’ epic effusion with a volley of stones. Eumolpus, clearly no stranger to these tributes of his talent, wrapped his head in his robes and dashed from the temple. Fearing they might accuse me of being a poet too, I raced after him and caught him at the shore. “Look here,” I said, “can’t you rid yourself of this loathsome disease? I’ve been with you for less than two hours, but in all this time you’ve talked more like a Homer than a man. No wonder people pelt you with stones. In fact, I’m going to fill my pockets with stones right now, and every time you start spouting, I’ll bloody your head for you.”
The comedy is even funnier if you’ve read Homer or Virgil. Part of what makes the story so silly is when the characters compare their stupid, squalid problems with those of the epic heroes. Particularly, there are a number of direct parallels with the Odyssey: Encolpius calls himself Polyaenos at one point, he compares his inability to ‘get it up’ with the trials Poseidon imposed on Odysseus, at one point Giton has to cling to the underside of a bed like Odysseus clinging to the ram’s belly, etc. The group of lowlife scoundrels at the heart of the tale never fail to think of themselves and their ridiculous trials in heroic terms, which I found endlessly hilarious.
Aside from the comedy, this book is also interesting as a very frank look at the underbelly of Roman life in the first century. Very few books from antiquity really look at what life was life for the little people; the Satyricon provides a revealing, if comic, look at what it must have been like to live in the early Roman empire.
I read the Arrowsmith translation, which at 53 years old is almost a classic in its own right. But it doesn’t feel dated at all, and is justifiably the gold standard English translation. I thought about knocking a star or half star off because what’s left of the book is so fragmented, making the experience of reading it feel a bit incomplete. But what’s there is so entertaining that I’m giving it the whole five. This is the best post-Augustan Roman work I’ve read, and one of the very best Roman writings, period. 5 stars, highly recommended!
1. For being (arguably) the first novel, and
2. For being a very, very dirty little book.
Unfortunately, only 141 chapters of a much longer work have survived. But those chapters are extremely compelling. Written during the reign of Nero in the 1st century, the Satyricon is quite simply unlike anything before it. Perhaps the best way to think about this book is to look at it like a little prose Odyssey. Except instead of the king of Ithaca, our hero is the ex-gladiator (and current scoundrel) Encolpius. And instead of trying to get home to a faithful wife after 10 years of war, the protagonist is concerned with getting free meals, tricking legacy hunters out of their money, and (most importantly) fixing his erectile dysfunction so he can get back to the business of pederasty. So I guess it’s not exactly like Homer.
It all ends up being very funny stuff, though. I don’t always have the taste for ancient comedy. Aristophanes is funny, but Menander/Terence/Plautus/etc. don’t do much for me. But listen to this:
Tryphaena’s cohorts, spurred on by the hysterical screaming of her maids, prepared to attack us with their bare hands. Only the pilot remained aloof, cursing the whole fracas as the lunatic work of a mob of perverts and threatening to abandon his post unless we stopped immediately. Even this dire threat, however, failed to quench our martial ardor...[s]uddenly, however, our gallant Giton turned the edge of his razor against his own manhood, threatening at one fell blow to lop away that root of all our troubles. Tryphaena, overcome with horror, cast all pretense aside and rushed forward to prevent the consummation of such a catastrophe.”
“The lunatic work of a mob of perverts” wouldn’t be a terrible subtitle to this book. Encolpius and Giton end up falling in with a self-anointed poet named Eumolpus. Eumolpus happens to be terrible, much to his distress and our amusement. Here is a typical response to one of his (many) poetic outbursts:
At this moment, several of the people who were strolling about the gallery greeted Eumolpus’ epic effusion with a volley of stones. Eumolpus, clearly no stranger to these tributes of his talent, wrapped his head in his robes and dashed from the temple. Fearing they might accuse me of being a poet too, I raced after him and caught him at the shore. “Look here,” I said, “can’t you rid yourself of this loathsome disease? I’ve been with you for less than two hours, but in all this time you’ve talked more like a Homer than a man. No wonder people pelt you with stones. In fact, I’m going to fill my pockets with stones right now, and every time you start spouting, I’ll bloody your head for you.”
The comedy is even funnier if you’ve read Homer or Virgil. Part of what makes the story so silly is when the characters compare their stupid, squalid problems with those of the epic heroes. Particularly, there are a number of direct parallels with the Odyssey: Encolpius calls himself Polyaenos at one point, he compares his inability to ‘get it up’ with the trials Poseidon imposed on Odysseus, at one point Giton has to cling to the underside of a bed like Odysseus clinging to the ram’s belly, etc. The group of lowlife scoundrels at the heart of the tale never fail to think of themselves and their ridiculous trials in heroic terms, which I found endlessly hilarious.
Aside from the comedy, this book is also interesting as a very frank look at the underbelly of Roman life in the first century. Very few books from antiquity really look at what life was life for the little people; the Satyricon provides a revealing, if comic, look at what it must have been like to live in the early Roman empire.
I read the Arrowsmith translation, which at 53 years old is almost a classic in its own right. But it doesn’t feel dated at all, and is justifiably the gold standard English translation. I thought about knocking a star or half star off because what’s left of the book is so fragmented, making the experience of reading it feel a bit incomplete. But what’s there is so entertaining that I’m giving it the whole five. This is the best post-Augustan Roman work I’ve read, and one of the very best Roman writings, period. 5 stars, highly recommended!
July 23, 2013
First of all, I have to get something off my chest. In the profile for Petronius on GR somebody has written "Tacitus records that he was eventually forced to commit suicide after being embarrassed in front of Nero." This is what Tacitus actually wrote:
It is also evident from this quote that Petronius was no mere voluptuary. And does he manifest less character here than Cato did when he cut open his stomach with his own sword after the defeat at Utica and refused medical attention (an episode held up by many as being exemplary, but I digress)? Tacitus also informs us that while serving as governor of Bithynia and as consul, Petronius was "a capable and energetic administrator."
OK, I feel better now.
Finally, The Satyricon . I must echo what a GR friend has already written here: what a sadness the many lacunae in this text are! One can only hope that someone finds a complete copy in some mouldering crypt somewhere; after all, the butchered text upon which this translation is based was found only in 1663...
This book is funny, funny, funny, on so many different levels, some of which cannot be appreciated by the unwashed, non-Latin-reading, ignorant-of-most-Latin-literature drooling imbeciles... Oh, wait, that's me!! OK, but I can appreciate second hand, due to William Arrowsmith's scholarship, that Petronius wrote this book using many different styles and genres of Latin literature to heighten yet more the various kinds of irony at play here. An English reader must imagine a text in which Shakespearean prose is placed next to a rich and luscious paragraph by Virginia Woolf, placed next to a Spenserian stanza, placed next to a comedy bit by (insert your favorite standup comic), placed next to an orotund address by Gibbon, placed next to the mewling of a nearly speechless teenager (OK, maybe not the latter), with each style artfully chosen to make a particular point, to enrich the ironies... (By God, I'm almost tempted to disinter my high school Latin books!) Arrowsmith admits he can't do that; he can only tell us about it and try to translate some of it. And, of course, puns cannot be translated, and apparently The Satyricon is replete with them.
Alright, but much of the humor, satire and irony does come through, and what a treat it all is. All of the postmodern gurus about whose knees so many of the more sophisticated readers in GR are gathered should themselves sit at Petronius' feet quietly and listen carefully. And this satire and irony is by no means bitter or cutting (as opposed to so much of our contemporary literature); even the most ridiculed character (usually through his own words) is not reduced to some kind of symbol to be despised - Petronius, who was no moralizer, empathizes with each and lets them breathe.
What I would give to be able to go to Trimalchio's banquet!
And so Tigellinus, jealous of a rival whose expertise in the science of pleasure far surpassed his own, appealed to the emperor’s cruelty (Nero’s dominant passion) and accused Petronius of friendship with the conspirator Scaevinus. A slave was bribed to incriminate Petronius; no defense was permitted and most of the prisoner’s household was placed under arrest.
At the time the emperor was in Campania. Petronius had gone as far as Cumae when he was apprehended. The prospect of temporizing, with its attendant hopes and fears, seemed intolerable; equally he had no desire to dispatch himself hastily. So he severed his veins and then bound them up as the fancy took him, meanwhile conversing with his friends, not seriously or sadly or with ostentatious courage. And he listened while they talked and recited, not maxims on the immortality of the soul and philosophical reflections, but light and frivolous poetry. He then rewarded some of his slaves and assigned beatings to others. He dined and then dozed so that his death, even though compulsory, might still look natural. Nor did he adopt the conventional deathbed routine of flattering Nero, Tigellinus, and the other worthies. Instead, he wrote out a list of the emperor’s debaucheries, citing by name each of his sexual partners, male and female, with a catalogue of his sexual experiments, and sent it off to Nero under seal. He then destroyed his signet ring so that it could not be used later for the purpose of incriminating others.
It is also evident from this quote that Petronius was no mere voluptuary. And does he manifest less character here than Cato did when he cut open his stomach with his own sword after the defeat at Utica and refused medical attention (an episode held up by many as being exemplary, but I digress)? Tacitus also informs us that while serving as governor of Bithynia and as consul, Petronius was "a capable and energetic administrator."
OK, I feel better now.
Finally, The Satyricon . I must echo what a GR friend has already written here: what a sadness the many lacunae in this text are! One can only hope that someone finds a complete copy in some mouldering crypt somewhere; after all, the butchered text upon which this translation is based was found only in 1663...
This book is funny, funny, funny, on so many different levels, some of which cannot be appreciated by the unwashed, non-Latin-reading, ignorant-of-most-Latin-literature drooling imbeciles... Oh, wait, that's me!! OK, but I can appreciate second hand, due to William Arrowsmith's scholarship, that Petronius wrote this book using many different styles and genres of Latin literature to heighten yet more the various kinds of irony at play here. An English reader must imagine a text in which Shakespearean prose is placed next to a rich and luscious paragraph by Virginia Woolf, placed next to a Spenserian stanza, placed next to a comedy bit by (insert your favorite standup comic), placed next to an orotund address by Gibbon, placed next to the mewling of a nearly speechless teenager (OK, maybe not the latter), with each style artfully chosen to make a particular point, to enrich the ironies... (By God, I'm almost tempted to disinter my high school Latin books!) Arrowsmith admits he can't do that; he can only tell us about it and try to translate some of it. And, of course, puns cannot be translated, and apparently The Satyricon is replete with them.
Alright, but much of the humor, satire and irony does come through, and what a treat it all is. All of the postmodern gurus about whose knees so many of the more sophisticated readers in GR are gathered should themselves sit at Petronius' feet quietly and listen carefully. And this satire and irony is by no means bitter or cutting (as opposed to so much of our contemporary literature); even the most ridiculed character (usually through his own words) is not reduced to some kind of symbol to be despised - Petronius, who was no moralizer, empathizes with each and lets them breathe.
