Thomas de Quincey (1785–1859)

This slim volume has a prose style that reminds me of the labyrinth of tiny alleys and streets that form its setting in London. It's a curious book about a former Etonian's struggle with addiction and poverty. Apart from a fleeting glimpse of poor Ann, the book is pervaded by a claustrophobic atmosphere of self-indulgence with few insights. Several times the narrator is saved by an undescribed deus ex-machina.

...I must have relapsed into my former state of wretchedness. Suddenly, however, at this crisis, an opening was made, almost by accident, for reconciliation with my friends. I quitted London, in haste, for a remote part of England: after some time, I proceeded to the university, and it was not until many months had passed away, that I had it in my power again to revisit the ground which had become so interesting to me, and to this day remains so, as the chief source of my youthful sufferings.

… (plus d'informations)

This book by Thomas de Quincey is remarkable. The writing style belongs to his era, which means you must read the book slowly. However, he had a fluency of style, which is brilliant. I was unaware that opium consumption was widespread in his time. However, the frankness of the 'confession' is startling.
His frankness is selective, as mentioned in the introduction. He did not dwell on his physical relationship with Ann, the prostitute. There was a strong emotional bond between the two. I don't know how he described his visions with such clarity. His memories of his sister and his musings on death are almost surreal. It is like looking into his brain and seeing the visions spring to life.
A remarkable book at many levels, this is worth reading.… (plus d'informations)

Indeholder "Forord", "Det oprindelige forord til udgaven 1821", "Første del: Indledende beretning", "Anden del: Opiumsglæder", "Tredie del: Opiumskvaler", "Fjerde del: Libanons datter".

"Forord" handler om ???
"Det oprindelige forord til udgaven 1821" handler om ???
"Første del: Indledende beretning" handler om ???
"Anden del: Opiumsglæder" handler om i 1804 at prøve opium for første gang. Det var fantastisk og han medgiver at opium er af en mat, brun farve, at det er dyrt (ostindisk opium koster tre guineas pundet og tyrkisk koster otte) og at en stor nok dosis kan slå folk ihjel.
"Tredie del: Opiumskvaler" handler om ???
"Fjerde del: Libanons datter" handler om ???

Forfatteren prøver opium i 1804 for at slippe af med smerter, der har plaget ham i tre uger. En ven fra kollegiet foreslår opium.

Oxycontin epidemien har mange ofre med samme oplevelse. Smertelindring efterfulgt af afhængighed. Thomas Banke var borgmester i Fredericia og røg i samme hul i 2010 som Thomas de Quincey i 1804.
Opiumdranker eller Opiumsdrankers, mon retskrivningen har ændret sig?

Thomas Banke: "Borgmester på stoffer : mine fire år i narkohelvede"… (plus d'informations)

One of those books that I'd heard a lot about but had never read. So took the plunge and read this version. I must admit to being slightly nonplussed after reading it....wondering what all the fuss was about. On the one hand, I'm told that taking opium was perfectly acceptable in the society when de Quincy was taking it. But on the other hand the stir that the book created seemed to be that he was confessing to a vice and the rest of society was fascinated by this and wanted to know more about the pleasures and the dangers of taking the stuff. Most of the book is really about de Quincy's upbringing and his escape from Boarding school. (This is even more so in the later (1821) version that was published with a lot more additional material). And, I guess, some of this is relevant in terms of explaining the dreams he experienced under the influence of opium. As he says: a keeper of oxen would probably dream about oxen....but he had a much richer life experience ...especially in literature and greek studies ....so his dreams incorporated stories from the greek classicists. There are really only a few pages where he actively describes his dreams Viz: " Under the connecting feeling of tropical heat and vertical sun-lights, I brought together all creatures, birds, beasts, reptiles, all trees and plants, usages and appearances, that are found in all tropical regions, and assembled them together in China or Indostan. From kindred feelings, I soon brought Egypt and all her gods under the same law. I was stared at, hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by monkeys, by paroquets, by cockatoos. I ran into pagodas: and was fixed, for centuries, at the summit, or in secret rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was sacrificed. I fled from the wrath of Brama through all the forests of Asia: Vishnu hated me: Seeva laid wait for me. I came suddenly upon Isis and Osiris: I had done a deed, they said, which the ibis and the crocodile trembled at. I was buried, for a thousand years, in stone coffins, with mummies and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed, with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles; and laid, confounded with all unutterable slimy things, amongst reeds and Nilotic mud."
And again: "I thought that it was a Sunday morning in May, that it was Easter Sunday, and as yet very early in the morning. I was standing, as it seemed to me, at the door of my own cottage. Right before me lay the very scene which could really be commanded from that situation, but exalted, as was usual, and solemnized by the power of dreams. There were the same mountains, and the same lovely valley at their feet; but the mountains were raised to more than Alpine height, and there was interspace far larger between them of meadows and forest lawns; the hedges were rich with white roses; and no living creature was to be seen, excepting that in the green churchyard there were cattle tranquilly reposing upon the verdant graves, and particularly round about the grave of a child whom I had tenderly loved, just as I had really beheld them..."
He goes into considerable detail about how he got involved in taking opium (stomach problems) and why he continued and his attempts to wean himself off the drug. Presumably this was helpful to the readers at the time who were contemplating opium for themselves.. And it does seem to be a reasonably balanced account of the pleasures (and freedom from pain) vs the downside with horrific dreams and the gnawing desire for the drug. Certainly, his account doesn't incite me to rush out and try it. Yet clearly he and his sometime friend Coleridge (and others) were using the drug for literary inspiration......though they seemed to be revolted by what they had written whilst under the influence.
I actually found his biographical descriptions of schools and his experiences walking in Wales and starving in London of great interest. Is it great literature? Well, not in my book. I place it in a similar category to Moby Dick.....a bit of a grab bag of descriptions of incidents and history .......with a pretty rough story line running through it. (Admittedly, in the current case, it was supposed to be biographic experience not a fictional work).
Oh....one other thing. the style is ponderous and totally overwrought. Viz: "it. I also shrank from treating any subject which I had much considered; but more, I believe, as recoiling from the intricacy and the elaborateness which had been made known to me in the course of considering it, and on account of the difficulty or the toilsomeness which might be fairly presumed from the mere fact that I had long considered it, or could have found it necessary to do so, than from any blind, mechanical feeling inevitably associated (as in Coleridge it was) with a second survey of the same subject".
OK. Now I've read it. I'd give it no more than 3 stars. Interesting but only mildly so.… (plus d'informations)