Read My Mother/Madame Edwarda/The Dead Man by Georges Bataille Yukio Mishima Ken Hollings Online


My Mother is a unique bildungsroman of a young man's sexual initiation and corruption by his mother.?Publishers WeeklyMy Mother, Madame Edwarda and The Dead Man comprises three short pieces of erotic prose that fuse elements of sex and spirituality in a highly personal vision of the flesh. They present a world of sensation in which only the vaulting demands of disruptive eMy Mother is a unique bildungsroman of a young man's sexual initiation and corruption by his mother.?Publishers WeeklyMy Mother, Madame Edwarda and The Dead Man comprises three short pieces of erotic prose that fuse elements of sex and spirituality in a highly personal vision of the flesh. They present a world of sensation in which only the vaulting demands of disruptive excess and the anguish of heightened awareness can combat the stultifying world of reason and social order. Each of the narratives contains a sense of intoxication and insanity so carefully delineated by the author that it seems to infect the reader.Philosopher, novelist and critic, Georges Bataille is a major figure in twentieth-century literature whose startling and original ideas increasingly exert a vital influence on the shaping of thought, language and experience. Best known outside France for the vertiginous sexual delirium of his short novel, Story of the Eye, the vast scope of Bataille's interests and intellect made him a major force in many spheres.Bataille's essays range over such diverse topics as economics, psychoanalysis, Marxism, yoga and anthropology. His critical essays, Literature and Evil and his complex meditations on the dark coupling of sex and death, Eroticism, are both available from Marion Boyars. Bataille's available fiction includes L'Abbé C, a twisted document detailing the holy horrors of sex and Blue of Noon, now an established modern classic in its seventh printing....

Title : My Mother/Madame Edwarda/The Dead Man
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ISBN : 9780714530048
Format Type : Paperback
Number of Pages : 224 Pages
Status : Available For Download
Last checked : 21 Minutes ago!