What I would give to be able to go to Trimalchio's banquet!
October 29, 2011
The ancient pagans, as we all know, loved big dicks and anything that symbolized them, such as Priapus, the well-endowed fertility god.
And so, many centuries later, it might have come as a shock to proper Christian bakers and the families that enjoyed their kneaded hot-cross buns at table if someone had told them that they were basically biting into a nice, warm, firm big dick.
Let me try to explain. You see, over time the Christians managed to wheedle, cajole, beat, burn or use whatever means necessary to de-paganize and convert the heathens, which included a requirement that they give up on silly old gods like Priapus. After all, there really was only one God, and if any god was going to be allowed to be attributed big dick status, it was Him. But the pagans, while acceding to give up the other gods, remained fond of ole Priapus and were resistant to forsaking him and his promise of tumescence. They didn't have Viagra or Levitra to fall back on back in the day. Priapus was it, baby; he was all they had, apart from allegedly magical aphrodisiacal potions of spit and insect mush slathered on the forehead by old witches, and that foul stuff was hardly a turn-on. And besides, the Christian God seemed awfully gunshy about sex, even with his mixed messages of being fruitful and multiplying. They liked their sex, those pagans, and they liked their sex god. No reason to rock the boat or deflate the sails, at it were. And they liked baking long phallic loaves of bread in honor of him. Deciding to use honey rather than a stinger, the Christians hit upon a compromise: the phallic loaves honoring Priapus could be kept as long as they were blessed with a Christian cross carved into them. Thus, the hot cross bun was born, and so too was the hand-off of the big baton from Priapus to God Almighty.
I bring all this up, in part, to provide a fascinating anecdote for you increasingly demanding Goodreads review mavens to chew on, but also to note how often Priapus is invoked in Petronius' masterwork, The Satyricon. The above facts about Priapus and his conversion into hot cross buns are, not surprisingly, not taught very much--nay, I vouchsafe, never--in Sunday school, nor is The Satyricon taught often enough in high schools. I think if it were, instead of, say, The Iliad and Odyssey or The Scarlet Letter, a continuing interest in literature might be planted in otherwise idling and distracted young minds.
There was a time, a few generations ago, when the Satyricon was kind of a hush-hush thing. If you could find it at all, it was probably in a limited edition, expensive leather-bound cover latched on both sides by a strap and a bronze lock and secured inside an impenetrable oaken cabinet in the off-limits environs of a respectable, well-to-do gentleman's smoking den. Even as late as 1930, when the Allinson translation was published, this was still classed as "erotica."
And, indeed, this 2000-year-old romp is very very dirty stuff. Not really explicit, per se, but filled with delightful debaucheries unsuitable to delicate sensibilities. To say it is not politically correct would be an understatement. The Romans had very different ideas about sex; in many ways they were much freer. And so by the time this opus is over we've seen our lower-class protagonist scamps in many states of un-toga-ness, enjoying much boy love (along with the occasional woman or girl). At one point, when Priapus fails to raise the wilted member of our lively young anti-hero, Encolpius, an old witch tries to cure his impotence with an herbal-laced leather dildo shoved up his ass.
He and an old lecher poet companion, Eumolpus, think nothing of enjoying the favors of the children of Philomela, who pimps out her kids whenever she thinks the patrons are rich (in the case of Encolpius and Eumolpus, they're not; they're just big liars and thieves who go from place to place trying to evade the law and their wake of angry victims; that is, when they're not fighting among each other and their companions in jealous boy-love rages over the favors of the fair 16-year-old Giton). The characters fight and fart and fuck. And when they fart, the characters laugh. Mel Brooks and Beavis and Butthead would have felt right at home.
So, yes, it's that kind of book. It's the Iliad and Odyssey of illicit and ornery. The Candide of cock. The Don Quixote of dong. The Canterbury Tales of tail.
It's all in the grand Western literary tradition of the great journey. Like Voltaire's Candide the action is fleet, the forward motion is sweeping; fortunes change quickly, up and down; the situations are outrageous, comical, bawdy and raucous. Hot passions, animus and temporal alliances wax and wane at the drop of a toga, which is often. Luckily, deus ex machina are always ever present whenever a new story wrinkle or an escape is needed.
It proceeds with an almost naive, wide-eyed sense of good humor. After reading it, I wondered how Fellini in 1969 could have made such a dour movie out of this breezy concoction. I think the Italian master director kind of missed the point.
Several chapters are devoted to describing an amazing multi-course feast hosted by a foolish egotistical bourgeosie named Trimalchio. It has to rank as one of the marvels of literature and historical insight. The kinds of things people used to eat and the ways in which the dishes and attendant frivolities were served to impress guests is inherently fascinating to me.
Along the way there also are lovely ruminations on mortality, art, and love as well as prescient portents about the fate of the empire (not just of Rome, but of later ones, eg. the USA).
The book is episodic, to be sure, and I felt like I could probably read it backwards without there being much difference. What we have of The Satyricon is a surviving fragment, perhaps as little as 1/5th of the original book. But what we do have is golden, though admittedly it probably works best in Latin, dependent as most of us are on translations of varying quality. As a literary read, I give it three stars; as an invaluable record from antiquity I give it five. I split the difference...
I think there might be one quote in the book that sums up its ethos:
"So much better does it profit a man to train his member than his mind!"
------
A few more favorites include:
"I knew not whether I was the more incensed with the boy for having robbed me of my mistress, or with my mistress for debauching the boy."
"You never saw so unfortunate a fellow; soaked leather, that's what his tool is!"
"On hearing this, Oenothea sat down between us, and after shaking her head awhile, "I am the only woman," she said, "knows how to cure this complaint. And that you may not think I'm doing at random, I require the young fellow to sleep one night with me, and see if I don't make it stiff as horn!
"I was still deploring the stranger's fate, as I supposed him to be, when the swell heaved the face, still quite undisfigured, towards the beach, and I recognized the features of Lichas, my erstwhile enemy, so formidable and implacable a foe, now cast helpless almost at my feet. I could restrain my tears no longer, but smiting my breast again and again, "Where is your anger now," I exclaimed, "and all your domineering ways? There you lie, a prey to the fishes and monsters of the deep; you who so short a while ago proudly boasted your despotic powers, have never a plank left of your great ship. Go to, mortals; swell your hearts with high-flown anticipations. Go to, ye men of craft; arrange the disposal for a thousand years to come of the wealth you have got by fraud. Why! only yesterday this dead man here cast up the accounts of his fortune, and actually fixed in his own mind the day, when he should return to his native shore. Ye Gods! how far away he lies from the point he hoped to reach. Nor is it the sea alone that disappoints men's hopes like this. The warrior is betrayed by his arms; the householder in the act of paying his offerings to heaven is overwhelmed in the ruin of his own penates. One is thrown from his car, and breathes his last hurried breath; the glutton dies of an over-hearty meal, the frugal man of fasting. Reckon it aright, and there is shipwreck everywhere. But then a drowned man misses burial, you object. As if it made one scrap of difference how the perishable body is consumed,--by fire, by water, or by time. Do what you will, these all end in the same result."
"Many are the victims, my young friends," he began, "poetry has seduced! The instant a man has got a verse to stand on its feet and clothed a tender thought in appropriate language, he thinks he has scaled Helicon right off. Many others, after long practice of forensic talents, finally retreat to the tranquil calm of verse-making as to a blessed harbor of refuge, imagining a poem is easier put together than an argument all embroidered with scintillating conceits. But a mind of nobler inspiration is revolted by this flippancy; and no intellect that is not flooded with a mighty tide of learning, can either conceive or bring to birth a worthy poetic child. "
"Nor less in Mars's Field Corruption swayed,
Where every vote was prostitute to gain;
The People and the Senate both were sold.
E'en Age itself was deaf to Virtue's voice,
And all its court to sordid interest paid,
Beneath whose feet lay trampled Majesty.
E'en Cato's self was by the crowd exiled,
Whilst he who won suffused with blushes stood,
Ashamed to snatch the power from worthier hands.
Oh! shame to Rome and to the Roman name!
'Twas not one man alone whom they exiled,
But banished Virtue, Fame and Freedom too.
Thus wretched Rome her own destruction bought,
Herself the merchant, and herself the ware.
Besides, in debt was the whole Empire bound,
A prey to Usury's insatiate jaws;
Not one could call his house, or self, his own;
But debts on debts like silent fevers wrought,
Till through the members they the vitals seized."
And so, many centuries later, it might have come as a shock to proper Christian bakers and the families that enjoyed their kneaded hot-cross buns at table if someone had told them that they were basically biting into a nice, warm, firm big dick.
Let me try to explain. You see, over time the Christians managed to wheedle, cajole, beat, burn or use whatever means necessary to de-paganize and convert the heathens, which included a requirement that they give up on silly old gods like Priapus. After all, there really was only one God, and if any god was going to be allowed to be attributed big dick status, it was Him. But the pagans, while acceding to give up the other gods, remained fond of ole Priapus and were resistant to forsaking him and his promise of tumescence. They didn't have Viagra or Levitra to fall back on back in the day. Priapus was it, baby; he was all they had, apart from allegedly magical aphrodisiacal potions of spit and insect mush slathered on the forehead by old witches, and that foul stuff was hardly a turn-on. And besides, the Christian God seemed awfully gunshy about sex, even with his mixed messages of being fruitful and multiplying. They liked their sex, those pagans, and they liked their sex god. No reason to rock the boat or deflate the sails, at it were. And they liked baking long phallic loaves of bread in honor of him. Deciding to use honey rather than a stinger, the Christians hit upon a compromise: the phallic loaves honoring Priapus could be kept as long as they were blessed with a Christian cross carved into them. Thus, the hot cross bun was born, and so too was the hand-off of the big baton from Priapus to God Almighty.
I bring all this up, in part, to provide a fascinating anecdote for you increasingly demanding Goodreads review mavens to chew on, but also to note how often Priapus is invoked in Petronius' masterwork, The Satyricon. The above facts about Priapus and his conversion into hot cross buns are, not surprisingly, not taught very much--nay, I vouchsafe, never--in Sunday school, nor is The Satyricon taught often enough in high schools. I think if it were, instead of, say, The Iliad and Odyssey or The Scarlet Letter, a continuing interest in literature might be planted in otherwise idling and distracted young minds.
There was a time, a few generations ago, when the Satyricon was kind of a hush-hush thing. If you could find it at all, it was probably in a limited edition, expensive leather-bound cover latched on both sides by a strap and a bronze lock and secured inside an impenetrable oaken cabinet in the off-limits environs of a respectable, well-to-do gentleman's smoking den. Even as late as 1930, when the Allinson translation was published, this was still classed as "erotica."
