Reviews for La-Bas, Lower Depths

The average rating for La-Bas, Lower Depths based on 2 reviews is 5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2014-07-16 00:00:00 William Lindborg La-bas (English Down There)--with its explicit account of child sex-murders and its detailed description of a black mass—may benefit from its transgressive reputation but also suffers from it too. Readers who come to it seeking thrills and horrors will be alternately bored and disappointed, while serious readers, concerned—as Huymans was—with the spiritual and moral decline of civilization may be repelled by the books' shocking incidents and never read it at all. Outwardly, the book's author Huymans led an uneventful life, working as a civil servant at the Ministry of the Interior for thirty-two years. For the last two-thirds of his government career, however, he was also a prolific novelist. This Zola-style naturalist eventually decided to depict in Against the Grain a decadent, self-involved aesthete by the name of des Esseintes, and—although he used the naturalistic method to do so—he found himself spurned by the Naturalists, embraced by the Symbolists, and forever associated with the career of the notorious Oscar Wilde. This association is unfortunate, for it tends to obscure the fact that Huysmans, underneath his ornate and allusive style, is still a committed naturalist who chooses as his subject matter, neither the coal miners of Northern France nor the whores of Paris, but a gentleman who—bored with a materialistic culture—explores spirituality where he can find it—whether “up here” or “down there.” Durtal, the gentleman of La-bas, survives the empty lust of an adulterous liaison and the grubby horror of the black mass his married lover Hyacinthe takes him to, and finds himself disgusted by both. He does, though, discover evidence of spirituality both “up” and “down”: “up” (literally) in a Paris church steeple, in the life and opinions of an old bell ringer (who mourns the ancient days when each bell had a name and his profession was considered a spiritual discipline) and “down” in the confession of the child murderer Gilles de Rais and his reunion—before his execution—with the Church. I found the spiritual journey of Durtal informative and moving, and—yes—I really liked those cool transgressive parts too. I look forward to his three subsequent adventures, as he grows closer to Catholicism and eventually re-enters the church. If you wish to get an idea of Huysmans' style, there are marvelous set pieces here which may be enjoyed by themselves: the descriptions of Matthias Grunewald's Crucifixion (my favorite), the ruined castle of de Rais, the black mass itself—come immediately to mind. I prefer to end, however, with the aftermath of the child murderer's confession, the spiritual core of the novel: Until now, he had remained standing, speaking as if in a fog, recounting aloud to himself the memories of his imperishable crimes. But when he was finished, his strength abandoned him. He fell on his knees and shaking with fearful sobs he cried: “Oh God, my Redeemer, I beg your mercy and your pardon!” Then this savage and haughty baron, undoubtedly the first among his peers, prostrated himself. He turned toward the people and said in tears: “You, the parents of those whom I have so cruelly put to death, give me, oh give me the support of your pious prayers!” Then, in its pure white splendour, the soul of the Middle Ages shone out in that hall. Jean de Malestroit left his seat and lifted up the accused, who was beating his forehead desperately on the flagstones. The judge within him disappeared: only the priest remained: he embraced the guilty man who was repenting and bewailing his sin... And the entire hall knelt and prayed for the assassin.

Review # 2 was written on 2015-06-22 00:00:00 Robert Patton “Really, when I think it over, literature has only one excuse for existing; it saves the person who makes it from the disgustingness of life.” ― Joris-Karl Huysmans, Là-Bas Barbey d'Aurevilly compared Joris-Karl Huysmans to Baudelaire, recalling: "After Les Fleurs du mal I told Baudelaire it only remains for you to choose between the muzzle of the pistol and the foot of the Cross. But will the author of À rebours make the same choice?" His prediction eventually proved true when Huysmans converted to Catholicism in the 1890s. Là-Bas was published in 1891. Perhaps this novels serves as the author's statement on just how far he wanted to separate himself from Émile Zola and naturalism. Indeed, Là-Bas has a particular Catholic flavor, but remains within the tradition of Decadent literature. Here are several Decadent themes one will find within its pages: Hatred of positivism, materialism and commercialism The first chapter of Là-Bas begins with a serious rip into Émile Zola, naturalism and the "the Americanization of culture." Those French Decadents like Huysmans could see cable cars, telegraph wires, mass production, gadgets of every stripe taking over cities, reducing culture to reading newspapers, a round of vulgar, utilitarian tastes, shallow optimism and a complete lack of spirituality. On several occasions throughout the novel, Huysmans-like main character, Durtal, bemoans the mechanized, routinized, money-grubbing modern world. Rise above the grimy ruck After ascending a church tower to listen to the bells and meet Carhaix, the bell ringer, Durtal reflects, “What inconceivable happiness it would be to escape from the age, and, while the waves of human folly were breaking against the foot of the tower, to sit up here, out of it all, and pore over antique tomes by the shaded light of a lamp.” By his desire to transcend to a higher, more rarified, refined aesthetic plane, Durtal expresses perfectly the Decadent affinity with German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer. Explore extreme sensations and intense enjoyments Durtal is both repelled and fascinated by Satanism, sadism and the Black Mass. The interplay of mysticism and the diabolical arts is at the core of Là-Bas. A hefty portion of the novel follows Durtal’s current writing project – the life of Gilles de Rais, nobleman, captain, supported Joan of Arc, who in middle age, as if someone flipped a modern-day electrical switch, transformed into a sadistic demon and coward. And, to add a fascinating twist, Durtal reports how Gilles de Rais was a connoisseur and collector of fine art and arcane books, luxurious fabric and rare gems, aromatic wines and spiced foods, that he was “the Des Esseintes of the fifteenth century!” (Des Esseintes being the main character in À rebours, cult favorite for aesthetes both then and now). Rich language Ah, the lavish, lush, luxuriant vocabulary of those French Decadents, writers like Villiers de l'Isle-Adam and Jean Lorrain. As one would suspect, Là-Bas maintains the gold standard – from the first pages: patois, ferruginous, tetanic, lenitive, perfervid, vituperate, fluvial, tumefied, gimsy, exsurrected, pusillanimous, ecstasized. La femme “She was so mysterious, so enticing,” Durtal resumed to himself. “Her eyes, remote, deep as space, and reflecting cemeteries and festivals at the same time. And she has shown herself up for all she is, within an hour. All the nastiness of women unite in her to exasperate me.” No surprise, being a novel of decadence, at the heart of the heart of Là-Bas is one Hyacinthe Chantelouve. The horrible and disturbing Là-Bas is soaking in the horrible and the disturbing. One quote from Mms. Chantelouve will suffice to whet a reader’s appetite: “I know that my ideas are not the ideas of the world I live in, and they appear not to be yours, but I have an iron will and bend the people who love me.” Spirit possession, anyone? On a personal note, I myself was not raised Catholic nor do I have any connection with the Catholic church or Catholic religion, but, having said that, reading this novel was one powerful, gripping experience.