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hamaonoverdrive's review against another edition
dark
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0
This is... an experience. Some of the fun of reading older works is to see how parts of the human experience have remained the same across time and cultures, and quite frankly a lot of the scenes in this book wouldn't feel out of place in some R18[G] doujin. What you wouldn't see in those works, however, is the philosophical tirades that De Sade sandwiches between each scene. De Sade uses the many characters that the protagonist encounters as mouthpieces for libertineism, preaching the value of behaving selfishly in a world where there is no innate reward for the virtuous. All-in-all, very edgy.
I'm glad I read it, but at the same time I feel like you could cut 25-50% of the middle of the book with absolutely no loss. Bad things can happen to good people, we get it.
I'm glad I read it, but at the same time I feel like you could cut 25-50% of the middle of the book with absolutely no loss. Bad things can happen to good people, we get it.
arisia's review against another edition
3.0
Marquis de Sade's Justine (or The Misfortunes of Virtue) is a treatise on all the things that have in modern parlance been condensed into the term “Sadism.” As far as offending sensibilities goes, this book is no doubt a timeless masterpiece, but unfortunately not always because of its scenes of debauchery. The tale of the unfortunate Justine is cringeworthy at times in both narrative execution and in the arguments it propounds.
The premise is quite simple: a girl of impeccable virtue becomes the victim of cruel circumstances time after time and at every turn her misfortune is aggravated by her choice to abide by the laws of morality and religion. The cruelties that befall Justine are enacted by a number of villainous characters, each of whom test the titular protagonist's resolve, sometimes by tempting her and at other times by threatening her. Each time she stands firm. Occasionally she finds assistance, but all her benefactors save the last either betray her or by some circumstance become unable to aid her after a short while; some of them meet their end while pursuing righteousness, as well.
At each encounter, Justine is faced with new obscenities that blend the sexual with the violent and the simply disgusting, and at each turn she also confronts various arguments that would challenge the virtue she esteems. Justine always has a reply to these, but she never succeeds in changing her tormentors' minds. While this holds the potential for an escalating debate of virtue against debauchery, there is no substantial progress either in terms of what Justine must undergo or the arguments traded on each side. The girl's misfortunes escalate in terms of debauchery, but are never so much a result of Justine's actions as they are of the simple twistedness of each villain she meets. Her woes, therefore, may be attributed to her naivete to a certain extent, but her clinging to virtue does not actually cause them. And while her response to each situation is informed by her moral code—which is quite limited in its scope, but more on that later—the twists of fate happen less because of her character and more because of the other characters she encounters or the circumstances around her. This rather undermines the idea that misfortune befalls virtue. Indeed, if the trials she must undergo are wrought largely by circumstance, then the most it could imply is that whether or not one cleaves to righteousness has nothing to do with one's lot in life. This much does not really clash with the book's apparent intent, that of demonstrating the fruitlessness of virtue in this life; it begs the corresponding question, however, “Does abandoning virtue guarantee success?”
For that question one would have to inquire of the novel's villains. Many of Justine's antagonists meet unfortunate, often gruesome ends, but there are those who seem to come away relatively unscathed. Many of them are either already prosperous, such as a quartet of monks who harass her in a hidden abbey; while others manage by dint of unscrupulousness to eke out a living despite their low station in life, such as the group of thieves in which she meets Dubois, a recurring character who, more than the other antagonists, serves more as temptress than tormentor to the girl. The success of debauchery should, ideally, be measured by something other than debauchery itself, however. If the only measure of accomplishment were the satisfaction of a deviant urge, then it goes without saying that only by straying from the path of virtue can success be found. Unfortunately, few of the antagonists have any lofty ambitions against which virtue and vileness might be properly judged. While many of the characters claim that pleasure is the highest goal, the pleasures that de Sade designed for them are all of the sort that few common folk would have any interest in. For instance, if the sex-crazed quartet of monks had wanted sexual pleasures as most people have it, rather than excitement through scourging and other means of torture, it may well have been that the elaborate set-up of the abbey would have no grounds for existing. In short, it is only because of their absurdly twisted sense of pleasure that they must resort to such measures—and only because of that necessity does the abandonment of morality become so clear.
