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A Little Girl Dreams of Taking the Veil
In the course of browsing an illustrated book of objects—umbrellas, watches, tools, clothes—artist Max Ernst was struck by the items' unusual juxtapositions. By manipulating the Victorian-era engravings into striking tableaux and adding brief captions, Ernst invented the collage novel and transformed banal advertising art into revealing dramas rooted in his dreams and secret desires.
A Little Girl Dreams of Taking the Veil was originally published in 1930 as Rêve d'une petite fille qui voulut entrer au Carmel. Its hallucinatory visions center on the nightmares of a girl who loses her virginity on the day of her first communion and resolves to become a nun. Ernst, a pioneer of the Dada movement and Surrealistic art, blends humor and irony in his exploration of the nonrational but very real intersection of religious ecstasy and erotic desire. A century after its debut, this profoundly peculiar book retains its shock value as well as its imaginative power.
A Little Girl Dreams of Taking the Veil was originally published in 1930 as Rêve d'une petite fille qui voulut entrer au Carmel. Its hallucinatory visions center on the nightmares of a girl who loses her virginity on the day of her first communion and resolves to become a nun. Ernst, a pioneer of the Dada movement and Surrealistic art, blends humor and irony in his exploration of the nonrational but very real intersection of religious ecstasy and erotic desire. A century after its debut, this profoundly peculiar book retains its shock value as well as its imaginative power.
176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1930
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380 people want to read
About the author
Max Ernst
156 books99 followersMax Ernst was a German painter, sculptor, graphic artist, and poet, considered one of the chief representatives of Dadaism and Surrealism.
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Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews
November 5, 2017
Back in print - lovely and affordable edition from Dover Books!
March 11, 2024
What the fuck.
July 24, 2020
How do I even describe this book? Can I even try? Dare I? I wonder if my Dad ever read this cover to cover or if it was merely a book he bought as an art reference. Unsolved mystery, that.
This is definitely a book that needs to be seen. On the one hand, I would say one might appreciate this book more for it's collage artwork than for the story but the story is definitely integral to one's understanding of the illustrative narrative. And even then a part of me is pondering, "what did I read? What did I think I just read? Am I right thinking the artist's intention was what I think he was thinking? What are the images saying?" And so in circles, I do go.
The collages are cobbled together almost but not quite seamlessly and therein lies the jarring fever dream quality. True, I found it distracting when I came across an image and wondered "Wait, is that noh mask? Wait, was that lady taken from some Victorian 'Illustrated Police News'?" According to the slip cover, Ernst wove together images from contemporary to historic. Seeing as it's meant to be a series of dreams, one quickly comes to accept that one image may sport two pairs of legs, awkward proportions, outsized arms, bizarre couplings of imagery. In some cases the more one looks, the more weird, disturbing little details we find until it becomes a treasure hunt of sorts.
Imagery wise (and dare I say "story wise"?) the middle sections titled "Hair" and "the Knife" are probably my favorites, but that's probably due to it's more nightmare-ish tone.
As an utter and complete tangent, the ellipses that lead in from page to page reminds me very much of the hand clapping game "Miss Susie had a Steamboat..." in that sometimes the topic does not lead where one might think it would. Then again, does a dream ever lead where we expect?
This is definitely a book that needs to be seen. On the one hand, I would say one might appreciate this book more for it's collage artwork than for the story but the story is definitely integral to one's understanding of the illustrative narrative. And even then a part of me is pondering, "what did I read? What did I think I just read? Am I right thinking the artist's intention was what I think he was thinking? What are the images saying?" And so in circles, I do go.
The collages are cobbled together almost but not quite seamlessly and therein lies the jarring fever dream quality. True, I found it distracting when I came across an image and wondered "Wait, is that noh mask? Wait, was that lady taken from some Victorian 'Illustrated Police News'?" According to the slip cover, Ernst wove together images from contemporary to historic. Seeing as it's meant to be a series of dreams, one quickly comes to accept that one image may sport two pairs of legs, awkward proportions, outsized arms, bizarre couplings of imagery. In some cases the more one looks, the more weird, disturbing little details we find until it becomes a treasure hunt of sorts.
