Hecate and Her Dogs , set in the 1920s, is the story of a love affair which turns into a nightmare. The narrator, sent to an African country to run a branch of a large French bank, begins a liaison with Clotilde, only to discover in her unexpected and shocking depths of perversity. Tense and bleak, Hecate and Her Dogs is a novella of high literary quality and disconcerting power. This elegant novella of disturbing eroticism was the book with which Morand returned triumphantly to the literary scene in 1954. Paul Morand’s Venices and The Allure of Chanel are also available from Pushkin Press.
Pushkin Collection editions feature a spare, elegant series style and superior, durable components. The Collection is typeset in Monotype Baskerville, litho-printed on Munken Premium White Paper and notch-bound by the independently owned printer TJ International in Padstow. The covers, with French flaps, are printed on Colorplan Pristine White Paper. Both paper and cover board are acid-free and Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certified.
Paul Morand was a French diplomat, novelist, playwright and poet, considered an early Modernist.
He was a graduate of the Paris Institute of Political Studies (better known as Sciences Po). During the pre-war period, he wrote many short books which are noted for their elegance of style, erudition, narrative concision, and for the author's observation of the countries he visited combined with his middle-class views.
Morand's reputation has been marred by his stance during the Second World War, when he collaborated with the Vichy regime and was a vocal anti-Semite. When the Second World War ended, Morand served as an ambassador in Bern, but his position was revoked and he lived in exile in Switzerland.
Post-war, he was a patron of the Hussards literary movement, which opposed Existentialism. Morand went on to become a member of the Académie française; his candidature was initially rejected by Charles de Gaulle, the only instance of a President ever exercising his right to veto electees to the academy. Morand was finally elected ten years later, though he still had to forgo the official investiture).
Paul Morand was a friend of Marcel Proust and has left valuable observations about him.
Some books seem really contemporary, long after they were published. Some, like this one, do not. Not only was Morand a Nazi sympathiser and Petainist, he also palled around with Coco Chanel. The disgust is overpowering. At the same time, Ezra Pound translated him, and Marcel Proust wrote a preface to that volume. The man was a prick, but a talented prick.
This little book, then, will only appeal to people who aren't convinced that bad politics necessarily leads to bad literature, i.e., this book does not seem contemporary. It also doesn't seem contemporary in its, well, gross orientalism, or its narrator's attitude to women.
Are you still here? Have you not unfriended me on goodreads? Well, then, know that despite all that, it's an interesting, short read, which is quite pleasant if you don't mind a bit of overblown Olympian prose, as in this randomly chosen sentence:
"We wallowed and rolled in the trough of depression cause by the confluence of two vast air flows, one oceanic, the other continental."
The book's interest comes from the clash between the style and plot, or perhaps the way they work together, but there's no way to describe that without spoiling the plot. So, plot spoilers ahead.
The narrator meets, and falls for, a woman. He thinks all is hunky dory. It turns out that he isn't satisfying her sexually, perhaps because she's a pedophile. He becomes desperate, and starts to procure children for her. His company hears about this through the grapevine, and sends him home. Years later, he meets her husband, who implies that she's led him down the same path. Finally, he meets her again; she accuses him of depravity; he tells her he's met her husband.
So we're left to wonder, did she lead him down this path, or was it all his own doing? Either way, he clearly was not in control, despite his controlled style. Contemporary readers are just as likely to ask: are the author, and the narrator behind him, both sincerely blaming this woman for their own repulsive instincts?
