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3.71  ·  Rating details ·  1,961 ratings  ·  227 reviews
Bruges-la-Morte is the story of one man’s obsession with his dead wife and his soul’s struggle between an alluring young dancer—his late wife’s double—and the beautiful, melancholy city of Bruges, whose moody atmosphere mirrors his mourning.  This hallmark of Belgian symbolist literature, first translated into English by Philip Mosley to great acclaim twenty years ago, is ...more
Paperback, 90 pages
Published December 15th 2007 by University of Scranton Press (first published 1892)
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Vit Babenco
May 21, 2017 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Georges Rodenbach does everything possible to create the atmosphere of the morbid and deadly melancholia so this authentic aura of hopelessness and doom turns the novel into the well of despondency.
Upon the day following the funeral of the wife in whom was bound up all his possibilities of happiness, he had retired to Bruges as a fastness of melancholy and there succumbed to its fascination.

The old Gothic town and the bereft widower are in the perfect harmony…
In the vistas of the canals he disc
Jul 15, 2017 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: read-in-2017
My real trip to Bruges took place when I got home after visiting the actual city, when I gathered enough momentum to submit to Rodenbach’s pulsating testimony of the kind of beauty that can only be found in death, like one can sense in certain places such as the somber cathedrals, the towering belfries, the pebbled alleys and greyish quays that compose the skeleton of Bruges, once a decadent city brought back to life by the refined pen of a Symbolist’s contemplation.

Hugues Viane is a disconsolat
Dec 20, 2012 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
I sometimes get the worrying feeling that nineteenth-century men preferred their women to be dead than alive. There is something archetypal about the repeated vision of the pale, beautiful, fragile, utterly feminine corpse. Beyond corruption, a woman who's died is a woman you can safely worship without any danger that she'll ruin the image by doing something vulgar like using the wrong form of address to a bishop, or blowing your best friend. It's a vision that crops up everywhere in the works o ...more
I’d long been curious about this book, which turned out to be a novella of just 78 pages in the edition I read, which was in English translation. My edition also had an Introduction of about 20 pages, which annoyingly gave away the whole storyline and thus reduced my enjoyment of the novel. If you happen to come across the same edition as me, published in 1985 with the translation by Philip Mosley, then I recommend you skip the Introduction. I might start doing that as a general rule with novels ...more
Proustitute (on hiatus)

Hugues Viane has retired to Bruges after the death of his wife of ten years; five years later, he is still unable to put her memory to rest. Indeed, he has sequestered himself in his home, erecting a shrine to his wife; in this room are gathered her portraits and various objects and trinkets, along with a tress of her hair which Viane has placed inside a glass box. Each day he caresses and kisses each item, and by night he takes to the meandering the streets of Bruges whose grey melancholy he fe
I had the idea of reading Bruges la morte and watching the film "In Bruges" (view spoiler)to see if there were any similarities between the tragi-comic crime caper and fin de siecle symbolist text.

First I had to order Bruges la morte from the frightful fortress of the library's reserve stacks and then it struck me that it was a little impractical to watch a film and read a book equally attentively at the same time.

In the end
Oct 11, 2022 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
"When he first came here, Hugues had felt this pale and soothing influence of Bruges and through it had come to resign himself to living on memories alone, to relinquish hope, looking forward to a Good Death...

And now, despite the anxieties of the present, his pain diluted a little, in the evening, in the long, still canals, and he tried to become one more a man in the image and likeness of the town."

After making my way back from a trip to The Netherlands and Belgium, I thought I would reminisce
Lately I’ve taken to roaming
The streets of a city so dead
That even the sea and her moaning
Long since hath retreated and fled

Along old canals where the waters
Lie still ‘neath a low sullen sky
Th’ occasional soft pitter patter
Can be heard of the lone passerby

Here I walk every night of my grieving
A shade among shades in the dark
With the image of mine own true Darling
Locked deep in the shades of my heart