And, indeed, this 2000-year-old romp is very very dirty stuff. Not really explicit, per se, but filled with delightful debaucheries unsuitable to delicate sensibilities. To say it is not politically correct would be an understatement. The Romans had very different ideas about sex; in many ways they were much freer. And so by the time this opus is over we've seen our lower-class protagonist scamps in many states of un-toga-ness, enjoying much boy love (along with the occasional woman or girl). At one point, when Priapus fails to raise the wilted member of our lively young anti-hero, Encolpius, an old witch tries to cure his impotence with an herbal-laced leather dildo shoved up his ass.
He and an old lecher poet companion, Eumolpus, think nothing of enjoying the favors of the children of Philomela, who pimps out her kids whenever she thinks the patrons are rich (in the case of Encolpius and Eumolpus, they're not; they're just big liars and thieves who go from place to place trying to evade the law and their wake of angry victims; that is, when they're not fighting among each other and their companions in jealous boy-love rages over the favors of the fair 16-year-old Giton). The characters fight and fart and fuck. And when they fart, the characters laugh. Mel Brooks and Beavis and Butthead would have felt right at home.
So, yes, it's that kind of book. It's the Iliad and Odyssey of illicit and ornery. The Candide of cock. The Don Quixote of dong. The Canterbury Tales of tail.
It's all in the grand Western literary tradition of the great journey. Like Voltaire's Candide the action is fleet, the forward motion is sweeping; fortunes change quickly, up and down; the situations are outrageous, comical, bawdy and raucous. Hot passions, animus and temporal alliances wax and wane at the drop of a toga, which is often. Luckily, deus ex machina are always ever present whenever a new story wrinkle or an escape is needed.
It proceeds with an almost naive, wide-eyed sense of good humor. After reading it, I wondered how Fellini in 1969 could have made such a dour movie out of this breezy concoction. I think the Italian master director kind of missed the point.
Several chapters are devoted to describing an amazing multi-course feast hosted by a foolish egotistical bourgeosie named Trimalchio. It has to rank as one of the marvels of literature and historical insight. The kinds of things people used to eat and the ways in which the dishes and attendant frivolities were served to impress guests is inherently fascinating to me.
Along the way there also are lovely ruminations on mortality, art, and love as well as prescient portents about the fate of the empire (not just of Rome, but of later ones, eg. the USA).
The book is episodic, to be sure, and I felt like I could probably read it backwards without there being much difference. What we have of The Satyricon is a surviving fragment, perhaps as little as 1/5th of the original book. But what we do have is golden, though admittedly it probably works best in Latin, dependent as most of us are on translations of varying quality. As a literary read, I give it three stars; as an invaluable record from antiquity I give it five. I split the difference...
I think there might be one quote in the book that sums up its ethos:
"So much better does it profit a man to train his member than his mind!"
------
A few more favorites include:
"I knew not whether I was the more incensed with the boy for having robbed me of my mistress, or with my mistress for debauching the boy."
"You never saw so unfortunate a fellow; soaked leather, that's what his tool is!"
"On hearing this, Oenothea sat down between us, and after shaking her head awhile, "I am the only woman," she said, "knows how to cure this complaint. And that you may not think I'm doing at random, I require the young fellow to sleep one night with me, and see if I don't make it stiff as horn!
"I was still deploring the stranger's fate, as I supposed him to be, when the swell heaved the face, still quite undisfigured, towards the beach, and I recognized the features of Lichas, my erstwhile enemy, so formidable and implacable a foe, now cast helpless almost at my feet. I could restrain my tears no longer, but smiting my breast again and again, "Where is your anger now," I exclaimed, "and all your domineering ways? There you lie, a prey to the fishes and monsters of the deep; you who so short a while ago proudly boasted your despotic powers, have never a plank left of your great ship. Go to, mortals; swell your hearts with high-flown anticipations. Go to, ye men of craft; arrange the disposal for a thousand years to come of the wealth you have got by fraud. Why! only yesterday this dead man here cast up the accounts of his fortune, and actually fixed in his own mind the day, when he should return to his native shore. Ye Gods! how far away he lies from the point he hoped to reach. Nor is it the sea alone that disappoints men's hopes like this. The warrior is betrayed by his arms; the householder in the act of paying his offerings to heaven is overwhelmed in the ruin of his own penates. One is thrown from his car, and breathes his last hurried breath; the glutton dies of an over-hearty meal, the frugal man of fasting. Reckon it aright, and there is shipwreck everywhere. But then a drowned man misses burial, you object. As if it made one scrap of difference how the perishable body is consumed,--by fire, by water, or by time. Do what you will, these all end in the same result."
"Many are the victims, my young friends," he began, "poetry has seduced! The instant a man has got a verse to stand on its feet and clothed a tender thought in appropriate language, he thinks he has scaled Helicon right off. Many others, after long practice of forensic talents, finally retreat to the tranquil calm of verse-making as to a blessed harbor of refuge, imagining a poem is easier put together than an argument all embroidered with scintillating conceits. But a mind of nobler inspiration is revolted by this flippancy; and no intellect that is not flooded with a mighty tide of learning, can either conceive or bring to birth a worthy poetic child. "
"Nor less in Mars's Field Corruption swayed,
Where every vote was prostitute to gain;
The People and the Senate both were sold.
E'en Age itself was deaf to Virtue's voice,
And all its court to sordid interest paid,
Beneath whose feet lay trampled Majesty.
E'en Cato's self was by the crowd exiled,
Whilst he who won suffused with blushes stood,
Ashamed to snatch the power from worthier hands.
Oh! shame to Rome and to the Roman name!
'Twas not one man alone whom they exiled,
But banished Virtue, Fame and Freedom too.
Thus wretched Rome her own destruction bought,
Herself the merchant, and herself the ware.
Besides, in debt was the whole Empire bound,
A prey to Usury's insatiate jaws;
Not one could call his house, or self, his own;
But debts on debts like silent fevers wrought,
Till through the members they the vitals seized."
October 7, 2020
"Ningún hombre en la tierra puede mirar las cosas prohibidas como tú lo has hecho y escapar del castigo. Especialmente aquí, una tierra tan infestada de divinidad que uno podría encontrar a un dios más fácilmente que a un hombre."
El "Satiricón" es considerada por muchos la primer novela de la historia. En cierto modo es más un prototipo narrativo de una novela que una novela en sí, por más que tenga cierto hilo argumental que es roto por la inclusión desmedida de textos apócrifos cuya intención, según se cree, fue la de generar cierta cohesión en la historia que en este libro se cuenta.
Atribuida a Petronio (o Gaius Petronius Arbiter), que vivió entre los años 14 y 66 y llamado por sus pares el "árbitro de la elegancia", nos deja como legado el "Satiricón", que es un fiel reflejo de la vida disoluta y disipada del personaje Encolpio y de su amigo y amante Asciltio y a su vez, del amante de Asciltio, el joven Giton, quienes se entregan a los desenfrenos de los placeres sexuales y las aventuras eróticas con otros hombres, entre ellos el poderoso Trimalción, que ofrece un extraordinario banquete al que concurren.
Las anécdotas con las que nos vamos encontrando revelan el tanto contenido sexual para la época pero también nos da una idea del grado de libertad que se vivía en Roma por aquellos años; libertad devenida en libertinaje que como no podía ser de otra manera, tuvo su punto máximo de descontrol en emperadores romanos como Calígula o Nerón.
Narrado entre un latín vulgar y con toques de vuelo poético en otros pasajes, el "Satiricón" nos anticipa en cierto modo lo que el Marqués de Sade escribirá posteriormente entres los siglos XVII y XIX y que horrorizara a sus contemporáneos.
El "Satiricón" también nos deja tres historias dentro de la principal en la que Encolpio vive una especie de "Odisea" (de hecho tiene un encuentro con Circe"), ya que el personaje referencia en repetidas veces a Ulises y a otros héroes y dioses griegos, independientemente de ser una narración latina.
Lamentablemente, la introducción de tanto texto apócrifo (que en mi edición se encuentra escrito en itálica), queriendo generar conexión con los textos que dejó Petronio logra desvirtuar bastante la naturaleza de este libro, uno de los grandes legados que dejó para la literatura Petronio, junto con Ovidio, Virgilio y tantos otros próceres latinos.
El "Satiricón" es considerada por muchos la primer novela de la historia. En cierto modo es más un prototipo narrativo de una novela que una novela en sí, por más que tenga cierto hilo argumental que es roto por la inclusión desmedida de textos apócrifos cuya intención, según se cree, fue la de generar cierta cohesión en la historia que en este libro se cuenta.
Atribuida a Petronio (o Gaius Petronius Arbiter), que vivió entre los años 14 y 66 y llamado por sus pares el "árbitro de la elegancia", nos deja como legado el "Satiricón", que es un fiel reflejo de la vida disoluta y disipada del personaje Encolpio y de su amigo y amante Asciltio y a su vez, del amante de Asciltio, el joven Giton, quienes se entregan a los desenfrenos de los placeres sexuales y las aventuras eróticas con otros hombres, entre ellos el poderoso Trimalción, que ofrece un extraordinario banquete al que concurren.
Las anécdotas con las que nos vamos encontrando revelan el tanto contenido sexual para la época pero también nos da una idea del grado de libertad que se vivía en Roma por aquellos años; libertad devenida en libertinaje que como no podía ser de otra manera, tuvo su punto máximo de descontrol en emperadores romanos como Calígula o Nerón.
Narrado entre un latín vulgar y con toques de vuelo poético en otros pasajes, el "Satiricón" nos anticipa en cierto modo lo que el Marqués de Sade escribirá posteriormente entres los siglos XVII y XIX y que horrorizara a sus contemporáneos.
El "Satiricón" también nos deja tres historias dentro de la principal en la que Encolpio vive una especie de "Odisea" (de hecho tiene un encuentro con Circe"), ya que el personaje referencia en repetidas veces a Ulises y a otros héroes y dioses griegos, independientemente de ser una narración latina.
Lamentablemente, la introducción de tanto texto apócrifo (que en mi edición se encuentra escrito en itálica), queriendo generar conexión con los textos que dejó Petronio logra desvirtuar bastante la naturaleza de este libro, uno de los grandes legados que dejó para la literatura Petronio, junto con Ovidio, Virgilio y tantos otros próceres latinos.
October 14, 2018
For the longest time, I always wished we had the missing books of the Annals. Reading all these fragmentary or incomplete sources nothing could trump my desire to see what Tacitus had to say about Caligula. Today, I add another source I wish was more complete: the Satyricon. It was so frustrating reading this and having such great leaps in the story due to how fragmentary parts are. I felt keenly interested in reading more about the bumbling Encolpius and his misadventures.