_ یکی از دیدگاههای غالب بر داستان شرق شناسی است، بانکدار و حسابرسی از اروپا به سمت شرق(از آسیا تا آفریقا، هرجایی به جز اروپا و آمریکا) مأمور می شود تا در آنجا به کسب پول و ثروت برآید. موران توصیفاتی را شرح می دهد که به خوبی بیانگر عقب ماندگی شرق از پیشرفت ها و تحولات است، چه مادی و چه انسانی و چه معنویی. شخصیت اصلی با زنی آشنایی پیدا می کند، در ابتدا همه چیز جنبه خوشگذرانی و معمولی است ولی کم کم احساسات مرد تغییر می کند، او می داند که مردی در گذشته زن وجود دارد، کمی به این در و آن در می زند تا بفهمد قضیه از چه قرار است ولی سکوت های مکرر زن و به نتیجه نرسیدن پرس و جوهای مرد باعث می شود این خیالات از سرش بیفتد. زن کم کم روی دیگری از خود نشان می دهد، در واقع هکات دو رو از خود نشان می دهد، یکی در شب و دیگری در روز، شبها پر از شوق و هوس و تمایل به عشق ورزی با مرد، روزها مرموز و تندخو و پر از امیال زشت و پلید و منحرف. مرد می داند زن عشق و علاقه ای به او ندارد از همین رو سعی میکند علاقه اش را جذب کند و او هم با امیال منحرف و مفسد زن همسو می شود و به او برای رسیدن و ارضای این اعمال کمک می کند. در نهایت رسوایی این اعمال همگی برای مرد نوشته می شود و مجبور به ترک شرق و برگشتن به غرب. حال مرد خود را زخم خورده و له و لورده از این رابطه می پندارد، در یکی از سفرهایش شوهر همان زن را ملاقات می کند و شکی بر دلش می افتد، این که زن خود را به فساد کشانده یا این مرد بوده که باعث مفسد شدن زن شده؟؟ سوالی که در انتهای کتاب بی پاسخ می ماند و این مخاطب است که باید نتیجه گیری کند هرچند که موران، خود نشانه هایی برای کسب نتیجه به ما می دهد. هکات در اسطوره های یونانی، زنی است با سه سر، مار، سگ، و اسب. هکات زنی بوده نیکوکار دارای خوی نیک و سرشت، در نهایت افول می کند. به مانند شخصیت زن داستان. افولی که ریشه در روابط و عوامل انسانی دارد و تاثیرات فردی، اینکه هر شخص چگونه با اعمال و رفتارش می تواند شخص مقابل را دگرگون کند، گاه تاثیر مردیست بر یک زن کا او را به فساد می کشاند، گاهی تاثیر زنی بر مردیست که شهرت و اعتبار و مقام خود را زیرپا میگذارد. نکته مهمی که می خواهم بگویم سانسور گسترده ایست که بر سر این کتاب آمده. صفحات کتاب اصلی حدود یکصد و شصت صفحه تست که در برگردان فارسی، با حساب مقدمه و مؤخره به حدود نود صفحه می رسد،حال ببینید چه می شود. نثر کتاب نثری پیچیده و برای برگردان به فارسی سخت است، که این گنگی ترجمه در بعضی صفحات مشهود است، حال حدود نیمی از کتاب هم که سانسور شده. اگر احیانا و حتما در حین خواندن دچاریجی و کمی گنگی و نامفهومی شدید بدانید علتش چیست. اینکه نویسندگان متفکر و خوب را به جامعه بشناسانیم امری بسیار خوبیست ولی باید دید به چه قیمتی!! به قیمت آش و لاش شدن کتاب؟؟؟
When I first read Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, I was both disgusted and engrossed. The shocking subject matter, gleefully punning unreliable narrator, and Nabokov’s spellbinding sentence-level prowess combined to create a book as repulsive as it was inviting. It was comical, horrific and utterly absorbing - nothing can top this novella - or so I thought.
Hecate and Her Dogs is the story of a man and his mistress. It’s captivating, and it’s beautiful, then it plunges you into icy depths. But not before teasing with words, which saunter ever so lightly, you’re convinced the wickedness alluded to is an imagination. It makes you turn against your own mind, a mental faculty intrigued by scandal, the most perverse, the most gruesome…How dare it wander to such thoughts? Like the narrator, and his disbelief with her criminal suggestions, you don’t know what’s true or what’s false.