A long tress keep I of her golden
Hair in a showcase of glass
Which I placed near my bed on the mo
Stephen P(who no longer can participate due to illness)
A time of melancholic desperation. Everything appears reminiscent of the loss of our loved one. It is not a projection of our loss but that we chose to live here, a place which occupies our feelings, moods. The inner and outer has become dissoluble. Each is the other and enables us now to dedicate ourselves not to the stopping of life but to the dedication of our life to the devoted mourning of our dead love. This is a religion which is supported by the mementos of the beloved dead wife includin ...more
Nate D
The morbid obsession of an inconsolable bereavement, and the dual mapping of that loss onto city streets, fog-bound and empty, and onto a new living object, innocent of the simulacrum she's been forced to become. Or the book doesn't really see her as innocent, casting her as a somewhat blandly archetypal manipulative harlot, but really who wouldn't fair poorly under the projected image of a lover who is unable to see her at all behind the other he has lost? Still, the streets of Bruges have a sl ...more
Dec 24, 2015 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: bitchin
Funny how, years later, I can still picture that one pose, how everything else has fallen away – all the bitterness, the arguments, the boredom – and left only that. I didn’t even see it first hand, I saw only her reflection in the surface of the mirror. I was sitting on her bed, and she, with her back to me, was grabbing at her short hair and pouting at herself; and I don’t know, I can’t recall, if I even found it beautiful at the time, but, after the break-up, this probably unreliable memory b ...more
Feb 27, 2019 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: 2019, dedalus
He needed a dead town to correspond to his dead wife. His deep mourning demanded such a setting. Life would only be bearable for him there. It was instinct that had brought him here. He would leave the world elsewhere to its bustle and buzz, to its glittering balls, its welter of voices. He needed infinite silence and an existence that was so monotonous it almost failed to give him the sense of being alive. (p. 30)

He possessed what one might call a 'sense of resemblance', an extra sense, frail a
Mar 25, 2021 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: fiction
I really liked this book. It has a contemporary feel and light tone that belies the fact that it was written in 1892.

Rich widower moves to Bruges. He is sad about his dead wife, and just a little unhinged by grief - he has a shrine to the wife. He sees a dancer who is the dead spit of his deceased spouse, so of course he starts up a relationship with her. It gets a bit icky when he asks her to put on the wifes dresses - I suppose we should be grateful he didn't ask her to play dead. In time the
This is going straight to my Favorites shelf.

" Ten years of this happiness, ten years hardly noticed, so quickly had they passed. Then his young wife had died, just as she reached her thirtieth year, confined for a few short weeks to her bed, which quickly became her deathbed, an image that would remain with him for ever: faded and white, like the candle burning at her head, the woman he had adored for the beauty of her radiant complexion, of her eyes, black, dilated pupils set in mother of pea
Mar 30, 2009 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
BRUGES LA MORTE is a slim novel telling the story of a man who, mourning his dead wife, moves to the Belgian city of Bruges, a city seemingly designed to mope in. Mist and fog blanket the cobblestone causeways and chilly canals watched over by brooding stone cathedrals from whose towers peal endless, mournful bells.

You may think I'm being satirical but, actually, this is a great, atmospheric read. Our narrator is shocked to pass a woman in the street who looks exactly liked his dead wife (this b
Dec 14, 2012 rated it it was amazing
Shelves: france, fiction
This short novel bears a startling resemblance to Alfred Hitchcock's film Vertigo and to the Boileau and Narcejac novel upon which it is based D'Entre les Morts). Having lost his wife, Hugues Viane moves to the melancholy city of Bruges in Belgium where he lives a somber life morosely contemplating his loss some five years ago. His house has become, in effect, a museum dedicated to her with the same furniture, the clothing, paintings, and -- most highly prized of all -- a braided blonde tress fr ...more
Year of New Authors

A widower moves to Bruges to dedicate himself to a life of mourning, complete with rituals and a shrine to his lost beloved. All is miserably perfect until he chances upon a woman who perfectly resembles his late spouse.

Bruges-La-Morte seemed to be heralded as some quintessential example of Symbolist literature, but I'd call it more a bingo card than a decent story. We have the cold and wanton harpy, rampantly macabre morbidity, divine Catholicism, gothic setting- Full House!,
Jun 30, 2017 rated it it was amazing
Shelves: favorites
Bruges-la-Morte is a masterpiece in symbolist fiction – in fact, it is more like a prose poem dedicated to the city of Bruges, as a part of one man’s mourning. This novella has many themes: Bereavement, obsession, mortality, desire, religion, solitude, isolation. And above all, it is a long meditation on “resemblance” . The mysterious atmosphere and ambiguity of coincidences remind me André Breton’s Nadja. Of course, this piece (published in 1892) is much more melancholic, but I don’t agree that ...more
Jim Elkins
Jan 28, 2013 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: flemish
This is a Symbolist classic, a portrait of a man in mourning who sees himself in the "dead" city of Bruges, tied to it by "an extra sense, frail and sickly," which links moods to buildings and images, "creating a spiritual telegraphy" between the soul "and the grief-stricken towers of Bruges." (p. 60.)

There is interesting literature on this book--the art historian Georges Didi-Huberman has written on it--but that it not my interest. I read it because it has illustrations, photographs of the cit
Robert Wechsler
Sep 27, 2013 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: french-lit
This novel is not my style: it’s a symbolist work of High Romanticism, obsessed with death, religion, and excessive emotion. But it is beautifully written and the perfect length. Its elements – love, death, ritual, doubles, and all the aspects of the city of Bruges that the protagonist feels reflect the condition of his soul (you can practically hear the ringing, ringing, ringing of the bells) – are very well handled. I thank my Goodreads friends who recommended the book so highly.

