Book Review:

Abstract

In Les Contemplations Hugo moves from dawn to the edge of infi nity, the collection pivoting on the three-year gap between the second and third poems in Book IV when he learns of the death of his beloved daughter. At the beginning of Les Fleurs du mal Baudelaire warns readers that they resemble him on his voyage of discovery through aspirations and ennui, ending in the dandyish wish for Death to provide 'du nouveau'somewhat undercut by 'Le Rêve d'un curieux' which had left the disappointed dreamer stranded eternally in suspense.Les Amours jaunes is even more perfectly organized. Corbière, too, steers towards Death. The fi nal poem in the penultimate section is indeed 'La Fin' and twists 'Oceano Nox': Hugo's waves merely whisper to the widows whereas Corbière treats the drowned sailors as heroes who escaped the imprisonment of a coffi n unlike the 'terriens parvenus'. This, though, is paradoxically not 'the end'. The last section, 'Rondels pour après', provides some of the purest poetry ever written. Here, the sickly poet of the preceding pages -unhappy in love, misunderstood, rejected -becomes post mortem one who, using light as a saddle, has become 'beau décrocheur d'étoiles'.When I reviewed Christopher Pilling's dazzlingly successful translations for Modern Poetry in Translation, it seemed to me that These Jaundiced Loves misleads the English reader. Although there are poems in wan moods, showing jealousy, lit by malevolent moonlight, offering 'un rire jaune', there is so much that is positive -sunlight on Breton gorse, the glitter of gold, a girl's blonde hair. Just as a theme in music will be contorted into a new key, become minor, sourer, disconcerting, so Corbière's gaiety will modulate into bitterness -and back again.Katherine Lunn-Rockliffe falls into the same trap, focusing mostly on the negative aspects of the title. But, in this mode, she offers superb explications de texte, teasing out each layer of irony, entering completely into the glow and inventiveness of the poetry. Her knowledge of French idioms and period slang provides splendid elucidations. Analysing 'Veder Napoli' (and she has unearthed a fourth manuscript of this edgily erudite poem), she stresses, ' 'Passer au bleu', meaning 'launder', puns on the stereotypical blue sky. 'Passer au bleu' also means 'make disappear' and thus anticipates the ultimate theft of the luggage. She is excellent on the heartrending 'Le Mousse'; on 'A une camarade'