Imagery wise (and dare I say "story wise"?) the middle sections titled "Hair" and "the Knife" are probably my favorites, but that's probably due to it's more nightmare-ish tone.
As an utter and complete tangent, the ellipses that lead in from page to page reminds me very much of the hand clapping game "Miss Susie had a Steamboat..." in that sometimes the topic does not lead where one might think it would. Then again, does a dream ever lead where we expect?
January 29, 2020
Surprisingly, this one is even crazier than his first graphic novel I’ve read, the hundred headless woman.
This time I’ve learned that the images are basically collages, which now makes a lot of sense because of those extraordinary imaginative combinations, which are probably easier to access by combining existing images. Not that it matters because the result is complete, but it’s interesting to think of his technique.
I’ve found some similarities to my favorite author, Clarice Lispector, which was fun to think about and realizing again her power as a surrealist. I wonder if she ever read this book.
I recommend this book to anyone who wants to open up his imagination, and maybe get inspired as an artist himself to the endless possibilities of creating and game.
This time I’ve learned that the images are basically collages, which now makes a lot of sense because of those extraordinary imaginative combinations, which are probably easier to access by combining existing images. Not that it matters because the result is complete, but it’s interesting to think of his technique.
I’ve found some similarities to my favorite author, Clarice Lispector, which was fun to think about and realizing again her power as a surrealist. I wonder if she ever read this book.
I recommend this book to anyone who wants to open up his imagination, and maybe get inspired as an artist himself to the endless possibilities of creating and game.
January 6, 2020
Дополнительное замечание, пришедшее вдруг в голову. Это каким же вандалом был Эрнст в дозироксную эпоху. Сколько старых книжек и картинок под ножницы пустил, паразит. Остается уповать на то, что это была макулатура, конечно.
Но "Сон", конечно, гораздо более цельное и дисциплинированное высказывание, нежели "Женщина", пусть и уступает первому графическому в безалаберном безумии.
Но "Сон", конечно, гораздо более цельное и дисциплинированное высказывание, нежели "Женщина", пусть и уступает первому графическому в безалаберном безумии.
February 4, 2020
My discovery of Max Ernst is among the best things ever to happen to me in a school library. My Middle School had an art history book with three works by Ernst in the section about surrealism, and a massive volume on collage that had samples from Ernst's various collage novels. I was lucky to find "A Week of Happiness" and "A Little Girl Dreams of Taking the Veil" in a Barnes & Noble (this was the 90s and you could still find such things) and this is the one I wound up with.
As transgressive and alternative as this book is, this was actually my "reading" in school and it stayed in my backpack for so long that on rainy days the green from the cover started to wash into my other papers.
Max Ernst has some delightful thoughts on being a bride of Christ, which delivers images of a faceless man running amok screaming "I am God without woman!"
The Victorian woodcut collage is incredible, some of the most enviable examples of the art form. Even if you aren't too interested in the surrealists, this book should make an interesting curiosity.
As transgressive and alternative as this book is, this was actually my "reading" in school and it stayed in my backpack for so long that on rainy days the green from the cover started to wash into my other papers.
Max Ernst has some delightful thoughts on being a bride of Christ, which delivers images of a faceless man running amok screaming "I am God without woman!"
The Victorian woodcut collage is incredible, some of the most enviable examples of the art form. Even if you aren't too interested in the surrealists, this book should make an interesting curiosity.
February 23, 2025
I like this weird little french guy's collage stories :)
September 16, 2025
A Little Girl Dreams of Taking the Veil by Max Ernst:
A peculiar, hallucinatory collage novel by surrealist and Dada artist Max Ernst following the dream of a young girl (I believe 13) who feels called lead the life of God’s bride. You would think a child like that would be quite obedient and one who diminishes and humbles herself excessively but in the written preamble leading up to the collage storytelling portion of the book she appears to be intensely unusual, cryptic, maybe even vainly precocious, and perhaps a little mocking.