I am glad that
Kobe Bryant
Its crazy how many frail wives just fall sick and die in these old books. What the hell were they doing back then
this is a masterpiece
Mar 30, 2010 rated it really liked it
Rodenbach’s little known symbolist masterpiece is herewith curiously translated and published in English by the exceedingly obscure University of Scranton Press. Scranton, let’s not forget, is the setting for the US version of television’s "The Office", but there the comparisons end. This classic of Belgian literature epitomises the decadent final years of the nineteenth century, a north of the border companion piece to the poetry of Baudelaire and Verlaine, rich in dreaminess and mysterious in ...more
Jan 17, 2020 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: literature
If you’re in the mood for some frothy fin-de-siècle melancholy, this is the book. Several chapters in, I had a flash of recognition—Hitchcock’s Vertigo, as a few seconds’ research on Google confirmed, is a direct descendant. For me, the chief appeal of this book is its dreamy, fervid portrayal of place. Obsessively psychologized lines like “Never before had his tergiversation caused him such disquietude” are the icing on the cake. As an artifact of Symbolism, I’m not as impressed as I would like ...more
like the lovelorn protagonist of dostoevsky's white nights, whose desires mould the canals of saint petersburgs in its image, the cobblestone roads of the decaying bruges are transformed by hugues's grief, becoming a character — if not the most important one — in its own right. as a symbolist novella that prizes atmosphere above all, this was very much up my alley (although i was inclined to like it, being one of the inspirations for hitchcock's vertigo; the cover art also happened to feature a ...more
Jun 04, 2017 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: gothic, 2017
This was a fascinating little Gothic novel, ripe with eerie poetic melancholy and described as "the" Symbolist novel. It tells the tale of a widower (Hughes) who moves to Bruges after his young wife's death only to become enchanted and obsessed with a young dancer (Jane) who resembles his dead wife:

"So complete was his hallucination that it banished all consciousness of treachery to the woman that he had adored. No fleeting shadow of skepticism disturbed the blissfulness of his illusion."

The pr
Mar 20, 2013 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: novels
another from Writers No one Reads, but I notice plenty of people on GR have!

Went to Bruges a couple of years ago, and bought this later as a kind of memento. Unfortunately this edition is not the one that includes pictures of the town, but then I have photos and guides already, so I can (and did) look at those. It’s true it’s a melancholy town with gloomy towers and canals sliding out of sight, but in fact now it’s full of stag and hen parties, taking advantage of the hundreds of different (stro
Feb 24, 2022 rated it liked it
Bruges-la-Morte (“The Dead City of Bruges”) is a short novel by the Belgian author Georges Rodenbach. It follows the widower Hughes Vianes and his obsession with his dead wife: every morning he wakes to and kisses her portraits, worships a tress of her golden locks. Later, in the midst of grief and mourning, he casts his passions towards a young ballerina who uncannily resembles his beloved; and the city of Bruges, where he identifies images of his wife in its beauty and melancholy, but also his ...more
Pete daPixie
Jan 05, 2016 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
My introduction to the writing of Georges Rodenbach comes in two parts. A very short novella 'Bruges-la-Morte' and a shorter essay 'The Death Throes of Towns'. The latter displays similar images of Bruges as the main story.
Very poetic prose full of allegory and symbolism. Desolate, yet eminently readable. The text is accompanied throughout with photographic scenes of the city.
Having visited Bruges on two occasions I can state that it is not the image that Rodenbach portrays. Perhaps with its com
Jan 25, 2020 rated it liked it  ·  review of another edition
Fairly on the nose. Some decent parts but overall felt melodramatic. A friend called it “Vertigo in Belgium” and he wasn’t wrong.
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Georges Rodenbach was born in Tournai to a French mother and a German father from the Rhineland (Andernach). He went to school in Ghent at the prestigious Sint-Barbaracollege, where he became friends with the poet Emile Verhaeren. Rodenbach worked as a lawyer and journalist. He spent the last ten years of his life in Paris as the correspondent of the Journal de Bruxelles, and was an intimate of Ed ...more

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“The widower reviewed his past in a sunless light which was intensified by the greyness of the November twilight, whilst the bells subtly impregnated the surrounding atmosphere with the melody of sounds that faded like the ashes of dead years.” 13 likes
“As he walked, the sad faded leaves were driven pitilessly around him by the wind, and under the mingling influences of autumn and evening, a craving for the quietude of the grave … overtook him with unwanted intensity.” 12 likes
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