Jean Lorrain (1855–1906)

Jean Lorrain writes what might be called fairy tales, with the conceit that the he can only half remember these stories, which themselves contain half-memories of earlier times. These are stories full of pathos and regret. They're very nineteenth century, full of a romantic longing for an earlier, pre-industrial world. But that world is gone forever, and that means that the stories are mostly sad stories. Possibly the closest thing I have read to them is Wilde's Happy Prince stories, except Lorrain is less sentimental and less determined to find an uplifting ending in loss.

The stories are quite varied, including straight fantasy stories about knights and quests, realist stories and a few stories somewhere in the middle, where it isn't certain where reality ends. This dreamlike quality is suggested by the title. I found the best time to read them was as I was drifting off to sleep -- they don't read quite so well on a crowded bus!

Patricia Worth's translation is excellent. It is all in very readable contemporary English and yet it still feels very French, which is an impressive feat. Thanks to Patricia for my review copy -- I enjoyed it immensely.… (mere)

El ejemplar lleva el sello de pertenencia de "Coleccion Alberto Tabbia"

Escritor francés, poeta, cuentista y novelista nacido en 1855, Jean Lorrain fue el seudónimo utilizado por Paul Duval para firmar la mayor parte de su obra literaria. Fue muy conocido por su poesía y prosa decadentista, siendo un habitual de la vida bohemia parisina a finales del siglo XIX. Lorrain publicó en numerosas revistas como Le Chat Noir o Le Décadent y sus cuentos fantásticos tuvieron una gran acogida. Defensor del dandismo y provocador nato, no ocultó su homosexualidad, algo que no le impidió ser miembro de la Academia Goncourt. Su paso a la novela se dio en 1897 con la aclamada por la crítica Monsieur de Bougrelon. Su desmedida y duradera pasión por el éter, que como el láudano, la morfina o el opio circulaba cuantiosamente por los círculos literarios decadentistas de fin de siglo, le valieron nueve úlceras en el intestino que terminaron por matarlo en 1906.… (mere)

Stories to Read by Candlelight recaptures memories of a provincial childhood full of 'melancholy and dreams.' Apart from the tales, the book is also strewn with the French author's lyrical remembrances of those early years and the places he inhabited.

'...When I think of that attic, I immediately see a blue-green vision with seaweed moving through it, and shimmering reflections, and large collapsed things: they are yardarms, masts and ships like cathedrals, spectres of flotsam from bygone days, ghosts from very old shipwrecks...'

Like the vision of the attic, this slim volume swims with stories that rise from the forgotten depths of the past. It contains a variety of tales, some terrifying, some creepy, some hopeful, others not. An old-fashioned word in the text - crepuscular - refers to the twilight, and many of the tales take place in this zone, uncovering shadows and indistinct forms which confront the reader with harsh truths and prejudices. Justice isn't always served, children can be cruel, and society can carelessly judge and torment those who don't fit in.

Queen Maritorne was one of my favourite tales, as was the sorrowful song of Marjolaine. I also took a fancy to those passages where the author spoke of his writing process, how 'reality prepares the canvas and imagination embroiders it.' Ably translated by Patricia Worth and gorgeously illustrated by Erin-Claire Barrow, Stories to Read by Candlelight truly does evoke candlelit rooms of old. More for adults, but readers twelve and over with a penchant for the macabre and unexpected might also enjoy this offering.… (mere)