The collage art style of Max Ernst is fairly familiar to a contemporary audience (personally I almost liken it to Lorenzo Petrantoni) but would have been incredibly bizarre and possibly nightmarish to Ernest’s audience at the time of publication in 1930. To describe his art with words, just imagine the Victorian era illustrations and woodcuts that bloat the Public Domain which you see John Derian or Cavallini Papers plastering on all their merchandise. Except these individual images are then combined and scrambled together in strange and, at times, sinister scenes. Vivisections of man and animal. Sort of Lovecraftian. But mostly biblical and hellish like Gustave Doré’s woodcuts for The Divine Comedy but add some whimsy and Victorian dandy-ism.
As for the narrative, as one would expect from a Dadaist, it is seemingly very nonsensical and irrational. Yet this format provides an impeccable view into the psyche of a child experiencing the opposing and ever present pulls of religious zeal and erotic ecstasy (think Margery Kempe). This book is sort of outlandish in the way Alice in Wonderland is but perhaps even more incomprehensible and strange. However, I do think there is something being said in here, it’s not pure nonsensical fancy. There are wry and satirical digs on religion and male clergy figures, reflections on the powerlessness of a god without woman (or really any devotees), as well as psychologically keen insight into the fevered psyche of a puberty aged girl indoctrinated into an intense and mystic religion (Catholicism).
If you like this particular art style you should also look up Max Bucaille and Franz Roh.
A peculiar, hallucinatory collage novel by surrealist and Dada artist Max Ernst following the dream of a young girl (I believe 13) who feels called lead the life of God’s bride. You would think a child like that would be quite obedient and one who diminishes and humbles herself excessively but in the written preamble leading up to the collage storytelling portion of the book she appears to be intensely unusual, cryptic, maybe even vainly precocious, and perhaps a little mocking.
The collage art style of Max Ernst is fairly familiar to a contemporary audience (personally I almost liken it to Lorenzo Petrantoni) but would have been incredibly bizarre and possibly nightmarish to Ernest’s audience at the time of publication in 1930. To describe his art with words, just imagine the Victorian era illustrations and woodcuts that bloat the Public Domain which you see John Derian or Cavallini Papers plastering on all their merchandise. Except these individual images are then combined and scrambled together in strange and, at times, sinister scenes. Vivisections of man and animal. Sort of Lovecraftian. But mostly biblical and hellish like Gustave Doré’s woodcuts for The Divine Comedy but add some whimsy and Victorian dandy-ism.
As for the narrative, as one would expect from a Dadaist, it is seemingly very nonsensical and irrational. Yet this format provides an impeccable view into the psyche of a child experiencing the opposing and ever present pulls of religious zeal and erotic ecstasy (think Margery Kempe). This book is sort of outlandish in the way Alice in Wonderland is but perhaps even more incomprehensible and strange. However, I do think there is something being said in here, it’s not pure nonsensical fancy. There are wry and satirical digs on religion and male clergy figures, reflections on the powerlessness of a god without woman (or really any devotees), as well as psychologically keen insight into the fevered psyche of a puberty aged girl indoctrinated into an intense and mystic religion (Catholicism).
If you like this particular art style you should also look up Max Bucaille and Franz Roh.
November 24, 2023
"By manipulating the Victorian-era engravings into striking tableaux and adding brief captions, Ernst invented the collage novel and transformed banal advertising art into revealing dramas rooted in his dreams and secret desires."
I'll give this piece of dadaism credit for some creative boldness and pushing the envelope of convention of its day. But... Wut? This short book was just senseless, not what I was expecting of a "collage novel" fantasy - I was expecting *some sort* of story. There's no attempt at that - no attempt to give it any sense at all, except the loose narrative of a girl dreaming it all. It's not only that the series of scenes makes no sense; the scenes are each described with details that would make it *seem* as if they are *supposed* to make sense. But that's dadaism, isn't it. So if you're one of those people (definitely not of my ingroup) formerly-called "avant garde" who like things like Un Chien Andalou, you'll probably like this. I wonder if there are collage novels with sensible narratives to go with their fantastic images - surely there'd be a bigger market for that.