Then, a momentary sigh of relief when you realise it’s not you — it’s the author’s words that had shoved you into this corner of internal conflict. Paragraph after incredibly woven and abstract paragraph, you had been had. Spun around a finger. Until, at those very crossroads, the protagonist takes a turn you are unwilling to follow. But, again, silky words reel you back in. So subtle. Monstrosities of moments passed are left behind. Perhaps imagined (again). It’s only when our narrator and when you interact with characters outside of his narration, the realities of Tangier and beyond, that confirmation whips its ugly head.
In conclusion, Hecate and Her Dogs is a rapid fire descent into depravity. A master of his craft, Paul Morand takes readers to unnerving distances in short chapters, in mere sentences and in a single solitary expression. All worthy of a re-read, in segments or in whole, immediately or long after first digesting no matter how disturbing the content. I will warn that this book is not for everyone but despite the fundamental awfulness of its characters and premise, it’s surprisingly...agreeable.
Een korte en bedrieglijke roman, waarbij het 'feitelijk' handelen en observeren van het hoofdpersonage steeds verder onder spanning komt te staan door zijn liefde voor een vrouw met bepaalde seksuele voorkeuren.
This book is a weird narrative about women and the unconscious mind of human. The mind and body of the woman in this story, who is compared to Hecate, is at war with itself between the innocent images of childhood and the images related to erotic love.Two men enter into a relationship with the woman of the story, whose name is Clotilde, and their lives will never be the same after that. The characterization and storytelling tone make the book somewhat among psychological horror books. The narrator's relationship with Clotilde is full of illusion, fear, and domination. Love between them becomes a bond of debauchery and hatred because the woman does not reveal the secret of her debauchery to the man. The author has a pessimistic view of human relations, and I somewhat agree with it. A view that is the result of understanding modernity and shows that man's desires are remarkably unknown to himself and the one he loves. Enduring love in this book is only possible with silence. A shocking silence that leaves the end of the book with one question for us forever: What are we?
Morand's luxurious prose are absolutely breathtaking for about 50 pages, and then the book just plunges off the deep end thematically, where his prose now flip from a blessing the worst curse possible.
Disgusting themes, reprehensible actions, and so much more afflict the protagonists of this novel, whose descent into depravity boggles the mind. The protagonists recovery/healing journey isn't really well earned, and the ending was a little dissatisfying, but I had to stop reading the book on three occasions to write down my notes (it was a library book, so no annotations for me!).
I cannot recommend this book to many people, and mostly just read it as a curiosity because it's OOP and hundreds of dollars on the secondary market. It's def not worth that, but it's free from the library, and that was totally fine.
Schandaalroman uit 1954 waarin een Franse vertegenwoordiger naar Noord-Afrika wordt gestuurd om daar voor een lokale afdeling van een Franse bank te gaan werken en een aan de oppervlakte vrij normale vrouw genaamd Clotilde daar plots een eind aan zijn gestructureerd bestaan maakt. Het middelste derde van het boek legde voor mij iets te veel de nadruk op beschrijvingen van de amoureuze koortsdroom van de protagonist, maar vooral het laatste deel maakt veel goed.
De roman bevat vrij verregaande materie (Clotilde "offert" jonge kinderen) maar het wordt interessant wanneer je dit leest als het relaas van een seksuele pathologie waarbij de ik-figuur de schuld bij een ander legt: Clotilde is de reden waarom hij op den duur ook naar kinderen op zoek gaat.
Could have ended better. It seems to be a mystery by me of the significance. I was a challenging read. I think it is a bit outlandish and a tad dated. Language is complex and compelling you do seem to agree with the authors perspective most of the novel. Mixed feelings about the power of Coltide.
Malgré que ce soit très classique, c'est bien écrit. Une Belle découverte, notamment pour les belles descriptions d'architecture, évocatrices des sentiments que l'on peut ressentir dans un bâtiment, une maison...