My Mother/Madame Edwarda/The Dead Man Reviews

  • Mariel
    2019-04-29 10:15

    In this lifeless world what else was there for me to do but forget the searing light whose glare had blinded me when I had felt my mother in my arms? But I already knew that it was not going to be forgotten, ever. - 'My Mother'Degradation gave birth to him and can take it back. Grunting copulation, squealing pigs meat house. Everybody cries when baby is born. His mother gets further away as the father is further away. Death is over or the sweaty affairs. Don't walk away when I am oozing pain like slow motion wife snails. Widow's weeds and lofty words closer to God or Hell trail from her posing like choking on old women's cigarettes. Mother and son have each other. She never shuts up. I will never believe you anyway so choose sides of my mythic head. I love you and I hate you. A script returns him to the womb of humiliation. She talks so much. The words steal from other truths, scabbing over knees in scrawl. A bird's nest won't fly. If he knows her filth and only then. I can't see the secret world infrared in the funhouse of love triangles, thin lines and hate, the pentagons and sharp edges of squares. I know she will cut you, bitch. He talks too much too. He lives by her words. I don't find much less erotic than stand right here, I got this itch in my mind. Get in front of my smoke vision, if you could just. Like that possession. His mother sets him up with her laughing friends. Everybody laughs from dark knowledge and the skin crawling gives him his days. I didn't care about the super rich and super beautiful let's have sex all of the time every day Hansi. Her "maid", her schoolgirl friend, does not make Hansi more beautiful in her worship. Doesn't add another dimension to her room. Her stand right there, just like that, I have this want to happen bent. Hansi doesn't want to have them crawl for her and her boyfriend and girlfriend live in plots. She's almost a real person, resist the script, but then her bubble of gilded fades her away for me again. She couldn't be real, this escape from his mother's will. I don't believe him when she is his something to lose. She was there to role play he had something to lose so that it would feel the thrill of dream come true when his mother's laughter is Beetlejuiced enough to be flesh. I don't feel the shock in it was his mother. Some people have mothers who love and care for them. Some don't. It doesn't help saying that, though. It is enough to make "my mother" as a ceiling a crumble and left overs. There's a past knowledge that is just meaningless sick. I still feel sick remembering when my mother publicly humiliated little kid me by bringing up baby body exploration in front of other people. I won't forget the knowledge and the judgement, the can't make her shut up deriding laughter. 'My Mother' is just like that the surviving the you can try to talk so much you can rebirth anything in your own image but it isn't going to work like that. There's a womb mold you can't break. The origins of the dream were powerful as much as I cannot abide the revisiting the scene of the crime let's make it a sex game. Behind the first time high he isn't going to get back is the first time he is dirty kneed in the altar of his father's forbidden photographs. A look in a victim's eye. Was it a stage that steals the prey's death in the jaws that never dies. Don't let it be true, don't make me like her. He had already lost his way in the laughter and this is a haunting of a decision that will not be spontaneous, not this time. Every rebirth is more dead meat. Madame Edwarda went on ahead of me, raised up until the very clouds... The room's noisy unheeding of her happiness, of the measured gravity of her step, was royal consecration and triumphal holiday: death itself was guest at the feast, was there in what whorehouse nudity terms the pig-sticker's stab. - Madame EdwardaHe comes to Madame Edwarda with drunken cock in hand. Her pink and hairy crack. She calls herself God. Under the void sky, the roving eyes of public world in world. Right here with the others. He calls it making love in the whorehouse. In this ceiling cracks she's God's tracing. He follows her as an animal into the streets again. He loses her, a fading laughter. The sky changes its depth in missing tears. Her naked body out of water, barren land fish. Yukio Mishima's essay "Georges Bataille and Divinus Deus" compared this to Jean Genet glorification of filth. Totally. I always felt like Jean Genet's altar of dark was in place of having nothing else, though. That he had to glorify the scars or else. If you stop swimming in the shark bowl for a moment you will choke on the filth. Genet's prostitutes and sailors are Hansi and the time capsule of the mouse in hawk mouth. Jesus weeps and the church isn't his house. Genet can be tedious as hell in crying too long but his writing as the power of living in names. Dream dies so count sheep, pitch dark bleating, as long as it takes. I've read lots of Genet and this was my first Bataille. Bataille was a relief to me too going straight for the stick swallow. There's something else that is no choice that's not resurrection in conditions of incarnadine mind limits. I get from Bataille a conscious direction that Genet didn't have. Why do you resurrect the murders when you are feeling good? So you won't feel good, to bring some terrible life see-saw in no rug balance? I have no idea but do it. Stop before the enduring where is the heading for the hole in your head. Will I be reproached if I have the weakness, finally, to confess that at present the kind of insignificance I am gradually turning into, which, I think, I have turned into, by now even lacks the meaning my last phrase, 'a violent silence', takes on? An instant ago, beside me, in a mirror, I caught sight of an empty face: my face. It does not have the meaning of a violent silence. Through the window what I am really watching is 'the multitudinous smiling of the sea'. - Dead ManMarie's dead husband in the room had dying wished her nakedness. Into the world's small world she goes, naked stillness. They will see. Marie is singing desperately and a working girl is work sad singing. In dark crying, she has a coat to be naked again. Men are taking it in for themselves. Drunken cocks, standing for no attention. Golden showers and flesh puppets can't wash away the expression behind theirs. Never mind about them and their sucking. She is naked. 'The Dead Man' is a real cinema of outsides helpless to the insides boiling. Rising up lava bodily fluids. Did you see the Lynne Ramsay film Under the Skin from the 1990s? Samantha Morton's grieving daughter is this inhabiting the skin world. When Marie's smiles mean something it is like this for me. The what makes tick is a clock hitting all slow motion possibilities. The end of your life flashes before their cock's eyes. Bataille is so damned good.

  • Tosh
    2019-05-22 06:05

    I am a big fan of Georges Bataille's fiction. He borders on the creepy of course, but its his intelligence that is seductive. I wish he was alive now. He's someone I would like to meet and have a cup of coffee with. Would he drink coffee? Yukio Mishima wrote the introduction to this book which is worth the price of the volume.

  • Clara Olausson
    2019-05-22 07:56

    my mother!!!!!!!!!trots att att slutet är... oklart :)så är jag så... imponeradrörd! störd!!!!replikerna!!!! #teamvisomönskabatailleskrevdramatik

  • Emm
    2019-05-19 06:15

    Bataille is great. The Dead Man was my favorite in this collection (and it's format on the page is fantastic!) but I think I prefer reading Batailles theoretical works to his fiction--their just so much more sumptuously beautiful.

  • Jason
    2019-05-08 05:13

    "Ma Mere" is the gem here. One of the great French novellas.

  • Michael A.
    2019-04-27 08:18

    Horrifyingly erotic tales, but what else to expect from Bataille's fiction? Yukio Mishima's opening essay is a lucid summary and analysis of My Mother and Madame Edwarda, while Ken Hollings's essay is an explication and interpretation of the components of Bataille's eroticism in general. Mishima's essay is clear and easy to comprehend, Hollings's is more academic and tougher to grasp. Both were good and added something extra to the three great short stories within.

  • Meanderer
    2019-05-15 10:55

    Surreal in a very French way.