The Satyricon is by far the most bizarre piece I have ever read from the Roman world.
This piece is profoundly sexual, perhaps the most sexual I have read from the Roman world (so far).
More than any other Roman work I have read, I felt that I could not fully appreciate the piece because it was in translation. The editor attempted and did help alleviate lost in translation meaning, but I could not shake the feeling that I was missing otherwise important elements. Sexual jokes can be funny regardless of language, but the poetry, puns, and witticisms did not impact me as much as they should have. This is especially the case for the Civil War poem. While we are told that this is a poor rendition of Lucan, it cannot be fully appreciated in English.
Oh well, just another reason to keep learning Latin.
The Satyricon is by far the most bizarre piece I have ever read from the Roman world.
This piece is profoundly sexual, perhaps the most sexual I have read from the Roman world (so far).
More than any other Roman work I have read, I felt that I could not fully appreciate the piece because it was in translation. The editor attempted and did help alleviate lost in translation meaning, but I could not shake the feeling that I was missing otherwise important elements. Sexual jokes can be funny regardless of language, but the poetry, puns, and witticisms did not impact me as much as they should have. This is especially the case for the Civil War poem. While we are told that this is a poor rendition of Lucan, it cannot be fully appreciated in English.
Oh well, just another reason to keep learning Latin.
July 6, 2019
A collection of fragments alleged to be the first novel in Western literature.
A farcical mixbag of daily life and cant, with poetry, parodies and pastiches, and don't forget a good coating of saucy and nonsensical episodes. The feast at Trimalchio's has to give you the giggles :D
------------------------
Le Satiricon a la réputation de premier roman de l'histoire littéraire occidentale.
Au menu :
- épisodes burlesques
- une bonne dose d'étrangeté pour les yeux des lecteurs du 21e siècle : par moments, le Satiricon paraît parfois proche de nous, et à d'autres moments, sans l'appareil critique et ses notes on perd pied.
- une prose entrecoupée de petits poèmes et de lacunes dans le texte, qui laissent l'impression d'entractes dans un roman pastoral.
- une salade de sacré et de profane, de pensées élevés et d'épisodes quotidiens, de bavardages et de discours comminatoires sur les valeurs contemporaines, de prose et de poésie, de merveilleux et de bouffon.
- Rumeurs, bavardages, flatteries, discussions sur les valeurs contemporaines,
Un épisode ressort entre les lacunes : le festin chez Trimalchion ; chez Trimalchion, c'est une mise en scène de tous les instants. Trimalchion, ancien esclave, est le prototype de l'affranchi fat, artificiel, hâbleur et cabotin émérite :
'"(...)Et maintenant Homère raconte comment les Troyens et les Parentins se font la guerre. Naturellement, c'est Agamemnon qui fut vainqueur, et il maria sa fille à Achille. C'est pourquoi Ajax est fou, et tout de suite, il va vous en donner la preuve." Après ces mots de Trimalchion les Homéristes poussèrent un grand cri et, au milieu des valets courant de tous côtés, on servit un veau bouili placé sur un plat de deux cent livres, et le veau avait un casque sur la tête. Ajax venait derrière et, tirant l'épée, comme s'il était fou, se mit à taillader le veau; puis, après avoir fait avec son arme des passes en tous sens, il prit les morceaux sur la pointe et, à notre grand émerveillement, nous distribua la viande.
Nous n'eûmes pas longtemps la possibilité d'admirer d'aussi beaux tours d'adresse; car, tout d'un coup, le plafond se mit à résonner et toute la salle à manger vibra. Pris de panique, je me levai, craignant que, par le toit, ne descendit quelque équilibriste. Non moins étonnés, les autres convives levèrent la tête, dans l'attente de la nouveauté que leur annonçait le ciel. Et voici que les caissons s'entrouvrent soudain et que l'on voit descendre un grand cercle apparemment enlevé à quelque énorme cuve : tout autour étaient accrochées des couronnes d'or avec des alabastres de parfum.'
A farcical mixbag of daily life and cant, with poetry, parodies and pastiches, and don't forget a good coating of saucy and nonsensical episodes. The feast at Trimalchio's has to give you the giggles :D
------------------------
Le Satiricon a la réputation de premier roman de l'histoire littéraire occidentale.
Au menu :
- épisodes burlesques
- une bonne dose d'étrangeté pour les yeux des lecteurs du 21e siècle : par moments, le Satiricon paraît parfois proche de nous, et à d'autres moments, sans l'appareil critique et ses notes on perd pied.
- une prose entrecoupée de petits poèmes et de lacunes dans le texte, qui laissent l'impression d'entractes dans un roman pastoral.
- une salade de sacré et de profane, de pensées élevés et d'épisodes quotidiens, de bavardages et de discours comminatoires sur les valeurs contemporaines, de prose et de poésie, de merveilleux et de bouffon.
- Rumeurs, bavardages, flatteries, discussions sur les valeurs contemporaines,
Un épisode ressort entre les lacunes : le festin chez Trimalchion ; chez Trimalchion, c'est une mise en scène de tous les instants. Trimalchion, ancien esclave, est le prototype de l'affranchi fat, artificiel, hâbleur et cabotin émérite :
'"(...)Et maintenant Homère raconte comment les Troyens et les Parentins se font la guerre. Naturellement, c'est Agamemnon qui fut vainqueur, et il maria sa fille à Achille. C'est pourquoi Ajax est fou, et tout de suite, il va vous en donner la preuve." Après ces mots de Trimalchion les Homéristes poussèrent un grand cri et, au milieu des valets courant de tous côtés, on servit un veau bouili placé sur un plat de deux cent livres, et le veau avait un casque sur la tête. Ajax venait derrière et, tirant l'épée, comme s'il était fou, se mit à taillader le veau; puis, après avoir fait avec son arme des passes en tous sens, il prit les morceaux sur la pointe et, à notre grand émerveillement, nous distribua la viande.
Nous n'eûmes pas longtemps la possibilité d'admirer d'aussi beaux tours d'adresse; car, tout d'un coup, le plafond se mit à résonner et toute la salle à manger vibra. Pris de panique, je me levai, craignant que, par le toit, ne descendit quelque équilibriste. Non moins étonnés, les autres convives levèrent la tête, dans l'attente de la nouveauté que leur annonçait le ciel. Et voici que les caissons s'entrouvrent soudain et que l'on voit descendre un grand cercle apparemment enlevé à quelque énorme cuve : tout autour étaient accrochées des couronnes d'or avec des alabastres de parfum.'
August 30, 2014
The Satiricon is a novel that is sure to please communists and sexual deviants in that it combines a dizzying sequence of unnatural sexual acts with a rigorous analysis of the class structure of Rome at the time of Nero written by a contemporary.
The Satiricon is simply hilarious. It describes the picaresque journey of the sexually amphibious Encolpe through Roman Society. The reader is presented with a delightful collection of rogues including long-winded poets, underhanded sodomites, rich vulgarians, lewd women and pompous pedants finishing with a cannibalistic dinner. All in all the Satiricon is more fun than the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
In the introduction to the edition of the Satiricon that I read the great novelist and playwright Henri de Montherlant brilliantly describes the work in this way:
" Le Satiricon est, par sa date, le père du roman latin, ... et le père du roman tout court. Il est aussi, et de beacoup, le plus réussi des romans grecs et latins; par sa drolerie, son invention toujours rebondissante, la peinture vivace des caractères et des moeurs et son style qui est croustillant sans etre grossier. ... Et cela flatte mon patriotism que Pétrone ait été natif de Marseille."
"The Satiricon is the father of the Latin novel and in fact the father of the novel itself. It is by far the best novel of the classical era by its humour, rebounding inventiveness, and its vivacious portrait of characters and morals. It is risqué but never crude. I am proud as a Frenchman to note that Petronius was a native of Marseille."
The Satiricon is simply hilarious. It describes the picaresque journey of the sexually amphibious Encolpe through Roman Society. The reader is presented with a delightful collection of rogues including long-winded poets, underhanded sodomites, rich vulgarians, lewd women and pompous pedants finishing with a cannibalistic dinner. All in all the Satiricon is more fun than the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
In the introduction to the edition of the Satiricon that I read the great novelist and playwright Henri de Montherlant brilliantly describes the work in this way:
" Le Satiricon est, par sa date, le père du roman latin, ... et le père du roman tout court. Il est aussi, et de beacoup, le plus réussi des romans grecs et latins; par sa drolerie, son invention toujours rebondissante, la peinture vivace des caractères et des moeurs et son style qui est croustillant sans etre grossier. ... Et cela flatte mon patriotism que Pétrone ait été natif de Marseille."
"The Satiricon is the father of the Latin novel and in fact the father of the novel itself. It is by far the best novel of the classical era by its humour, rebounding inventiveness, and its vivacious portrait of characters and morals. It is risqué but never crude. I am proud as a Frenchman to note that Petronius was a native of Marseille."
May 3, 2021
Petronius' Satyrica more than lives up to its bawdy reputation. Those ancient pagans sure were a riot, let me tell you. Sadly, due to its fragmentary nature (only two books have survived), it fails in ever truly making the reader - well, this one at least - care about the actual story. As a series of vignettes it sort of works, but not as a novel.
Furthermore, this particular translator (Folio Society edition) I feel was too liberal in his approach. The many modern references (the United Nations, really?), slang language ("fly", the adjective), kept pulling me out of the story. Guess that makes me a purist. Gorgeous presentation and illustrations, though. Just wished for a different translation.
Furthermore, this particular translator (Folio Society edition) I feel was too liberal in his approach. The many modern references (the United Nations, really?), slang language ("fly", the adjective), kept pulling me out of the story. Guess that makes me a purist. Gorgeous presentation and illustrations, though. Just wished for a different translation.
January 6, 2026
I don’t need God to be good
God fills those who follow with a terrible fear, they lose all their good cheer
He is the ultimate freaking hood, but He will never get under my hood
But I am good at being lewd and supplying dude food woo hoo
Am I a disgrace? Who will put me in my place?
There is nowhere for me to go but straight to Hell from the heart
My kind of time and place really, all about food, wine, sex, flowers, music, jokes and Art
Free from the bounds of the pursuing Christian hounds and their hypocritical sounds
So, ring the bell which cannot be un-rung when I burn it all down on my countdown
I live in a world of evil clowns and nasty hounds
So why not go down to Hell and burst in on my lover boy and create joy as His she-devil toy
*
But the more I know the less I go and know that I must let it all go
The more I see the less I want to be, he, he
I will be brave when it comes to my grave
I will come back as the ultimate succubus of crafty misdeeds
With my wandering eye, I will spy my next ‘good’ guy
Spread the thighs and giggle the booty of a clingy body
This all to better offer the temptation of tantalizing nibble of tasty-sweet meat
...but they must go through the gateway of hair that is all still down there, this is fair, no?
