Marthe is the debut novel of Huysmans, the ultimate novelist of French decadence at the end of the nineteenth century, so bad, so obscene that no British publisher dared issue a translation. Actually, one publisher, Kegan Paul, did dare, but only the late 'Catholic' novels and only when he was at death's door and it didn't matter any more.
Pompous bluestockings are always on the lookout for something to ban. The fact is Huysmans was a realist. He was enthused by Zola's pseudo-scientific theories of experimental realism but he, in practice, led the way with Marthe. Zola blatantly copies Marthe in Nana but does not dare to go as far as Huysmans. Zola's heroine starts off in the theatre and rises from there. Marthe is first seen in the theatre but that is the highpoint of her career. She is and remains a whore. Her young lover finds normalcy after leaving her. Her elderly actor lover ends up on the mortuary table after she dumps him. Inbetween Marthe is the kept mistress of a married man she cares so little about that his name is never mentioned.
Huysmans had to self-publish Marthe in Belgium. Imports were banned in France, any copies seized and destroyed as obscene. The truth is, the characters are immoral but there is no obscenity. We are given reality, sordid, sad, but ultra real, even down to the details. The actor beats Marthe, showing off to his drunken mates. The married man who keeps her wears pink silk tights.
It sounds grubby and depressing. It might be a shortcoming on my part, but I found it fascinating, thrilling and restorative. I enjoyed it more than the better known Down There (reviewed here in 2021) because the core subject (unsuitable passion, the degradation of poverty, and indeed debased theatricals) are themes I have encountered and witnessed. I bought the book for a research project, started reading as a chore, only to be swept away by Huysman's brilliant technique. I have become a Zola fan over recent years but Huysmans intrigues me more.
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