If there is one character whose goal is more nuance, it is that of a man of science that Justine encounters, who conspires to murder his own daughter to use for anatomical research. Here, at last, is a character whose goal is ostensibly noble—though he later reveals that his passion for science is driven more by egotism than by altruism—but whose means are contemptible. The doctor makes an impassioned speech about life, destruction and progress, justifying his use of his own daughter. Justine tries to save the girl, but fails—and nearly loses her own life in the process—and later learns that the doctor did, in fact, achieve some renown. In this one case, the novel manages to illustrate, rather than simply expound, on how vice is rewarded in this world. Would that the other instances had been as convincing, perhaps the novel would have felt less like a series of philosophical dialogues strung together in hastily-constructed scenes. Instead, each villain simply serves as another mouthpiece for several dragging monologues that are generally variations on the same themes: the pointlessness of virtue, the rational justifications for amorality, and proofs that debauchery is entirely natural, its avoidance an aberration. All are delivered with the same general vocabulary and verbosity, which undermines all attempts at believable characterization—after all, where does one meet a thug adept at the oratory arts?—and makes them a pain to slog through. There is no novelty, no breath of fresh air when one villain is replaced by the next. Using characters as a mouthpiece is almost a trope in the philosophical novel, however, so Justine simply upholds the status quo.
The ultimate argument, that engaging in indulgence without regard to morality is the will of nature, is absurd in light of the antagonists' insistence on abandoning religion. As much as they may claim to believe only in what can be observed, they insist on attributing a “will” to nature. However seemingly scientific their claims, ultimately they invoke “nature” the same way a person of faith might use “divine will.” In saying that they act only in accord with the will of nature, they would reduce humans to animals, and yet at the same time they implicitly maintain themselves as privileged interpreters of this alleged will of nature. And the deviants who serve as antagonists are hardly the best representatives of natural humans, to begin with, although their arguments would misguidedly imply that the further from the norm one is, the more one is in touch with nature.
The arguments in favor of debauchery may be weak, but the arguments in favor of virtue positively languish. Justine fails to learn anything from any of her encounters and her version of morality seems to be entirely focused on prohibitions. The bulk of her conflicts involve her sexual purity, so her heavily deontological ethics are further skewed by an unnuanced, unexamined valuation of virginity. Considering how many times Justine is faced with such similar arguments, it is amazing she never manages to come up with a decent rebuttal. It doesn't help that all her defenses rest on faith, as if virtue could not be conceived of without recourse to a transcendent being. Then again, with all her nemeses invoking nature as their deity, perhaps it all makes sense.
Despite all these shortcomings, the novel is certainly sensational. And while the arguments fall far short of being convincing, they do nonetheless stimulate one to think. Those who believe in virtue will find their wits exercised in internally countering the antagonists' expositions, while those who sympathize with Justine's tormentors just might find a few scraps to enrich their own arguments in favor of unscrupulousness. Furthermore, while thinkers have since nuanced the issues De Sade brought to bear in this work, it retains significance as a landmark work in challenging norms and polite society.
The premise is quite simple: a girl of impeccable virtue becomes the victim of cruel circumstances time after time and at every turn her misfortune is aggravated by her choice to abide by the laws of morality and religion. The cruelties that befall Justine are enacted by a number of villainous characters, each of whom test the titular protagonist's resolve, sometimes by tempting her and at other times by threatening her. Each time she stands firm. Occasionally she finds assistance, but all her benefactors save the last either betray her or by some circumstance become unable to aid her after a short while; some of them meet their end while pursuing righteousness, as well.