Then continue with the ditty dance to shake the cuties with the added nipple ripple
Just the cure for dear Encolpius, fellow bawdy poet, where therapist Oenothea failed
Then he will remember to no longer curse his main member
Then he can remember to introduce me to the new male member of the club
If not the quad triple sweet meet, booty giggle, ditty dance, nipple ripple, then:
My torrent of words is the cure for my dear
The text is my secret backup cure for the perplexed and equally undersexed
But once cured will it all become a bore as it always was before?
*
Tired as I am, I sigh through carefully curated ignorance and shared delusions
But how long will fate let me play? We all end up with feet of clay
The faith of the many in the fake is thus secure
They make all other joys in life joyless and dull
I have found that the truth of the situation equals isolation
Life is full of surprises but at least there no Goof God who rules for the skies
But reality is my call, it is the source of all mortality as well as my sexuality
The fine sixty-nine is how I maintain the line, I guess this is my true crime?
God fills those who follow with a terrible fear, they lose all their good cheer
He is the ultimate freaking hood, but He will never get under my hood
But I am good at being lewd and supplying dude food woo hoo
Am I a disgrace? Who will put me in my place?
There is nowhere for me to go but straight to Hell from the heart
My kind of time and place really, all about food, wine, sex, flowers, music, jokes and Art
Free from the bounds of the pursuing Christian hounds and their hypocritical sounds
So, ring the bell which cannot be un-rung when I burn it all down on my countdown
I live in a world of evil clowns and nasty hounds
So why not go down to Hell and burst in on my lover boy and create joy as His she-devil toy
*
But the more I know the less I go and know that I must let it all go
The more I see the less I want to be, he, he
I will be brave when it comes to my grave
I will come back as the ultimate succubus of crafty misdeeds
With my wandering eye, I will spy my next ‘good’ guy
Spread the thighs and giggle the booty of a clingy body
This all to better offer the temptation of tantalizing nibble of tasty-sweet meat
...but they must go through the gateway of hair that is all still down there, this is fair, no?
Then continue with the ditty dance to shake the cuties with the added nipple ripple
Just the cure for dear Encolpius, fellow bawdy poet, where therapist Oenothea failed
Then he will remember to no longer curse his main member
Then he can remember to introduce me to the new male member of the club
If not the quad triple sweet meet, booty giggle, ditty dance, nipple ripple, then:
My torrent of words is the cure for my dear
The text is my secret backup cure for the perplexed and equally undersexed
But once cured will it all become a bore as it always was before?
*
Tired as I am, I sigh through carefully curated ignorance and shared delusions
But how long will fate let me play? We all end up with feet of clay
The faith of the many in the fake is thus secure
They make all other joys in life joyless and dull
I have found that the truth of the situation equals isolation
Life is full of surprises but at least there no Goof God who rules for the skies
But reality is my call, it is the source of all mortality as well as my sexuality
The fine sixty-nine is how I maintain the line, I guess this is my true crime?
September 13, 2022
I do not understand people who say this book makes them uncomfortable. Be grateful that these manuscripts were unearthed and still exist. The first few pages have two men fighting over a catamite. Eventually, they decide to share him. I read this around 2006-07 in Mumbai. I had seen the Fellini film a long time ago.
There is no real plot or anything. It is just a bunch of fragments with characters . The modern interpretation seems to be that this book is a warning against the excessive debauchery of the Roman empire which lead to its decline.
It was erotic. The movie was quite sexy too. That is all I want to say. It did not make me uncomfortable. I live in India.
There is no real plot or anything. It is just a bunch of fragments with characters . The modern interpretation seems to be that this book is a warning against the excessive debauchery of the Roman empire which lead to its decline.
It was erotic. The movie was quite sexy too. That is all I want to say. It did not make me uncomfortable. I live in India.
May 25, 2015
Um relato sobre a vida no Império Romano - escrito há quase dois mil - composto por alguns episódios de banquetes e de aventuras (e desventuras) sexuais, que têm a sua piada pelo insólito da situação. Muita comida, muita libertinagem e um final estranho.
Não o apreciei, ou porque me falte formação académica para o compreender, ou um gosto mais apurado por História. Não creio ser um livro para o leitor comum.
Não o apreciei, ou porque me falte formação académica para o compreender, ou um gosto mais apurado por História. Não creio ser um livro para o leitor comum.
January 2, 2016
Potrei parlare di questo "romanzo" (il perché delle virgolette lo scoprirete tra poco) in moltissimi modi, con diversi approcci, da quello di perversa e stramba lettrice a quella di seria e ansiosa (per la verifica su questo) studentessa del classico.
Quest'opera deve essere conosciuta per essere apprezzata, soprattutto perché è in gran parte lacunosa e frammentaria , soprattutto alla fine. (Si, maledetto cliffhanger!).
Appartiene probabilmente al primo secolo dopo Cristo e forse, non si sa per certo, venne scritta da Petronio, arbiter elegantiae. (Se non sfoggio il mio latino non sono felice.).
Questo Petronio era il mio tipo d'uomo: epicureo, stravagante, distaccato e gran signore.
Per darvi un esempio concreto, si suicidò per evitare la condanna dell'imperatore, che sospettava avesse fatto parte della congiura dei Pisoni contro di lui, tagliandosi le vene e lasciandole subito dopo, in modo da potersi godere il banchetto a cui aveva invitato i suoi amici per gossippare e recitar poesie. Inoltre mandò a Nerone il suo testamento contenente tutti i nomi dei vari patners, di entrambi i sessi, e gli esperimenti sessuali dell'imperatore.
Ganzo, vero?
L'opera non è meno stravagante di lui: scritta in prosimetro(misto prosa e versi) attinge da tutta la letteratura antica senza però appartenere a nessun genere.
Si ispira alla satira menippea, al mimo, alla commedia, al "romanzo" greco, alle fabulae milesiae, parodizza la tragedia e l'epica.
Insomma, un raffinato pastiche, come dice il mio libro.
Lo stile è versatilissimo, raggiunge tutte le tonalità possibili e immaginabili, tende a mettersi in antitesi con le situazioni di cui narra (stile alto-situazione bassa, stile basso-situazione alta), è fluido e veloce.
La lingua è uno strumento efficacissimo per caratterizzare i personaggi e l'uso di colloquialismi, volgarismi ed espressioni idiomatiche rende il libro un gioiello.
Purtroppo la storia è tronca, si pensa che i frammenti trovati componessero il quindicesimo e sedicesimo libro, mentre la storia probabilmente era composta da 24; eppure si comprende subito la trama, un'Odissea di pitocchi, si simpatizza per quel povero disgraziato di Encolpio, che, tra amanti infedeli e vendicativi, naufragi, impotenze, tradimenti degli amici, non sa più dove sbattere la testa.
Tutti gli altri personaggi, che si alternano in una girandola teatrale, sono perfettamente caratterizzati e riconoscibili.
Il viaggio diventa un mezzo con cui venire a contatto con la realtà delle classi più umili ma anche con quella vera di tutte le altre.
Questa non è l'antichità dei marmi del Partenone, è l'antichità dei pidocchi sotto il materasso, dei lupanari, delle sacerdotesse vogliose, dei liberti volgari con aspirazioni nobiliari.
Insomma, la reale realtà.
La vicenda è divertente, scabrosa, irriverente e ironica. Petronio non guarda in faccia nessuno, non rispetta alcun "Catone" che vorrebbe far passare sotto silenzio i propri vizietti, che non vuole riconoscere la decadenza della società e dei rapporti umani. È orgoglioso di essere capace di accettare ciò in cui è dentro, che è parte di lui.
Certo, ci sono certe scene che possono essere definite morbose, agghiaccianti per il nostro gusto moderno.
Ma credo che sia ipocrita distogliere lo sguardo da tutto questo e ipocriticamente schermarsi affermando che non succede nulla di questo e che non abbiamo sotto gli occhi tutti i giorni qualcosa di peggio.
Ultima cosa: leggetevelo. Anche solo per vantarvi in giro di essere sopravvissuti a una lettura del genere.
Se non si può fare una cosa del genere, che senso ha essere lettori?;)
P.s: il "romanzo" greco in realtà non aveva nome nell'antichità, quindi chiamarlo in questo modo è accettato ma non corretto
Quest'opera deve essere conosciuta per essere apprezzata, soprattutto perché è in gran parte lacunosa e frammentaria , soprattutto alla fine. (Si, maledetto cliffhanger!).
Appartiene probabilmente al primo secolo dopo Cristo e forse, non si sa per certo, venne scritta da Petronio, arbiter elegantiae. (Se non sfoggio il mio latino non sono felice.).
Questo Petronio era il mio tipo d'uomo: epicureo, stravagante, distaccato e gran signore.
Per darvi un esempio concreto, si suicidò per evitare la condanna dell'imperatore, che sospettava avesse fatto parte della congiura dei Pisoni contro di lui, tagliandosi le vene e lasciandole subito dopo, in modo da potersi godere il banchetto a cui aveva invitato i suoi amici per gossippare e recitar poesie. Inoltre mandò a Nerone il suo testamento contenente tutti i nomi dei vari patners, di entrambi i sessi, e gli esperimenti sessuali dell'imperatore.
Ganzo, vero?
L'opera non è meno stravagante di lui: scritta in prosimetro(misto prosa e versi) attinge da tutta la letteratura antica senza però appartenere a nessun genere.
Si ispira alla satira menippea, al mimo, alla commedia, al "romanzo" greco, alle fabulae milesiae, parodizza la tragedia e l'epica.
Insomma, un raffinato pastiche, come dice il mio libro.
Lo stile è versatilissimo, raggiunge tutte le tonalità possibili e immaginabili, tende a mettersi in antitesi con le situazioni di cui narra (stile alto-situazione bassa, stile basso-situazione alta), è fluido e veloce.
La lingua è uno strumento efficacissimo per caratterizzare i personaggi e l'uso di colloquialismi, volgarismi ed espressioni idiomatiche rende il libro un gioiello.
Purtroppo la storia è tronca, si pensa che i frammenti trovati componessero il quindicesimo e sedicesimo libro, mentre la storia probabilmente era composta da 24; eppure si comprende subito la trama, un'Odissea di pitocchi, si simpatizza per quel povero disgraziato di Encolpio, che, tra amanti infedeli e vendicativi, naufragi, impotenze, tradimenti degli amici, non sa più dove sbattere la testa.
