Product Description

The Flowers of Evil, which T. S. Eliot called the greatest example of modern poetry in any language, shocked the literary world of nineteenth century France with its outspoken portrayal of lesbian love, its linking sexuality and death, its unremitting irony, and its unflinching celebration of the seamy side of urban life. The volume was seized by the police, and Baudelaire and his published were put on trial for offence to public decency. Six offending poems were banned, in a conviction that was not overturned until 1949. This bold new translation, which restores the banned poems to their original places and reveals the full richness and variety of the collection, makes available to English speakers a powerful and original version of the world. Jonathan Culler's Introduction outlines this vision, stressing that Baudelaire is more than just the poet of the modern city. Originally to be called `The Lesbians', The Flowers of Evil contains the most extraordinary body of love poetry. The poems also pose the question of the role of evil in our lives, of whether there are not external forces working to frustrate human plans and to enlist men and women on appalling or stultifying scenarios not of their own making.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #52003 in Books
• Published on: 2008-04-17
• Original language: French, English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 464 pages

Customer Reviews

A collection of poems evoking 19th century bohemiancity life
Les Fleurs de Mal is a meditation of the problem of being moral in a new industrial society where the distinction between good and evil no longer seems to be a distinction that can be made. Some of the poems were banned when they were first composed but this collection restores them to their rightful place within the chapters. This is a pretty good translation of the poems although it does sacrifice some of the meaning of the lines in French in order to produce rhyme in English. Read this for a beautiful and striking evocation of bohemian life.

Sickly Flowers
Charles Baudelaire is one of the most technically exact and lyrical of all poets. One of the main problems with this otherwise superb book of his poems is the poor translation. James McGowan has taken Baudelaire's beautiful poetry and turned it into turgid writing. The quality of the translations is indicative of the poor scholarly standards that prevail in this era. The poems are almost perfect in the original, but so many liberties have been taken, often for the sake of finding a rhyme, that often the 'essense' as well as the meaning is lost. If James McGowan had refrained from translating Baudelaire's beautiful poetry, our world would be a better place.

excellent excellent excellent (and not incomprehensible)
I've rated this 4 stars as it's the english version and so although it may be oxford world classics and therefore excellently transalted, some of the rhythm and rhyme of the poems will be lost, which often adds to its personality. The french version gets 5 stars.

Baudelaire wrote brilliant poetry, and it wasn't the stuff a gentleman could recline into his leather chair with his pipe with to relax in the 19th C without (unless he was totally thick) realising that a lot of the poems (especially in spleen and ideal) are focused mainly on the dark and rotting side of life. 'spleen' was for baudelaire a sort of depressive feeling of ennui and dark restlessness, and ideal its opposite; an ecstatic state of spiritual well-being. the collection of poems ranges between these opposing poles (it is generally thought that b was a manic depressive) and are beautiful.
a lot of people in my french lit class really disliked B; saying he was a weirdo and really disgusting - some of the images and themes are, but i think those people just couldn't confront/think about the dark side of life, which B translates into his poetry and knew so well.
having written all about how dark B's poetry is, and how some people find it depressing, i personally find some of them quite uplifting - for example in one lengthy poem about a corspe rotting in the sunshine, the poet contemplates how one day his body and soul will be reduced to such a state. but implicit in the poem is hat fact that the flowers in the surrounding field grow out of such rotten material, that life is cyclic and that almost nothing is eternal.
even if you're not used to poetry, i would recommend this, as long as you're not squeamish!