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sethcrumrine's review against another edition
5.0
Has to be the one of the most remarkable things I have ever read. Just completely a tour-de-force of grim, lucid and hysterical historical fiction. Huxley has a lot to say about our relationships to ourselves and our infatuation with dogma, penance and control. You could not make some of this shit up. 70% of cinematic content dedicated to exorcism and possession must have first sprung form this single text. Huxley delves deeply into the idea that humanity is both controlled and stunted by religion. At times a difficult text to ingest as Huxley likes to meander a bit, but he really never loses any energy or tension. His breakdowns of the events is masterful. Truly a one of a kind work.
effemar's review against another edition
5.0
Completely incredible. I read passages of this book aloud to anyone who would listen the entire time I was reading it. I don't know if there's yet been a person who sincerely called anything by Aldous Huxley a "page-turner", but this book was.
Frequently, with authors who tend towards the philosophical, there will be moments in your reading experience where the author in question will abruptly drop the narrative to the side in order to write several interminable pages on his pet topic, which he has somehow managed to tack onto an otherwise coherent thesis. Aldous Huxley is no exception. His tangents are fantastically long and seem to exist only because he had something to say and no way to convince anyone to pay attention. His solution to this problem appears to have been putting his thoughts in the middle of a story the reader would very much like to get back to.
The miraculous thing here is that objectively I was being strongarmed into reading the theological ramblings of a racist from the fifties, and I was completely spellbound the whole time. And it's not anything to do with his style or his method. The simple fact of it is that Aldous Huxley's thoughts on religion, his view of God, the things he's interested in and the metaphysical commentary he delights in offering are so completely aligned with my interests it actually beggars belief. I had the thought while reading that this book, to anyone else, would be a solid 3.5 out of 5 star read. Fortunately for Aldous Huxley's goodreads rating, which I'm sure he's monitoring loyally from the grave, I'm me, and I will never not be down to read his meandering thoughts on self-transcendence through religious mortification of the flesh. I giggled reading this book. Audibly. Several times.
Huxley's scathing commentary on groupthink and the perils of what he terms, in his epilogue, the downward self-transcendence of 'herd-poison', remain as pertinent as ever. More pertinent than ever. When this book was published, the largest social concerns he saw fit to bring to mind were that of radio and the USSR. Now, a veritable buffet of examples of mob justice and (proverbial, in this case) witch hunts linger in the public consciousness, ripe for comparison.
The sad fate of Urbain Grandier is memorable for its brutality and blatant injustice, but the invaluable takeaway that so many such stories lack is that Urbain Grandier is a profoundly imperfect victim. He is a lecherous, arrogant social upstart who abused his position and made a series of deeply unwise choices that led to him being sentenced to complete social and bodily annihilation by a kangaroo court, and he is also a figure of immense dignity who suffered for crimes he did not commit at the hands of objectively prejudiced and terrible people. He is a bad man who nevertheless was subject to profound injustice. To empathize with Urbain Grandier, as you do in these pages, is essential to the story that is being told. You empathize with him in his bad decisions, his grasps at holiness, and his astonishing belief in both his own innocence and God's justice. Half arrogance, half genuine transcendence, Urbain Grandier's refusal to confess to a crime he did not commit despite torture, immense social pressure, and all common precedent is utterly remarkable. It is, despite everything, a kind of nobility. I did cry.
The capacity of a bad person to be innocent is a truth rivaled only in the book by the truth of Grandier's accusers. They are victims and victimizers, motivated by forces both within and beyond their control, limited by beliefs that work against their better nature. Surin, the fanatical exorcist, is moved by a God he is both impossibly close to and desperately far from; fascinating and tragic, god-maddened and god-obsessed. Jeanne de Anges, caged and vindictive, is a woman in a box, as powerful as she is powerless, wielding the double edged sword of her own sex and spitting at passerby. Laubardemont is ruthless and stifled, Trincant scorned and righteous. Even the Cardinal Richelieu is subject to the unbearable contradiction of Heaven and Earth, his own salvation assured and his body rotting away as he lives, mocked by God and men. There is a panic here, felt by all the characters keenly. The understanding is as universal as it is urgent: they truly believe themselves beset by evil at all sides. Hell is empty, all the devils are in Loudon.
Frequently, with authors who tend towards the philosophical, there will be moments in your reading experience where the author in question will abruptly drop the narrative to the side in order to write several interminable pages on his pet topic, which he has somehow managed to tack onto an otherwise coherent thesis. Aldous Huxley is no exception. His tangents are fantastically long and seem to exist only because he had something to say and no way to convince anyone to pay attention. His solution to this problem appears to have been putting his thoughts in the middle of a story the reader would very much like to get back to.
The miraculous thing here is that objectively I was being strongarmed into reading the theological ramblings of a racist from the fifties, and I was completely spellbound the whole time. And it's not anything to do with his style or his method. The simple fact of it is that Aldous Huxley's thoughts on religion, his view of God, the things he's interested in and the metaphysical commentary he delights in offering are so completely aligned with my interests it actually beggars belief. I had the thought while reading that this book, to anyone else, would be a solid 3.5 out of 5 star read. Fortunately for Aldous Huxley's goodreads rating, which I'm sure he's monitoring loyally from the grave, I'm me, and I will never not be down to read his meandering thoughts on self-transcendence through religious mortification of the flesh. I giggled reading this book. Audibly. Several times.
Huxley's scathing commentary on groupthink and the perils of what he terms, in his epilogue, the downward self-transcendence of 'herd-poison', remain as pertinent as ever. More pertinent than ever. When this book was published, the largest social concerns he saw fit to bring to mind were that of radio and the USSR. Now, a veritable buffet of examples of mob justice and (proverbial, in this case) witch hunts linger in the public consciousness, ripe for comparison.