Tutti gli altri personaggi, che si alternano in una girandola teatrale, sono perfettamente caratterizzati e riconoscibili.
Il viaggio diventa un mezzo con cui venire a contatto con la realtà delle classi più umili ma anche con quella vera di tutte le altre.
Questa non è l'antichità dei marmi del Partenone, è l'antichità dei pidocchi sotto il materasso, dei lupanari, delle sacerdotesse vogliose, dei liberti volgari con aspirazioni nobiliari.
Insomma, la reale realtà.
La vicenda è divertente, scabrosa, irriverente e ironica. Petronio non guarda in faccia nessuno, non rispetta alcun "Catone" che vorrebbe far passare sotto silenzio i propri vizietti, che non vuole riconoscere la decadenza della società e dei rapporti umani. È orgoglioso di essere capace di accettare ciò in cui è dentro, che è parte di lui.
Certo, ci sono certe scene che possono essere definite morbose, agghiaccianti per il nostro gusto moderno.
Ma credo che sia ipocrita distogliere lo sguardo da tutto questo e ipocriticamente schermarsi affermando che non succede nulla di questo e che non abbiamo sotto gli occhi tutti i giorni qualcosa di peggio.
Ultima cosa: leggetevelo. Anche solo per vantarvi in giro di essere sopravvissuti a una lettura del genere.
Se non si può fare una cosa del genere, che senso ha essere lettori?;)
P.s: il "romanzo" greco in realtà non aveva nome nell'antichità, quindi chiamarlo in questo modo è accettato ma non corretto
April 7, 2021
"Si uno, enemigo de todos los vicios, decide seguir el camino recto de la vida, concita el odio en primer lugar por su diferente moralidad. Pues, ¿quién es capaz de dar su aprobación al que se comporta de un modo distinto al suyo? Además, los que sólo se preocupan por acumular riquezas, pretenden que nada en el mundo sea considerado mejor que lo que ellos mismos tienen. Por este motivo, intentan denigrar por todos los medios posibles a los amantes de las letras, para demostrar que también ellos son esclavos del dinero."
La pieza latina más gamberra e irreverente de todas las que llevo leídas. Una novela picaresca que sigue los pasos de Encolpio y su esclavo y amante Gitón, dando rienda suelta a su lujuria, gula y codicia a medida que van conociendo a diversos personajes de los bajos fondos del imperio romano en la época de Nerón. Un vistazo de excepción a la vida popular y a las relaciones homosexuales en aquella época. Es una pena que nos haya llegado incompleta, pero los fragmentos que se conservan son estupendos, en especial la larga e influyente cena de Trimalción.
La pieza latina más gamberra e irreverente de todas las que llevo leídas. Una novela picaresca que sigue los pasos de Encolpio y su esclavo y amante Gitón, dando rienda suelta a su lujuria, gula y codicia a medida que van conociendo a diversos personajes de los bajos fondos del imperio romano en la época de Nerón. Un vistazo de excepción a la vida popular y a las relaciones homosexuales en aquella época. Es una pena que nos haya llegado incompleta, pero los fragmentos que se conservan son estupendos, en especial la larga e influyente cena de Trimalción.
June 24, 2020
Ya tenía ganas de echarle mano a este famoso volumen.
Los orígenes son oscuros, aunque la autoría se atribuye a Petronio. Cortesano de Nerón y designado por este árbitro de la elegancia, luego pudo haber sido condenado por haber participado en alguna conjura contra el emperador (¿la pisoniana?)
La lectura es interesante sólo desde el punto de vista de la "arqueología literaria". El texto da cuenta de comidas y bebidas en los banquetes, decoraciones de viviendas, aspectos de la picaresca y los bajos fondos, costumbres sexuales, etc. Veremos cómo se bebía hasta la embriaguez, cómo se realizaba un hechizo o de qué forma se podían fletar barcos para realizar transacciones comerciales, pero hemos de tener en cuenta que el formato del texto se encuentra más cerca de la sátira menipea que de cualquier otra cosa. En este sentido la lectura es muy rica y nos ayudará a acercarnos a la realidad del siglo I romano.
Diversos estudiosos han atribuido al texto el honor de ser la primera novela conocida, pero en mi opinión podría hablarse como mucho de protonovela, y ya es ser generoso. Aunque se adivina un esbozo de estructura en el desarrollo de los acontecimientos, falta la ligazón, la coherencia narrativa de un hilo conductor que no existe. Los hechos son poco más que meras yuxtaposiciones de acontecimientos, y la única cohesión la da el hecho de que los protagonistas siempre están en cada una de las escenas. Pero estas secuencias no se hablan entre sí, ni dan sentido a la débil trama. El texto no da respuesta a ninguna pregunta dramática ni los personajes desarrollan un arco.
¿Es prosa? sí, pero con acotaciones poéticas. Luego está el tema de la traducción del latín, es difícil para un lector que no sepa latín saber exactamente el encaje que la obra tuvo en su día en la sociedad romana. Hay que tener en cuenta que casi todos los textos se escribían para ser leídos en público, declamados o incluso interpretados, por tanto la prosa latina nos sonará un poco ajena y un algo musical.
En cuanto al contenido; pues poco más que las andanzas de dos amigos de los bajos fondos y el efebo de uno de ellos. Se nos habla mucho de sexo, violencia, borracheras, robos, sacerdotisas de príapo y ese tipo de cosas. Es remarcable que haya pasajes en los que se habla de violaciones a niñas de 7 años; la pederastia y el erotismo tienen su espacio a lo largo de la narración. Las situaciones oscilan entre lo estrafalario y lo desagradable todo el rato. Hay que tener estómago y a mi no me ha resultado ni divertido, ni excelso; más bien burdo y bajuno.
Dicho todo lo anterior, lo normal es que un lector de nuestros días encuentre que la lectura le resulta árida; en primer lugar porque lo que tenemos son fragmentos, no la obra completa, y en segundo porque no es un texto diseñado para entretener a lectores del s xxi.
Si el texto se lee como entretenimiento, pues una estrella. Si la intención es aprender sobra la época e investigar, entonces son cinco.
Los orígenes son oscuros, aunque la autoría se atribuye a Petronio. Cortesano de Nerón y designado por este árbitro de la elegancia, luego pudo haber sido condenado por haber participado en alguna conjura contra el emperador (¿la pisoniana?)
La lectura es interesante sólo desde el punto de vista de la "arqueología literaria". El texto da cuenta de comidas y bebidas en los banquetes, decoraciones de viviendas, aspectos de la picaresca y los bajos fondos, costumbres sexuales, etc. Veremos cómo se bebía hasta la embriaguez, cómo se realizaba un hechizo o de qué forma se podían fletar barcos para realizar transacciones comerciales, pero hemos de tener en cuenta que el formato del texto se encuentra más cerca de la sátira menipea que de cualquier otra cosa. En este sentido la lectura es muy rica y nos ayudará a acercarnos a la realidad del siglo I romano.
Diversos estudiosos han atribuido al texto el honor de ser la primera novela conocida, pero en mi opinión podría hablarse como mucho de protonovela, y ya es ser generoso. Aunque se adivina un esbozo de estructura en el desarrollo de los acontecimientos, falta la ligazón, la coherencia narrativa de un hilo conductor que no existe. Los hechos son poco más que meras yuxtaposiciones de acontecimientos, y la única cohesión la da el hecho de que los protagonistas siempre están en cada una de las escenas. Pero estas secuencias no se hablan entre sí, ni dan sentido a la débil trama. El texto no da respuesta a ninguna pregunta dramática ni los personajes desarrollan un arco.
¿Es prosa? sí, pero con acotaciones poéticas. Luego está el tema de la traducción del latín, es difícil para un lector que no sepa latín saber exactamente el encaje que la obra tuvo en su día en la sociedad romana. Hay que tener en cuenta que casi todos los textos se escribían para ser leídos en público, declamados o incluso interpretados, por tanto la prosa latina nos sonará un poco ajena y un algo musical.
En cuanto al contenido; pues poco más que las andanzas de dos amigos de los bajos fondos y el efebo de uno de ellos. Se nos habla mucho de sexo, violencia, borracheras, robos, sacerdotisas de príapo y ese tipo de cosas. Es remarcable que haya pasajes en los que se habla de violaciones a niñas de 7 años; la pederastia y el erotismo tienen su espacio a lo largo de la narración. Las situaciones oscilan entre lo estrafalario y lo desagradable todo el rato. Hay que tener estómago y a mi no me ha resultado ni divertido, ni excelso; más bien burdo y bajuno.
Dicho todo lo anterior, lo normal es que un lector de nuestros días encuentre que la lectura le resulta árida; en primer lugar porque lo que tenemos son fragmentos, no la obra completa, y en segundo porque no es un texto diseñado para entretener a lectores del s xxi.
Si el texto se lee como entretenimiento, pues una estrella. Si la intención es aprender sobra la época e investigar, entonces son cinco.
July 6, 2017
i enjoyed this a lot! it didn't seem particularly cohesive, but this is no doubt due to petronius' lost fragments rather than a flaw in the work itself. i'm glad as much of it survived as it did.
January 31, 2022
Un'opera a cui sono molto legata per vari motivi, e che quindi non guardo con occhio del tutto neutro. Un puro concentrato di umorismo per classicisti, che ironizza e deforma con indicibile classe quasi ogni aspetto della società romana dell'epoca (e chissà quanti altri aspetti andava a toccare nelle porzioni di testo perduto!) e del mondo classico in generale. Cliché e generi letterari rovesciati, filosofie capovolte, exempla mitici e letterari usati completamente (e volutamente) a sproposito, convenzioni apertamente derise. Sotto questi aspetti... un testo magistrale.
A seguito di questa seconda lettura completa, però, posso dire che è un'opera invecchiata male, difficile davvero da apprezzare per chi non sia molto pratico delle materie trattate.
Prima di tutto, ovviamente, per il suo stato lacunoso: difficile apprezzare una trama quando tanta parte di essa è (ahinoi) svanita nel nulla; nonostante la curiosità che inevitabilmente desta la storia di questo romanzo, di cui sono misteriose l'identità dell'autore, l'estensione originaria, l'inizio e anche la fine, può essere frustrante avere così tanti pezzi (irrimediabilmente) mancanti. In secondo luogo, per la sua lunghezza complessiva e per la lungaggine specifica di determinati episodi (la coena Trimalchionis ha messo in difficoltà anche me). Infine, per il continuo ripetersi dei medesimi temi ed espedienti, che alla prima volta fanno ridere, alla seconda o alla terza sorridere... alla quinta fanno un po' effetto cinepanettone. Termine che non uso completamente a caso, perché c'è una certa... italicità nelle situazioni comiche illustrate, nel bene e nel male.