At each encounter, Justine is faced with new obscenities that blend the sexual with the violent and the simply disgusting, and at each turn she also confronts various arguments that would challenge the virtue she esteems. Justine always has a reply to these, but she never succeeds in changing her tormentors' minds. While this holds the potential for an escalating debate of virtue against debauchery, there is no substantial progress either in terms of what Justine must undergo or the arguments traded on each side. The girl's misfortunes escalate in terms of debauchery, but are never so much a result of Justine's actions as they are of the simple twistedness of each villain she meets. Her woes, therefore, may be attributed to her naivete to a certain extent, but her clinging to virtue does not actually cause them. And while her response to each situation is informed by her moral code—which is quite limited in its scope, but more on that later—the twists of fate happen less because of her character and more because of the other characters she encounters or the circumstances around her. This rather undermines the idea that misfortune befalls virtue. Indeed, if the trials she must undergo are wrought largely by circumstance, then the most it could imply is that whether or not one cleaves to righteousness has nothing to do with one's lot in life. This much does not really clash with the book's apparent intent, that of demonstrating the fruitlessness of virtue in this life; it begs the corresponding question, however, “Does abandoning virtue guarantee success?”
For that question one would have to inquire of the novel's villains. Many of Justine's antagonists meet unfortunate, often gruesome ends, but there are those who seem to come away relatively unscathed. Many of them are either already prosperous, such as a quartet of monks who harass her in a hidden abbey; while others manage by dint of unscrupulousness to eke out a living despite their low station in life, such as the group of thieves in which she meets Dubois, a recurring character who, more than the other antagonists, serves more as temptress than tormentor to the girl. The success of debauchery should, ideally, be measured by something other than debauchery itself, however. If the only measure of accomplishment were the satisfaction of a deviant urge, then it goes without saying that only by straying from the path of virtue can success be found. Unfortunately, few of the antagonists have any lofty ambitions against which virtue and vileness might be properly judged. While many of the characters claim that pleasure is the highest goal, the pleasures that de Sade designed for them are all of the sort that few common folk would have any interest in. For instance, if the sex-crazed quartet of monks had wanted sexual pleasures as most people have it, rather than excitement through scourging and other means of torture, it may well have been that the elaborate set-up of the abbey would have no grounds for existing. In short, it is only because of their absurdly twisted sense of pleasure that they must resort to such measures—and only because of that necessity does the abandonment of morality become so clear.
If there is one character whose goal is more nuance, it is that of a man of science that Justine encounters, who conspires to murder his own daughter to use for anatomical research. Here, at last, is a character whose goal is ostensibly noble—though he later reveals that his passion for science is driven more by egotism than by altruism—but whose means are contemptible. The doctor makes an impassioned speech about life, destruction and progress, justifying his use of his own daughter. Justine tries to save the girl, but fails—and nearly loses her own life in the process—and later learns that the doctor did, in fact, achieve some renown. In this one case, the novel manages to illustrate, rather than simply expound, on how vice is rewarded in this world. Would that the other instances had been as convincing, perhaps the novel would have felt less like a series of philosophical dialogues strung together in hastily-constructed scenes. Instead, each villain simply serves as another mouthpiece for several dragging monologues that are generally variations on the same themes: the pointlessness of virtue, the rational justifications for amorality, and proofs that debauchery is entirely natural, its avoidance an aberration. All are delivered with the same general vocabulary and verbosity, which undermines all attempts at believable characterization—after all, where does one meet a thug adept at the oratory arts?—and makes them a pain to slog through. There is no novelty, no breath of fresh air when one villain is replaced by the next. Using characters as a mouthpiece is almost a trope in the philosophical novel, however, so Justine simply upholds the status quo.
The ultimate argument, that engaging in indulgence without regard to morality is the will of nature, is absurd in light of the antagonists' insistence on abandoning religion. As much as they may claim to believe only in what can be observed, they insist on attributing a “will” to nature. However seemingly scientific their claims, ultimately they invoke “nature” the same way a person of faith might use “divine will.” In saying that they act only in accord with the will of nature, they would reduce humans to animals, and yet at the same time they implicitly maintain themselves as privileged interpreters of this alleged will of nature. And the deviants who serve as antagonists are hardly the best representatives of natural humans, to begin with, although their arguments would misguidedly imply that the further from the norm one is, the more one is in touch with nature.