  • Dan
    2019-05-05 06:05

    Bataille is an analyst of the erotic, and in these narratives he explores and exploits the transformative and sometimes destructive power of sex. While his association of violence with eroticism may remind some of the Marquis de Sade, one significant difference between the two writers is that Bataille does not focus as much as de Sade does on representing the details of the sexual act itself; rather, Bataille emphasizes the moral and cultural context in which the sexual act occurs. Moreover, in contrast to conventional pornography, Bataille is not interested so much in the The Kama Sutra Of Vatsayayana possibilities of sex, or in such devices as promiscuity or jealousy, but in the unpredictable changes that sex may cause in an individual.Bataille’s writing reflects an interesting relation between language and carnality that may remind one of Jean Genet’s work: while the situation Bataille depicts may be obscene, the language is seldom less than literary, suggesting that it is the obscenity that makes the beautiful language possible. Here is a sample quote from “My Mother”: “Rhea failed to enact the whole of that ludicrous sacrifice; at any rate from the unlimited gift she made of her body, of the intimacy and gleefulness of her joy, she chose to except the usual thoroughfare to the limited operation.” There are lines more poetic in the book (and more prosaic), but I mention this one as an example of the way that Bataille is able to camouflage the representation of an erotic act in the language of religion, economics and technical jargon.

  • Sean
    2019-05-24 09:23

    My Mother was the highlight here for me, although the other two pieces were close behind. The critical essays were also helpful in providing context, as this was my first Bataille and I had only a vague impression of his preoccupations beforehand. I think I will read deeper into his catalog before forming a definite opinion on him, though. When it comes to eroticism in fiction I tend to prefer a 'less is more' approach, where the action remains an implicit blur for the reader to wonder about and perhaps even yearn toward, as fulfillment stands far off in the distance. Bataille, however, is more prone to plunging immediately into the physical and, once there, rolling around lustily in the resultant fluids. While I appreciate his intellectual approach to writing the explicit, I can't always parse his underlying motivations, which makes the reading experience less meaningful. Clearly there is a lot going on behind Bataille's scenes, but with these texts I was only receiving flashes of resonance, rather than a full dawn of comprehension. And as a reader, it is one experience to either understand or think one understands the meanings behind a writer's work, and a completely different one to also connect with that work on a personal level. Based on what I do know now of Bataille's themes, I suspect I would be a candidate for the former category. But that being said, there are elements of his prose here that I much admired, and enough that I'd like to investigate further.

  • Stephen Durrant
    2019-05-02 10:58

    Georges Bataille was a highly controversial French writer, and the first of these novelettes, "My Mother," reads fairly easily in the original French ("Ma Mere"). Like all of his work, this is slim book is deeply disturbing. A mother sets out to corrupt her young son. She wants to disabuse him of the notion that she is virtuous and that his now deceased father is the cause of the family's unhappiness. She demands that he love her not as a naive imagination but in all her drunken and sexually promiscuous reality. This corruption includes incest, and while the situation is deeply troubling, "My Mother" is not as raw as most of Bataille's work, which is reminiscent of his friend Henry Miller.

  • Alex Sarll
    2019-04-29 11:13

    Bataille was engaged in the sort of terribly *serious* project which seems to come so much more easily to the French, an attempt to sacralise sex - but not in any jolly sense, rather to turn it into the sort of dark, dangerous and unknowable god you find in the work of Lovecraft. Part of me wonders whether the one is the Catholic counterpart to the Puritan-descended other - just as Lovecraft describes squid-like creatures in a way that leaves one fairly confident he has issues with vaginas, so once here Bataille compares a vagina to a squid. Majestic, albeit also bonkers. As with Mishima (an article by whom is reprinted here by way of an introduction), he's one of the very few writers reading whom I can understand the feelings of people who get scared by immoral books.

  • Ben Arzate
    2019-05-02 11:22

    While I'd recommend starting with Story of the Eye with Bataille, this is a good follow up if you enjoy that book. Bataille pulsates with a Sadean energy. I once read somewhere that Bataille is not an author who just engages you, he possesses and rots you from the inside like syphilis. I can't think of a better way to describe him. Full Review

  • Joel Alexander
    2019-05-06 08:04

    My Mother was the gem. Not sure i was able to fully grasp the depth of the other stories. Regardless, Bataille is an inspiring genius that violently and passionately takes on the erotic and grotesque.

  • Jonathan Lee B.
    2019-05-09 04:01

    My Mother/Madame Edwarda/The Dead Man is a secret handshake you share with your 1-3 friend(s) who have also read it.

  • Valerie
    2019-05-13 05:02

    Fabulously perverted. Devastating, crawling skin-inducing, and soul crushing. Everything I look for in a good read.

  • Nikki
    2019-05-17 09:10

    2/5 Madame Edwarda, 3/5 The Dead Man

  • Tara Newton
    2019-05-18 05:20

    hypnotic erotic frolic

  • Louis
    2019-05-15 02:57

    Most interesting for Mishima's introductory essay.

  • Stine
    2019-05-17 07:10


  • A
    2019-05-11 09:14

    It will never leave my head.

  • Jason
    2019-04-24 08:14

    Madame Edwarda and the associated preface were the real gems here.

  • Jason Anthony
    2019-05-02 05:21

    I would give this 10 stars if I could. My Mother sticks out the most.