Our Lady of the Flowers

Our Lady of the Flowers
Jean Genet
Difficulty: Very Hard
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I said in my post on Genet’s The Thief’s Journal that I preferred it over Our Lady of the Flowers, and while that’s true, Our Lady definitely deserves some time in the spotlight too. Many of the themes present in the former will also be found in this book, most notably Genet’s inverted Christian value system, which is discussed at greater length in the post about The Thief’s Journal. But unlike Thief’s Journal, Our Lady has a bit more in the way of plot and story, and adopts an impressionistic, hallucinatory style to tell it. Genet himself appears frequently in it as the narrator, and sometimes even pauses the story to masturbate in his jail cell. Indeed, he begins his tale by explaining to the reader that these are the stories he tells himself to masturbate to when he’s bored. While Our Lady does have some explicit moments, much of the novel’s content isn’t what most of us would consider to be pornographic.

Our Lady of the Flowers opens with the death of its main character, Divine, a cross-dressing homosexual (usually referred to as ‘she’) formerly known as Culafroy. DIvine has died of tuberculosis, and Genet portrays her as a holy saint ascended to heaven and sets out to tell us about her life. Prior to her death, Divine lived in a cramped attic overlooking a graveyard with her true love, a pimp named Darling Daintyfoot. When Genet isn’t showing us Divine’s childhood (when she was still Culafroy), he’s following Divine and Darling through the Parisian underworld as they interact with all manner of social outcasts and criminals. One of these criminals is Our Lady of the Flowers, a small time dealer turned murderer, who temporarily forms a ménage a trois with Divine and Darling before being caught by the authorities and executed. As previously mentioned, Genet is heavily present as a narrator and is constantly breaking in on his own story, further fragmenting an already tenuous narrative. 

I’ve always found the story behind this novel’s creation and publication to be particularly fascinating. Before he became a writer, Genet was a career criminal, primarily a thief, prostitute, and most unforgivably, a homosexual. Our Lady of the Flowers was composed entirely during one of his many stints in prison, and actually had to be written twice after a guard discovered his first draft and burned it. After his release, he introduced himself and his work to Jean Cocteau, and several years later, when Genet was facing a life sentence for repeated convictions, Cocteau, Gide, and other French luminaries advocated for his release on account of his great artistic potential, using Our Lady as evidence. And the French government let him go. It’s such a wild thing for me to imagine. I suppose we do similar things here in America, with pop stars and football players, but I don’t think they’re quite the same. Ours is a court of public opinion in an age of information for relatively small-time offenders, whereas Genet’s case was taken up by a few intellectuals arguing, it seems to me, for the primacy of art over law and order and actually winning. No doubt there’s a cultural divide that muddles my understanding of it, but there it is.

The Thief’s Journal

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The Thief’s Journal
Jean Genet
Difficulty: Very Hard
Amazon, Barnes and Noble

When people hear the name of Jean Genet, they often think of his famous first novel, Our Lady of the Flowers, which he wrote during one of his numerous stints in prison. But I’ve always found The Thief’s Journal to be much more interesting. While both works are semi-autobiographical, The Thief’s Journal delves much deeper into Genet’s philosophical, perhaps even religious drive to debase himself in the eyes of society. This book follows a portion of Genet’s life dedicated to theft, prostitution, and other such immoralities as he travels throughout Europe and evades the authorities. It is loosely chronological, and written in the same dramatic, poetic language his other works are.

What caught the attention of so many critics, including French philosopher Jean-Paul Sarte, was Genet’s inversion of traditional morality. Society’s greatest vices became Genet’s greatest virtues in an overtly Christian sense. To be homosexual is to be one of the ‘anointed,’ and theft becomes a ritual comparable to prayer. To Genet, nothing was more beautiful than an act of betrayal, his counterpart to the Christian virtue of sacrifice. This perspective fascinated philosophers and intellectuals because such a conception of morality raised countless questions about why society values what it does, and what it might mean of those values are arbitrarily constructed.

So what does The Thief’s Journal have to offer a contemporary reader? Well, it’s a window into the mind of a social outcast, one which demonstrates why a criminal or deviant might behave the way they do. There is a scene in the book where the narrator (as a young boy) is asked why he stole, and he answers that he did so because the other boys thought he was a thief. The stories we tell about certain types of people or behaviours can cause them to become a reality. If we treat a boy as though he were a thief, or a homosexual as though he were a sinner, why should they not become one in fact as well as name? And if they are doomed to this role, why should they not glory in it, as Genet did? But The Thief’s Journal is definitely not for everyone. The subject matter is dark and the prose is dense and often difficult. There is also little in the way of coherent plot, as much of the text is autobiographical. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in LGBT history, the history of gay fiction, or existential philosophy, but be prepared to work at it a bit.