The arguments in favor of debauchery may be weak, but the arguments in favor of virtue positively languish. Justine fails to learn anything from any of her encounters and her version of morality seems to be entirely focused on prohibitions. The bulk of her conflicts involve her sexual purity, so her heavily deontological ethics are further skewed by an unnuanced, unexamined valuation of virginity. Considering how many times Justine is faced with such similar arguments, it is amazing she never manages to come up with a decent rebuttal. It doesn't help that all her defenses rest on faith, as if virtue could not be conceived of without recourse to a transcendent being. Then again, with all her nemeses invoking nature as their deity, perhaps it all makes sense.
Despite all these shortcomings, the novel is certainly sensational. And while the arguments fall far short of being convincing, they do nonetheless stimulate one to think. Those who believe in virtue will find their wits exercised in internally countering the antagonists' expositions, while those who sympathize with Justine's tormentors just might find a few scraps to enrich their own arguments in favor of unscrupulousness. Furthermore, while thinkers have since nuanced the issues De Sade brought to bear in this work, it retains significance as a landmark work in challenging norms and polite society.
noxefa's review against another edition
3.0
“no es eligiendo la virtud como el hombre puede encontrar la felicidad, querida muchacha, pues la virtud, como el vicio, no es más que un tipo de conducta para con la sociedad; por consiguiente, no se trata de cultivar una más que otra. hay que limitarse a seguir la corriente; quien se aparte de ella siempre yerra”. — “justine”, marqués de sade.
• el libro que ven en la imagen es la versión número dos de las tres versiones existentes, siendo ésta de 1791. en la época que fue escrita esta novela, la sociedad francesa enfrentaba un período de extremo libertinaje, siendo el rey luis xv icono libertino entre aristócratas y burgueses. el marqués de sade creó obras polémicas que iban de la mano con este estilo de vida. sade pasando casi treinta años de su vida en once cárceles diferentes, estas instancias fueron las que propulsaron su carrera literaria.
• la obra comienza con la historia de dos hermanas que quedaron huérfanas a temprana edad. la mayor de ellas decide acudir al arte de la prostitución, mientras que la menor, justine, decide dirigirse por el camino de la bondad y la virtud. sin embargo, el mundo no se encuentra apto para aceptar dicha virtud; la sociedad en la que se halla está corrompida por el vicio de las personas en donde los virtuosos son humillados y sometidos a los actos más degradantes. justine, como protagonista, será la víctima de los vicios, mostrándose violentada sexualmente como consecuencia de sus buenos actos. sin embargo, la obra no sólo se limita a mostrar las obscenidades que justine debe enfrentar, sino que además ofrece espacios de reflexión filosófica, en donde se logra apreciar los argumentos de los seres corrompidos por el vicio. de esta forma, se abordan diferentes temáticas como el sexo, el dinero, la felicidad, la religión, la misoginia, la pedofilia, el libertinaje, la muerte, la naturaleza, entre otros aspectos.
• es un libro crudo, que llega a tormentar cada rincón del cerebro humano. a pesar de encontrar ambientes filosóficos que invitan al lector a reflexionar el comportamiento humano y su rol en la naturaleza, es indiscutible que se trata de un texto perturbador. creo que es un libro sólo para aquellas personas que tengan la mente abierta y no se sientan acorralados con su sensibilidad humana, puesto que la cantidad de violencia que contiene esta obra es desmesurada. personalmente me costó mucho poder terminar el libro, me demoré más de lo usual ya que mi mente no lograba procesar los escenarios, y es por eso mismo que creo que este libro debe leerse por segunda vez sí o sí para poder comprender a fondo su filosofía. pongo alerta a las mujeres que deseen leer esta obra, puesto que la misoginia es uno de los temas principales en el texto y el odio hacia lo femenino se trata de forma explícita.
• el libro que ven en la imagen es la versión número dos de las tres versiones existentes, siendo ésta de 1791. en la época que fue escrita esta novela, la sociedad francesa enfrentaba un período de extremo libertinaje, siendo el rey luis xv icono libertino entre aristócratas y burgueses. el marqués de sade creó obras polémicas que iban de la mano con este estilo de vida. sade pasando casi treinta años de su vida en once cárceles diferentes, estas instancias fueron las que propulsaron su carrera literaria.
