Vivant Denon (1747–1825)

"One of the loveliest pieces of French prose," writes Milan Kundera in a blurb on this book's cover. Why not read it, I think? I skip, for the moment, the long intro as I am afraid of spoilers, and set off on this very slight 'diversion' that details an intimate, yet playful, seduction in the French court in, say, the late 18th century. In this slight yet alluring tale the reader's challenge is to determine just who is seducing whom: the older, womanly sophisticate, or the younger rakish lothario? So, there I was, the torrid pages growing hot and heavy, eagerly turning to page 37, when the text suddenly changes to French! What happened? It seems I had just read the entire book (or was it a novella or even a short story?), whose editor kindly decided to include the original French version as well. Sadly, for me, when I am sauntering down the broad boulevards of Paris, and some women gesture in my direction, saying, "Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi," I can only jauntily reply, "Me no speak the language!" But my thanks to the translator for her noble effort. And the once ignored intro told me more about author Vivant Denon; apparently, other than writing this one delectable bit of prose, he assembled the great art collections inside the Louvre. And I can also state that I am "woke" enough to realize that this makes him, not an aesthete, but a looter and a plunderer!… (mais)

A very short story that was at least probably written by Vivant Denon, who is better known for having assembled the art Napoleon stole while waging war across Europe in the Louvre. It’s touted as being a masterpiece of seduction and stylishly erotic, but I have to say, it’s so incredibly short that there isn’t enough time for true seduction to take place. It was refreshing that the book was not misogynistic as others in this genre and time period often are, and I liked how the woman was in control, keeping her husband and her official lover under control while she manipulated a young man into a tryst one evening. However, it still reads as male fantasy, and a pretty thin one at that. There is something to be said for the simplicity, and indeed, the morality of the exchange of pleasure and desire without entanglement or regard for ‘tomorrow’.

Just this quote, on ‘after’:
“Besides, I’ve exhausted all the resources a heart possesses to bind you. What could you still hope for from me now? What could you still desire? And if a woman leaves a man with nothing to desire or to hope, what will become of her? I have given you everything I could; perhaps one day you will forgive me for the pleasures that, once the moment of intoxication has passed, return you to the severity of your judgment.”… (mais)