E' un testo che comunque merita di essere letto, ma per brani, così da non perderne la freschezza e poter avere anche la voglia e la forza di approfondire ciò che si cela dietro ognuno di essi.
A seguito di questa seconda lettura completa, però, posso dire che è un'opera invecchiata male, difficile davvero da apprezzare per chi non sia molto pratico delle materie trattate.
Prima di tutto, ovviamente, per il suo stato lacunoso: difficile apprezzare una trama quando tanta parte di essa è (ahinoi) svanita nel nulla; nonostante la curiosità che inevitabilmente desta la storia di questo romanzo, di cui sono misteriose l'identità dell'autore, l'estensione originaria, l'inizio e anche la fine, può essere frustrante avere così tanti pezzi (irrimediabilmente) mancanti. In secondo luogo, per la sua lunghezza complessiva e per la lungaggine specifica di determinati episodi (la coena Trimalchionis ha messo in difficoltà anche me). Infine, per il continuo ripetersi dei medesimi temi ed espedienti, che alla prima volta fanno ridere, alla seconda o alla terza sorridere... alla quinta fanno un po' effetto cinepanettone. Termine che non uso completamente a caso, perché c'è una certa... italicità nelle situazioni comiche illustrate, nel bene e nel male.
E' un testo che comunque merita di essere letto, ma per brani, così da non perderne la freschezza e poter avere anche la voglia e la forza di approfondire ciò che si cela dietro ognuno di essi.
March 9, 2021
Ciò che davvero mi ha spinta a leggere questo libro è un passo di “A Ritroso” di Huysmans. Riporto queste poche righe perché in pochissimi casi ho avuto la curiosità di approfondire a tal punto un argomento trattato durante le lezioni di letteratura latina; è impossibile non rimanere affascinati dalla trama (o di quello che ci è rimasto, che è tuttavia sufficiente a farci comprendere e apprezzare l’opera) o dal personaggio di Petronio, un dandy dell’epoca neroniana, un intellettuale fuori dalle righe e sfaccendato.
“L’autore da lui veramente amato... era Petronio. Era questi un osservatore perspicace, un delicato analista, un meraviglioso pittore; tranquillamente, senza partito preso, senza odio, descriveva la vita giornaliera di Roma, raccontava nei vivaci capitoletti del Satiricon i costumi della sua epoca [...] analizza con placida finezza le gioie e i dolori di questi amori e di queste coppie, dipinge in una lingua splendidamente lavorata, senza che l’autore si mostri una sola volta, senza che si abbandoni ad alcun commento, senza che approvi o maledica gli atti e i pensieri dei suoi personaggi, i vizi di una civiltà decrepita, di un impero che si incrina, affascinava Des Esseintes”.
“L’autore da lui veramente amato... era Petronio. Era questi un osservatore perspicace, un delicato analista, un meraviglioso pittore; tranquillamente, senza partito preso, senza odio, descriveva la vita giornaliera di Roma, raccontava nei vivaci capitoletti del Satiricon i costumi della sua epoca [...] analizza con placida finezza le gioie e i dolori di questi amori e di queste coppie, dipinge in una lingua splendidamente lavorata, senza che l’autore si mostri una sola volta, senza che si abbandoni ad alcun commento, senza che approvi o maledica gli atti e i pensieri dei suoi personaggi, i vizi di una civiltà decrepita, di un impero che si incrina, affascinava Des Esseintes”.
February 28, 2019
Itin malonu skaityti knygas, akivaizdžiai mylimas ir jų maketuotojų. Žinoma, tai nieko nepasako apie turinį, tačiau negaliu nesidžiaugti šios knygos dizainu - tiek pirštams (ir akiai!) maloniais puslapiais, tiek visoje knygoje besikartojančiomis ochrinėmis detalėmis. Ir spalva, ir iliustracijos bei ornamentai, mano manymu, labai tinka šiam veikalui.
Na, o turinys nuteikia įdomiai; įsivaizduoju, jog gyvenant tuometinėje romėnų visuomenėje skaityti būtų tik įdomiau - vis tik aprašomos ir išjuokiamos tų laikų aktualijos, kurias šiais laikais suvokti ne taip ir paprasta. It koks romėnų "Laikykitės ten" literatūrine forma. Gaila tik, kad tiek nedaug šio kūrinio išlikę - nei pradžios, nei pabaigos, vieni fragmentai.
"Jei gerai apskaičiuosi visas galimybes - laivo sudužimas tyko mūsų visur."
Na, o turinys nuteikia įdomiai; įsivaizduoju, jog gyvenant tuometinėje romėnų visuomenėje skaityti būtų tik įdomiau - vis tik aprašomos ir išjuokiamos tų laikų aktualijos, kurias šiais laikais suvokti ne taip ir paprasta. It koks romėnų "Laikykitės ten" literatūrine forma. Gaila tik, kad tiek nedaug šio kūrinio išlikę - nei pradžios, nei pabaigos, vieni fragmentai.
"Jei gerai apskaičiuosi visas galimybes - laivo sudužimas tyko mūsų visur."
October 20, 2020
A book that I would call a literary artefact rather than a novel, other readers have expanded on this. One key word can give the plot away: debauchery. The edition I read was published by Norilana Classics, it is presented as the ‘complete and unexpurgated translation by W.C. Firebaugh in which are incorporated the forgeries of Nodot and Marchena and the readings introduced into the text by De Salas.’ The forgeries are added to the text and in order to differentiate the forgeries from the original, there are three codes: in parenthesis () we find the forgeries of Nodot, Marchena’s forgeries are written in brackets {} and Salas’s additions are inserted in italics.
Interestingly, the section I enjoyed the most was not Petronius’s loosely called novel, but the notes written by Marchena, which first appeared in 1800 and have now been published for the first time by Norilana Classics. Marchena’s introduction is dedicated to The Army of the Rhine and it is followed by six chapters discussing Soldiers in love, Courtesans, Greek love, Pollution, Virginity, and Pandars.
As a whole The Satyricon is a rather fragmented, crude, controversial yet well written book, which needs to be read taking into consideration the historical and social context in which the narrated ‘adventures’ take place. I suspect that most readers who are not accustomed to this type of literature will not enjoy this book, this is a book to be appreciated by a niche audience.
Interestingly, the section I enjoyed the most was not Petronius’s loosely called novel, but the notes written by Marchena, which first appeared in 1800 and have now been published for the first time by Norilana Classics. Marchena’s introduction is dedicated to The Army of the Rhine and it is followed by six chapters discussing Soldiers in love, Courtesans, Greek love, Pollution, Virginity, and Pandars.
As a whole The Satyricon is a rather fragmented, crude, controversial yet well written book, which needs to be read taking into consideration the historical and social context in which the narrated ‘adventures’ take place. I suspect that most readers who are not accustomed to this type of literature will not enjoy this book, this is a book to be appreciated by a niche audience.
January 15, 2016
Uno de los personajes más ricos de la novela Quo Vadis? es el Arbiter Elegantiarum Cayo Petronio.
En uno de los capítulos de la novela Quo Vadis?, Petronio se complace en obsequiar a su sobrino Marco Vinicio su más reciente obra, su libro llamado "El Satiricón" en donde le sugiere leer de inmediato el capítulo "El banquete de Trimalción".
Una obvia curiosidad me animó a investigar si realmente el libro existía y lo encontré en internet. Así que mientras releía Quo Vadis? ya me encargaba de imprimir poco por poco esta nuevo libro.
El Satiricón, en la edición de la Biblioteca Clásica Gredos y según Carmen Codoñer menciona los siguiente: "Resulta complicado presentar una obra cuyo autor y época son dudosos y que, por añadidura, nos han llegado incompleta o, mejor aún, fragmentada". En toda la presentación del libro, Carmen Codoñer expone contrapuntos con respecto a la autoría y fecha de publicación del libro, no obstante en la portada aparece Petronio como autor. Carmen Codoñer realiza una valiosa presentación del libro brindándonos muchos detalles de varios fuentes sobre el origen del libro.
La obra es realmente muy bizarra, narra la historia de tres jóvenes romanos (Encolpio, Ascilto y Gitón) que reflejan las costumbres de la época y posteriormente se une un anciano poeta llamado Eumolpo, la obra esta narrada en primera persona por uno de los personajes en donde se cuenta en varios fragmentos situaciones trágicas y cómicas con una buena dosis de sarcasmo, mordacidad y genio admirable sin censurar nada, asimismo, la obra combina prosa y fragmentos de poemas, algunos pequeños cuentos que van surgiendo con naturalidad siguiendo el ritmo de los acontecimientos.
He aquí un fragmento de la segunda parte titulado "La Cena de Trimalción" : "he aquí que nos traen un azafate donde había una gallina de madera, con las alas desplegadas en círculo, en la postura que suelen adoptar para incubar sus huevos. Se acercaron en seguida dos esclavos y, a los agudos acentos de una melodía, empezaron a escarbar en la paja, de donde sacaron huevos de pavo y los repartieron a los convidados. Trimalción se volvió ante este cuadro, diciendo: «Amigos míos: son huevos de pavo que yo mandé echar a una clueca. Y, por Hércules, me temo que estén ya empollados. Probemos, no obstante, a ver si aún se pueden tomar.» Nos pasan unas cucharas que no pesaban menos de media libra cada una, y rompemos los huevos, que resultaron ser obra de pastelería. Yo estuve a punto de tirar mi ración, pues me parecía ver ya formado el pollito."
El Satiricón es una obra divertida, que te puedes destornillar de la risa por momentos... una genial obra que debe releerse.
En uno de los capítulos de la novela Quo Vadis?, Petronio se complace en obsequiar a su sobrino Marco Vinicio su más reciente obra, su libro llamado "El Satiricón" en donde le sugiere leer de inmediato el capítulo "El banquete de Trimalción".
Una obvia curiosidad me animó a investigar si realmente el libro existía y lo encontré en internet. Así que mientras releía Quo Vadis? ya me encargaba de imprimir poco por poco esta nuevo libro.
El Satiricón, en la edición de la Biblioteca Clásica Gredos y según Carmen Codoñer menciona los siguiente: "Resulta complicado presentar una obra cuyo autor y época son dudosos y que, por añadidura, nos han llegado incompleta o, mejor aún, fragmentada". En toda la presentación del libro, Carmen Codoñer expone contrapuntos con respecto a la autoría y fecha de publicación del libro, no obstante en la portada aparece Petronio como autor. Carmen Codoñer realiza una valiosa presentación del libro brindándonos muchos detalles de varios fuentes sobre el origen del libro.