I'll give this piece of dadaism credit for some creative boldness and pushing the envelope of convention of its day. But... Wut? This short book was just senseless, not what I was expecting of a "collage novel" fantasy - I was expecting *some sort* of story. There's no attempt at that - no attempt to give it any sense at all, except the loose narrative of a girl dreaming it all. It's not only that the series of scenes makes no sense; the scenes are each described with details that would make it *seem* as if they are *supposed* to make sense. But that's dadaism, isn't it. So if you're one of those people (definitely not of my ingroup) formerly-called "avant garde" who like things like Un Chien Andalou, you'll probably like this. I wonder if there are collage novels with sensible narratives to go with their fantastic images - surely there'd be a bigger market for that.
August 10, 2017
Quite possibly the strangest book to ever be created. I can't give it more or less than three stars because I have no idea what I read. Give it a go; the French do have a way with words and the illustrations are very creative, even if the story itself is incredibly symbolic and esoteric.
Want to read
October 9, 2012This looks good
September 12, 2016
Gorgeous
February 3, 2022
A very interesting artistic experiment intermixing image and text, however the story itself is weak and purposely vague and random, in order to match the illustrations
February 28, 2025
Little Girl was worth the price of admission. All Ernst here. It’s a disturbing story of a dream had by a girl who decides to become a nun after losing her virginity on the day of her first communion. The dream blends religious and erotic fervor into a “soft and white” mass (Mass?). The illustrations are fire and the captions roll between absurdly hilarious (see video) and absurdly great.
This was a worthy little break from The Book of Disquiet, which is mind-alteringly fantastic but important enough to read in slow, savory shudders. #2025books
This was a worthy little break from The Book of Disquiet, which is mind-alteringly fantastic but important enough to read in slow, savory shudders. #2025books
March 6, 2025
I have absolutely no idea what this book is about. I wanted to read it because it's the title of a David Sylvian song. Essentially, it's an early example of a graphic novel, a collage novel apparently, with bizarre images and surreal captions that make little sense. To me anyways. I liked the images and can confirm I read the words but I am left wondering what on earth it's all meant to be about. Does that make me a philistine or uncultured? Possibly, who knows.
June 12, 2023
Bizarrerie…
May not make much sense, but this is Max Ernst, surrealist, and painter. The story is merely of the fantastic tale of the girl who dreamed a dream of surrealistic landscapes of collage art Ernst had utilized. Be looking forward to more. It’s not exactly for everybody, but still interesting usage of collage.
May not make much sense, but this is Max Ernst, surrealist, and painter. The story is merely of the fantastic tale of the girl who dreamed a dream of surrealistic landscapes of collage art Ernst had utilized. Be looking forward to more. It’s not exactly for everybody, but still interesting usage of collage.
June 3, 2024
This book is visually gorgeous and textually way less misogynistic than I expected. It's just this strange, strange ride, a bit like looking into a zoetrope through a little hole as it spins, spins, spins. Like watching Něco z Alenky as a little kid.
June 14, 2018
Another fascinating ernst work.
I actually prefer this one to "the hundred headless woman". This one realize more on the narrative and less on the collage work to convey the story.
I actually prefer this one to "the hundred headless woman". This one realize more on the narrative and less on the collage work to convey the story.
December 13, 2018
"We are propagating catastrophes with our flexible hands."
March 21, 2019
"...oh what joy! Here come the leech-charmers!..."
July 12, 2019
This is impossible to review. Rather, one should simply experience the oddity of it in order to feel it.
January 15, 2022
Wow, this was bizarre. It made me uncomfortable from the beginning but I had to see what happened next.
November 24, 2024
My brain is on fire. Where do these images begin and end? I’ll have to revisit this.
August 6, 2018
Not as exciting as 'Une Sermaine...' but it's growing on me.
Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews