Jean Baptiste Grenouille Tiene Su Marca De Nacimiento No Despide Ning N Olor Al Mismo Tiempo Posee Un Olfato Prodigioso Que Le Permite Percibir Todos Los Olores Del Mundo Desde La Miseria En Que Nace, El Protagonista Escala Posiciones Sociales Convirti Ndose En Un Afamado Perfumista Crea Perfumes Capaces De Hacerle Pasar Inadvertido O Inspira Simpat A, Amor Para Obtener Estas F Rmulas Debe Asesinar A J Venes Muchachas V Rgenes, Obtener Fluidos Corporales Y Licuar Sus Olores Ntimos Su Arte Se Convierte En Una Suprema E Inquietante Prestidigitaci N Due to a bit of a cold lately, I couldn t smell the cinnamon sprinkled on my Frothy Coffee, nor the aromas of fresh croissants walking past the patisserie, or the preparation of an evening meal consisting of mussels cooked in garlic butter I love these smells, they are just as important to me as taste, damn this cold , if only I had the nose of Jean Baptiste Grenouille, having a cold wouldn t have made any difference, I could smell the fresh fish markets from a mile away No interest though in hunting virgins for their scent thank God S skind s novel which I didn t even realise has been so popular is Set in 18th century France, and tells the grim story of one Jean Baptiste Grenouille, a physically and emotionally abused orphan who is blessed with a supernatural gift, the great sense of smell His frenzied obsession for odours guides him in a ghastly perverse way to search for the lost origin of his identity A genius of aroma, Grenouille himself lacks a personal odor, signifying an absence of individual identity, but never mind, he can just go about stealing that of others As he discovers his olfactory virtuosity, he becomes increasingly obsessed with inventing new fragrances, particularly his own, which he attempts to create artificially by extracting and blending the corporeal scents of young virginal women he murders His great hope is to create the ideal perfume that will give him the magical essence of identity He despises the rest of mankind, but still is solely driven by a desire for the attention and affection of others, he wants to be top dog, the hell with everybody else At the moment of his crowning glory, however, Grenouille knows that the aura of identity created by his magic perfume is an illusion, and that it has been hate rather than love that drove him to become a genius of perfuming After this epiphany, Grenouille goes barking mad, and surrenders himself to a gory finale.This book was good, I enjoyed it for the most part, but for me, it wasn t great, as viewed by a lot of others The plot is unique and skilfully done, not only in Grenouille s characterization, but also because S skind has done his homework on 18th century France and the science behind perfume He describes Grenouille and his actions with a detached demeanor, thereby heightening the horrific nature of Grenouille s actions by not commenting on that nature, this leads to the problem though of very little coverage in Grenouille s despair as he realises that everything he did was in vain and ultimately unsatisfying to both him and me as the reader And the repetitive prose and unfocused paragraphs had me skimming the odd page here and there I can see why it has had big appeal, because on the surface, the premise is so startlingly different, so kudos there, and he gets a range of emotions from sympathy when a filthy young orphan, to disgust and hatred when he starts his murderous quest.Even tough the chilling horrors of Grenouille s actions are painted in such realistic tones, the novel on the whole never really got under my skin as I thought it would, it s good in places but pretentious in others, and summing up the central character he was just too two dimensional for my liking Not the sort of book I would normally read, so at least it was a break from the norm.Although I am still a long way off wondering around in grandpa slippers, I felt this novel was maybe intended for a younger audience.Forget the fish guts, cow hide, boiled puppy and dead virgins, I will stick to the mint, lavender, bergamot, sandalwood and tonka bean of Jean Paul Gaultier A lightly scented 3 5 . I was predisposed to love this book no matter what I love perfumes The fact that this book had blood and murder was just a bonus.For me, perfumes and scents are a visceral thing I love perfume I have never been a visual person, my memories are composed of layers of scent.I remember as a child, growing up in Vietnam, visiting my elderly neighbor s house and having him give me a cup of black tea infused with jasmine Those jasmines would put the pitiful little star jasmines to shame They were huge, each petal as wide as a fingernail White, waxen, and filled with the most beautiful, deep, richly floral scent that even as a 5 year old I could feel was seductive without ever knowing the meaning or the existence of the word.I remember sleeping with the window open, as the night air was filled with the scents of the flowering trees that grew outside my grandparents house I remember the green, earthy smell of the rice paddies where I grew up I remember the bitter, smoky smell of the pits so environmentally destructive, but whatever that my neighbors dug in which they burned wood slowly for months to make a small supply of coal Not all the smells were pleasant, of course, because hello, I did grow up on a farm, but my