La obra es realmente muy bizarra, narra la historia de tres jóvenes romanos (Encolpio, Ascilto y Gitón) que reflejan las costumbres de la época y posteriormente se une un anciano poeta llamado Eumolpo, la obra esta narrada en primera persona por uno de los personajes en donde se cuenta en varios fragmentos situaciones trágicas y cómicas con una buena dosis de sarcasmo, mordacidad y genio admirable sin censurar nada, asimismo, la obra combina prosa y fragmentos de poemas, algunos pequeños cuentos que van surgiendo con naturalidad siguiendo el ritmo de los acontecimientos.
He aquí un fragmento de la segunda parte titulado "La Cena de Trimalción" : "he aquí que nos traen un azafate donde había una gallina de madera, con las alas desplegadas en círculo, en la postura que suelen adoptar para incubar sus huevos. Se acercaron en seguida dos esclavos y, a los agudos acentos de una melodía, empezaron a escarbar en la paja, de donde sacaron huevos de pavo y los repartieron a los convidados. Trimalción se volvió ante este cuadro, diciendo: «Amigos míos: son huevos de pavo que yo mandé echar a una clueca. Y, por Hércules, me temo que estén ya empollados. Probemos, no obstante, a ver si aún se pueden tomar.» Nos pasan unas cucharas que no pesaban menos de media libra cada una, y rompemos los huevos, que resultaron ser obra de pastelería. Yo estuve a punto de tirar mi ración, pues me parecía ver ya formado el pollito."
El Satiricón es una obra divertida, que te puedes destornillar de la risa por momentos... una genial obra que debe releerse.
February 6, 2021
Nach der Hälfte habe ich mich schweren Herzens, ich breche nur sehr ungern Bücher ab, dazu entschlossen, das Buch zu beenden. Die Geschichte und vor allem die Sprache sind mir zu derbe und der Inhalt zu langweilig. Es interessiert mich auch nicht wirklich, was der Erzähler so alles erlebt. Erotische Literatur, zum Beispiel von Anais Nin, mag ich durchaus gerne, aber das hier war mir zu platt.
Schade, auch wenn es ein Klassiker ist.
Allerdings verstehe ich sehr wohl, dass dieses Buch einen Feuersturm an Empörung ausgelöst haben muss.
Schade, auch wenn es ein Klassiker ist.
Allerdings verstehe ich sehr wohl, dass dieses Buch einen Feuersturm an Empörung ausgelöst haben muss.
June 8, 2010
I had to read this book for class. I loved the class, I hated the book--as did everyone else in the class. We hated reading the book so much that we couldn't even give the movie a fair shot.
The book is hard to read for multiple reasons. I can't talk about the quality of the writing, since that would depend on which translation one is reading, but no matter who did the translation, some things can't be fixed. First of all, this novel is made up of only the surviving parts of the original story. There is supposed to be more, but it's lost to us, and so all we have to read are bits and pieces. This makes it, understandably, difficult to follow the story. But beyond that there was, for me, a greater problem: the bits that were there were unpleasant. They were violent, disgusting, graphically sexual, and otherwise distasteful. I didn't want to find out what had happened in the missing bits, because I didn't enjoy what was happening in the bits there were.
Perhaps a different translation might be able to make up for the unpleasantness of the story by having excellent prose that would make me want to keep reading...perhaps. I've both loved and hated The Iliad because of different translators, so I can't say that it's impossible. But I doubt it.
The book is hard to read for multiple reasons. I can't talk about the quality of the writing, since that would depend on which translation one is reading, but no matter who did the translation, some things can't be fixed. First of all, this novel is made up of only the surviving parts of the original story. There is supposed to be more, but it's lost to us, and so all we have to read are bits and pieces. This makes it, understandably, difficult to follow the story. But beyond that there was, for me, a greater problem: the bits that were there were unpleasant. They were violent, disgusting, graphically sexual, and otherwise distasteful. I didn't want to find out what had happened in the missing bits, because I didn't enjoy what was happening in the bits there were.
Perhaps a different translation might be able to make up for the unpleasantness of the story by having excellent prose that would make me want to keep reading...perhaps. I've both loved and hated The Iliad because of different translators, so I can't say that it's impossible. But I doubt it.
January 7, 2026
What a wild ride.
April 22, 2024
Overflowing from start to finish with a kaleidoscope of homosexual and heterosexual escapades, wild parties, and eccentric erotic customs, the uncensored Satyricon remained clandestine in English until the swinging 1960s, when Penguin Books triumphed in a legal showdown regarding the release of D.H. Lawrence's scandalous Lady Chatterley’s Lover.
With its sprawling ensemble, rollicking escapades, seamless blend of prose and poetry, and its decadent, surrealistic settings, the novel is an indelible, uproarious portrayal of Nero's era, brimming with extravagance and pandemonium.
The Satyricon presents us with an ageless ribaldry, still shockingly impudent, as our protagonist Encolpius (whose moniker roughly equates to "groin" or "crotch") endures a series of misfortunes while also plagued by impotence, purportedly as punishment for some mysterious transgression against the god Priapus. He is tormented by his affection, if it can be called that, for his enticing yet capricious slave-boy Giton, and vexed by his occasional companion Eumolpus, a poet so dreadful that audiences start pelting him with stones whenever he recites his compositions. And at the heart of the narrative, we encounter the timeless Trimalchio, whose legendary banquet remains, and will always remain, the epitome of gauche extravagance. Do not attempt if you're "woke" or whatever they call you on the other side of the ignorant spectrum.
With its sprawling ensemble, rollicking escapades, seamless blend of prose and poetry, and its decadent, surrealistic settings, the novel is an indelible, uproarious portrayal of Nero's era, brimming with extravagance and pandemonium.
The Satyricon presents us with an ageless ribaldry, still shockingly impudent, as our protagonist Encolpius (whose moniker roughly equates to "groin" or "crotch") endures a series of misfortunes while also plagued by impotence, purportedly as punishment for some mysterious transgression against the god Priapus. He is tormented by his affection, if it can be called that, for his enticing yet capricious slave-boy Giton, and vexed by his occasional companion Eumolpus, a poet so dreadful that audiences start pelting him with stones whenever he recites his compositions. And at the heart of the narrative, we encounter the timeless Trimalchio, whose legendary banquet remains, and will always remain, the epitome of gauche extravagance. Do not attempt if you're "woke" or whatever they call you on the other side of the ignorant spectrum.
January 5, 2015
Erotic literature of the Roman Empire, written about two thousand years ago. What reached us is only fragments from the original novel.
This was one of the findings of my second year of Latin at University. Thanks God, we were allowed to read it in translation - the point of that year was just taking contact with Roman literature. Another finding of that course? The Golden Asse by Apuleius - of course.
This was one of the findings of my second year of Latin at University. Thanks God, we were allowed to read it in translation - the point of that year was just taking contact with Roman literature. Another finding of that course? The Golden Asse by Apuleius - of course.
May 12, 2017
Two young men romp around the Roman empire while fighting over who gets to diddle the teenage boy. I guess it's pretty easy to have your work considered a "classic" when it's one of the few remaining texts to survive.
January 15, 2016
Classic Bingo 2016. I1: Written/published before 1600s.
This is very bawdy, but not graphic.
This is very bawdy, but not graphic.
Read
November 1, 2022Un tempo infinito ho impiegato a leggere questo testo.
E due volte l’ho dovuto leggere. La prima volta la lettura si è protratta per quasi un mese, l’ho letto con tutta la prefazione e tutte le note, note che sembrano troppo, davvero troppo prolisse per una lettura agevole e, d’altra parte, immagino troppo sbrigative per uno studio - ma ecco che questo mi è proprio sembrato di aver fatto: studiare.
Dunque non mi sono goduto alcunché del testo di Petronio e, chiuso il libro, mi son reso conto di non averne memoria, di non aver goduto pure un piccolo passaggio di quella squisitezza decantata. Perciò ho ricominciato da capo e, in un paio di giorni, ho letto l’agile testo (che badate bene, ho potuto comprendere solo grazie alle note che poc’anzi ho criticato).
Che fatica!
Ne è valsa la pena? Ah, non lo so.
Se fossi Socrate risponderei che almeno, adesso, l’ho letto prima di morire, ma Socrate non sono.
Ho riso, certo, ho ammirato l’eleganza di alcuni versi (in traduzione, ché sono ignorante), ho pensato alla parola “ritmo”, mentre leggevo, e al suo significato, perché mi son ritrovato sì incalzato dalle vicende (qui, però, gli asterischi delle lacune aiutano, se non altro, tale percezione), ma resta la fatica.
Non ho strumenti sufficienti per apprezzarlo come lo apprezzano altri, ubi maior minor cessat.
Ma sì, ma sì, mi è piaciuto, sì.
Ripenso alle braccia bianche di Circe e al motivo della sua ira, è davvero divertente.
E due volte l’ho dovuto leggere. La prima volta la lettura si è protratta per quasi un mese, l’ho letto con tutta la prefazione e tutte le note, note che sembrano troppo, davvero troppo prolisse per una lettura agevole e, d’altra parte, immagino troppo sbrigative per uno studio - ma ecco che questo mi è proprio sembrato di aver fatto: studiare.
Dunque non mi sono goduto alcunché del testo di Petronio e, chiuso il libro, mi son reso conto di non averne memoria, di non aver goduto pure un piccolo passaggio di quella squisitezza decantata. Perciò ho ricominciato da capo e, in un paio di giorni, ho letto l’agile testo (che badate bene, ho potuto comprendere solo grazie alle note che poc’anzi ho criticato).
Che fatica!
Ne è valsa la pena? Ah, non lo so.
Se fossi Socrate risponderei che almeno, adesso, l’ho letto prima di morire, ma Socrate non sono.
Ho riso, certo, ho ammirato l’eleganza di alcuni versi (in traduzione, ché sono ignorante), ho pensato alla parola “ritmo”, mentre leggevo, e al suo significato, perché mi son ritrovato sì incalzato dalle vicende (qui, però, gli asterischi delle lacune aiutano, se non altro, tale percezione), ma resta la fatica.
Non ho strumenti sufficienti per apprezzarlo come lo apprezzano altri, ubi maior minor cessat.
Ma sì, ma sì, mi è piaciuto, sì.
Ripenso alle braccia bianche di Circe e al motivo della sua ira, è davvero divertente.
April 26, 2024
Entre ardientes abrazos confundimos nuestras almas en un delirio de mutuos besos.
Adiós preocupaciones mortales.
Por mi parte, entonces, me sentí morir.
Adiós preocupaciones mortales.
Por mi parte, entonces, me sentí morir.
December 10, 2025
nunca un libro encajo tanto con la definición de lolazo. fever dream absoluto pero por alguna razón siento que he aprendido bastante sobre la sociedad romana???
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