• la obra comienza con la historia de dos hermanas que quedaron huérfanas a temprana edad. la mayor de ellas decide acudir al arte de la prostitución, mientras que la menor, justine, decide dirigirse por el camino de la bondad y la virtud. sin embargo, el mundo no se encuentra apto para aceptar dicha virtud; la sociedad en la que se halla está corrompida por el vicio de las personas en donde los virtuosos son humillados y sometidos a los actos más degradantes. justine, como protagonista, será la víctima de los vicios, mostrándose violentada sexualmente como consecuencia de sus buenos actos. sin embargo, la obra no sólo se limita a mostrar las obscenidades que justine debe enfrentar, sino que además ofrece espacios de reflexión filosófica, en donde se logra apreciar los argumentos de los seres corrompidos por el vicio. de esta forma, se abordan diferentes temáticas como el sexo, el dinero, la felicidad, la religión, la misoginia, la pedofilia, el libertinaje, la muerte, la naturaleza, entre otros aspectos.
• es un libro crudo, que llega a tormentar cada rincón del cerebro humano. a pesar de encontrar ambientes filosóficos que invitan al lector a reflexionar el comportamiento humano y su rol en la naturaleza, es indiscutible que se trata de un texto perturbador. creo que es un libro sólo para aquellas personas que tengan la mente abierta y no se sientan acorralados con su sensibilidad humana, puesto que la cantidad de violencia que contiene esta obra es desmesurada. personalmente me costó mucho poder terminar el libro, me demoré más de lo usual ya que mi mente no lograba procesar los escenarios, y es por eso mismo que creo que este libro debe leerse por segunda vez sí o sí para poder comprender a fondo su filosofía. pongo alerta a las mujeres que deseen leer esta obra, puesto que la misoginia es uno de los temas principales en el texto y el odio hacia lo femenino se trata de forma explícita.
firstorderpixie's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
slow-paced
ferris_mx's review against another edition
3.0
Trigger warning (book, not review).
I just don't know how I feel about this. The "libertines" argue for an atheistic amoral view of nature/life, while Justine argues for a religion-inspired morality. For the whole book the libertine approach is ascendant, and it is well argued and valuable in its historical context, while I disagree with it. But the moral view, which holds sway in the final pages, I disagree with even more strongly. The misogyny is still extremely problematic. The writing/translation was easily readable.
I just don't know how I feel about this. The "libertines" argue for an atheistic amoral view of nature/life, while Justine argues for a religion-inspired morality. For the whole book the libertine approach is ascendant, and it is well argued and valuable in its historical context, while I disagree with it. But the moral view, which holds sway in the final pages, I disagree with even more strongly. The misogyny is still extremely problematic. The writing/translation was easily readable.
mrears0_0's review against another edition
dark
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
no words to describe how wild this was, for the 1700s this was crazy, some kind of messed up fantasy
janedoelish's review against another edition
2.0
The original edgelord strikes again:
There is no pleasure in Sartre's fiction, only the author's grim, nihilistic joy at feeling smarter than the rest of his contemporaries. The only reason this is ever sold as erotica is because people (still) tend to conflate this genre with sex, not the far more specific eroticism.
Personally, I was mostly bored by the constant, gratuitious sexual violence and the soapboxing constructed around it.
Yes, we get it, your lordship: religion is a sedative and bourgeois morality a hypocritical, empty shell that ultimately serves the rotten core underneath. You know what, I even tend to agree with you (though not with your nihilistic conclusions).
But I would have prefered something more entertaining, more nuanced - or both.
If you are looking for kinky stimulation, look elsewhere.
There is no pleasure in Sartre's fiction, only the author's grim, nihilistic joy at feeling smarter than the rest of his contemporaries. The only reason this is ever sold as erotica is because people (still) tend to conflate this genre with sex, not the far more specific eroticism.
Personally, I was mostly bored by the constant, gratuitious sexual violence and the soapboxing constructed around it.
Yes, we get it, your lordship: religion is a sedative and bourgeois morality a hypocritical, empty shell that ultimately serves the rotten core underneath. You know what, I even tend to agree with you (though not with your nihilistic conclusions).
But I would have prefered something more entertaining, more nuanced - or both.
If you are looking for kinky stimulation, look elsewhere.