Renée VivienBesprekingen

Woman of the Wolf and Other Stories is a collection of short stories with an obvious agenda: Men are the bane of women and life is way better off without them. I don't blame Vivien a bit--being a lesbian in the 1900s was probably rife with annoying men, be it from the terrible misogyny or inability to understand female sexuality. The stories are mostly in the vein of men pursuing women with no interest to them; it's (hilariously) written in their point of view of these men baffled and overreaching in their goal of basically obtaining these women, and Vivien's analysis is spot on. We never get the women's point of view, and it shows that her writing was for women who could relate to these persistent men.

Another story I loved was "Prince Charming", a story told in fairly tale style with a fabulous twist ending, and the story "The Jewel(?)" with the gorgeous Madame pulling a knife on a man forcing himself on her was BADASS. Vivien writes female characters not as complex as some feminist writers do, but in roles earlier denied them. The women in her stories are martyrs: they die for what they believe in, the are stronger than the men that balk to their roles, and they are otherworldly in power and beauty. They fight for their autonomy and won't shrink from their passion. It's crazy cool.

Anyways, it's gorgeous, but hell did Vivien hate men. I don't blame her living in the time that she did, but its virulence does make me laugh--her writing can be ridiculous. 4/5 stars because I thought too many of the stories were too similar and the female characters were not particularly "deep". There wasn't much character in them other than their goal of putting men in their place.

What a hazy, beautiful little story. It's odd. It's a bit terrifying. It's also somewhat uncomfortable. But damn, was it beautiful. Renée could write a sentence, believe me. Formal rtc.

A lovely little selection of Vivien's work. I particularly loved "Words to a Lover", "You for Whom I Wrote", and "The Touch". This publication has two translators (occasionally including the same poems), with the first have carried by Margaret Porter and the latter by Catherine Kroger. Both have very different styles of translations, with Porter creating an English rhyme scheme to mimic Vivien's, while Kroger adhering more to a literal one. I'll illustrate with "You for Whom I Wrote:

Songerez-vous, parmi le désordre charmant
De vos cheveux épars, de vos robes défaites :
« Cette femme, à travers les sanglots et les fêtes,
A porté ses regards et ses lèvres d’amant. » (original)

Will you sit dreaming, amid the charming disarray
Of disheveled hair, open robes, of hers you never discover
Wherever you look: "Whether on day of mourning or festival day,
This woman wore always her glance, her lips of a lover." (Porter)

Will you dream, amongst the charming disorder
Of your scattered hair, and your undone robes:
"This woman, through tears and joy
Maintained her gaze and her lover's lips." (Kroger)

I really loved Catherine Kroger's translations—conservative while still enamoring, all while keeping Vivien's original French flavor we've all come to love (though I must forworn I am a literalist when it comes to translations). And just in case you're not reading with translation difficulties in mind or want to show a friend a poem that's probably more readable than Kroger's, Porter is still there to savor and pin-up without looking like a tasteless academic freak.

I recommend for people interested in Vivien's work to check out A Crown of Violets first, especially the new 2017 edition as it contains so many poems with the advantage of the dual French-English format for reference (and because I know how hard it is to get a copy of this if you don't want to pay an exorbitant sum). Very lovely little gem of queer female history I am so proud to own and enjoy!

I read this translation for my AP Research paper, which made it a bit difficult due to Pious' sometimes (rather) liberal translation, but I am so glad at the side by side french for reference. It bothered me at times to always have to look over and make sure the wording was similar enough for me to take as fact for the sake of my paper, but it does lend itself to casual English reading. Pious tries to recreate the rhyme scheme and does hold the original flavor of the poem in it, but if you can read the French well enough there shouldn't be a reason to read it, obviously. My French (and French poetry vocabulary at that) isn't good enough yet to go solely on her original poetry to quickly refer back to things for researching, so the book was good for me. Read the French if you're unsure of her translations, but enjoy them nevertheless if you can.

"We hate the Mob, the Law, and the World": Renee Vivien (Pauline Mary Tarn) was a curious personality from the period of the French decadence (Read Colette's The Pure and The Impure, and Karla Jay's study, The Amazon and the Page). A Crown of Violets is a collection of sensual (and incendiary) verse, after the manner of Sappho (literally invoked in some of the poems). Samantha Pious, in capturing both the sense and the meter of Renee Vivien's poetry, has rendered it both beautiful and sensible to readers of English.½

roman autobiographique que j'adore ...

ce livre est une traduction d'un de mes livres "A l'heure des mains jointes" (1906)... traduction non faite par mes soins car moi et l'anglais, ça fait deux ...

A Woman Appeared to Me is Vivien's carthartic effort surrounding the death of her friend Violet Shilleto and Vivien's stormy (and ultimately failed) relationship with Natalie Barney. In sixty odd pages Vivien attempts to come to terms with her loss, though one gets the distinct impression that she rather enjoys not coming to terms with it. That's kind of the point--sometimes the suffering from a lost love is more palpable and fulfilling than the love itself.

When I picked up this book, I was expecting it to be a kissing cousin of Djuna Barnes' Nightwood. It isn't and for a surprising reason. For all of Vivien's clout as an underrated poet, A Woman Appeared to Me is surprisingly less literate than Nightwood. Vivien's heavy-handed use of metaphor and symbolism comes across as overdone against the backdrop of a story that feels excessively puerile in its emotional content. This stands in sharp contrast to Barnes' linguistic contortions that makes the suffering in Nightwood so uniquely told.

Literary style aside, A Woman Appeared to Me is interesting insofar as it provides yet another glimpse into the heady lesbian angst rampant amongst Natalie Barney's Round Table. Enjoy it alongside your daily dose of Djuna Barnes' pathos, Romaine Brooks' dark solitude, and Dolly Wilde's charming self-destruction.½