memories are built upon scent.My love of perfume grew when I was a teen I learned about perfumes, and how they were made I learned about how flowers were distilled for their scents, an enormous quantity of raw ingredients required for a few precious drops of essential oils I learned about making aromatic compounds in an organic chemistry lab, and that my beloved scent of jasmine and tuberose smelled as beautifully seductive and sexual as it did because it contained a compound called indoles, which smells like poop Who knew I learned that each perfume as a top note, which quickly dissipates, the middle notes, which remains, the base notes, which lingers onto your skin like the touch of a long gone lover I learned that musk can smell rank, like sweaty, animalistic sex on top of a slice of Muenster cheese, or it can smell like the warmth of a mother s embrace.There are certain scents I will never be able to wear again, because one I wore for months, while longing after a guy I thought I could never have Another I can t smell without wincing, because it reminds me of heartbreak and tears, despite the fact that it came in a rose colored bottle and smelled like green tea and lemons.This book is a perfume lover s dream come true The entire book could have had no mystery at all, and I would still read it and revel in the descriptions alone.The Summary Jean Baptiste Grenouille was a bastard, born in 1738 to a syphilitic, consumptive woman working in a stinking fish stall as a gutter After delivering the unfortunate child, she was promptly arrested for abandoning said child, and hanged.A most auspicious beginning.Even in the beginning, his wet nurse paid for by the state noticed that something was wrong with GrenouilleI don t mean what s in the diaper His soil smells, that s true enough But it s the bastard himself, he doesn t smellBabies have a smell, some stink, but underneath it, there s always a warm, cuddly smell that even a cold, heartless, child hating woman such as I can appreciate Grenouille has no scent.People notice His fellow children notice They could not stand the nonsmell of him They were afraid of him. As a teen, he sought work at a tannery in Paris Paris is a stinking pit of hell To Grenouilleit is heaven, with its amalgamation of scents It was a mixture of human and animal smells, of water and stone and ashes and leather, of soap and fresh baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar, of noodles and smoothly polished brass, of sage and ale and tears, of grease and soggy straw and dry straw Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines, only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. Grenouille knew he was not normal, but his obsession for the pursuit of a scent never really gained traction until he committed his first murder, for love of a virgin s scent the sweat of her armpits, the oil in her hair, the fishy odor of her genitals, and smelled it all with the greatest pleasure Her sweat smelled as fresh as the sea breeze, the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil, her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies, her skin as apricot blossoms and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich, so balanced, so magical, that every perfume that Grenouille had smelled until now, every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself, seemed at once to be utterly meaningless. The scent of a living human being that he must commit to memory, that he must capture, in the way a flower collector dries a specimen within parchment, in the way an insect lover kills and pins to a page the very thing he loves When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits, tore off her dress, and the stream of scent became a flood that inundated him with its fragrance He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her, from belly to breast, to neck, over her face and hair, and back to her belly, down to her genitals, to her thighs and white legs He smelled her over from head to toe, he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin, in her navel, and in the wrinkles inside her elbow. His is an obsessive quest that will lead him to murder again, and again, and again, in this desperate search Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent, his life would have no meaning. This is a book in which the title is completely self explanatory It is about a murderer, and his obsessive quest for a perfect perfume It s something I understand, in my constant search for the Holy Grail of fragrances.But I have yet to succumb to the urge to murder Because sometimes you just have to read about an 17th century perfumer who may or may not be the Anti Christ and goes on a killing spree, before starting aa giant omnisexual fuckfest and being voluntarily cannabilized Ah literature That s why I read you, the class The class.
From 1968 1974 he studied medieval and modern history in Munich and Aix en Provence In the 80s he worked as a screenwriter, for Kir Royal and Monaco Franze among others After spending the 1970s writing what he has characterized as short unpublished prose pieces and longer un produced screenplays , Patrick S skind was catapulted to fame in the 1980s by the monodrama Der Kontrabass The Double B
- 308 pages
- Das Parfum. Die Geschichte eines Mörders
- Patrick Süskind
- 04 February 2019 Patrick Süskind