The sad fate of Urbain Grandier is memorable for its brutality and blatant injustice, but the invaluable takeaway that so many such stories lack is that Urbain Grandier is a profoundly imperfect victim. He is a lecherous, arrogant social upstart who abused his position and made a series of deeply unwise choices that led to him being sentenced to complete social and bodily annihilation by a kangaroo court, and he is also a figure of immense dignity who suffered for crimes he did not commit at the hands of objectively prejudiced and terrible people. He is a bad man who nevertheless was subject to profound injustice. To empathize with Urbain Grandier, as you do in these pages, is essential to the story that is being told. You empathize with him in his bad decisions, his grasps at holiness, and his astonishing belief in both his own innocence and God's justice. Half arrogance, half genuine transcendence, Urbain Grandier's refusal to confess to a crime he did not commit despite torture, immense social pressure, and all common precedent is utterly remarkable. It is, despite everything, a kind of nobility. I did cry.
The capacity of a bad person to be innocent is a truth rivaled only in the book by the truth of Grandier's accusers. They are victims and victimizers, motivated by forces both within and beyond their control, limited by beliefs that work against their better nature. Surin, the fanatical exorcist, is moved by a God he is both impossibly close to and desperately far from; fascinating and tragic, god-maddened and god-obsessed. Jeanne de Anges, caged and vindictive, is a woman in a box, as powerful as she is powerless, wielding the double edged sword of her own sex and spitting at passerby. Laubardemont is ruthless and stifled, Trincant scorned and righteous. Even the Cardinal Richelieu is subject to the unbearable contradiction of Heaven and Earth, his own salvation assured and his body rotting away as he lives, mocked by God and men. There is a panic here, felt by all the characters keenly. The understanding is as universal as it is urgent: they truly believe themselves beset by evil at all sides. Hell is empty, all the devils are in Loudon.
leftylucyprivateeye's review against another edition
4.25
Heady and dense, but fascinating look at mass delirium, through the lens of a 17th century convent of "possessed" nuns. Huxley presents the historical facts of the event and a thoughtful analysis through the eyes of both a contemporary and modern person. I'd love to know what he would have thought about the mass psychosis the internet has wrought.
flashgbc's review against another edition
3.0
Self-righteousness, sexual depravity, and mass delusion are just some of the interesting topics in this book, all of which kept me reading. On the other hand, Huxley's writing style felt dense for a moderately lengthed book.
kermithall's review against another edition
5.0
Beyond the very well written and researched account of real events that Huxley relays to us in The Devils of Loudon, the principle reason I admire this book is that within it there is a true sense of humane understanding. The barriers of time, religion, country and basic ontological difference were eventually broken down and there were glimpses of the commonality between myself and the people involved. I felt like part of Huxley's approach to this book was that these people weren't just 'hysterical' or 'dogmatic', but that they were entirely within the range of human experience. It sounds obvious or stupid to say that earnestly, but given the subject matter I was surprised by how connected I could feel towards 17th century French witch trials, the politics, the personalities, et cetera. This is a real achievement of historical (mostly non-)fiction. Plus, it's just a hugely interesting story!
redrumfoeceip's review against another edition
4.0
Huxley rozprawia się nie tylko z "Matką Joanną od Aniołów", bohaterką własnej farsy, ale jego oponentem jest też Kościół, by na końcu - stała się nim cała ówczesna cywilizacja (poniekąd biurokratyczna).
Interludia poświęcone ludzkiej kondycji były moim motorem napędowym do czytania dalej, absolutnie wspaniałe egzystencjalne rozważania, skłaniające do ogromu przemyśleń.
Podsumowując w wiadomym stylu:
Czy można spalić niewinnego człowieka na stosie, wspierając się bagatela ponad tysiąc stronicowym, nic nie wartym aktem oskarżenia?
Można, jeszcze jak!
Interludia poświęcone ludzkiej kondycji były moim motorem napędowym do czytania dalej, absolutnie wspaniałe egzystencjalne rozważania, skłaniające do ogromu przemyśleń.
Podsumowując w wiadomym stylu:
Czy można spalić niewinnego człowieka na stosie, wspierając się bagatela ponad tysiąc stronicowym, nic nie wartym aktem oskarżenia?
Można, jeszcze jak!
elanna76's review against another edition
5.0
Letto a tredici anni in italiano, riletto a quarant'anni in inglese. la mia opinione resta quella che era: questo saggio è un capolavoro, uno dei libri che mi hanno profondamente influenzato. Pur nella diversa visione del mondo (non ho nessuna tendenza mistica) ho sempre trovato la narrazione elegante e coinvolgente e, elemento fondamentale, ho sempre condiviso l'analisi dei meccanismi di suggestione e auto-suggestione, di convenienze politiche e eccessi mistici, che determinarono lo svolgersi della farsa epocale, tragica e grottesca, della "possessione" delle monache di Loudun e di molti dei loro esorcisti.
L'Appendice, con la sua perfetta sintesi dei meccanismi di dominio delle masse, rimane un piccolo capolavoro di antropologia sociologica.
L'Appendice, con la sua perfetta sintesi dei meccanismi di dominio delle masse, rimane un piccolo capolavoro di antropologia sociologica.
elanna76's review against another edition
5.0
I re-read this book in the English language 1970 edition by Chatto and Windus after a very early reading in Italian when I was fourteen. My opinion about it is unchanged.
Masterpiece. I think it is one of the books that most influenced my formation as a thinking human being. I am not a mystic at all, and I don't share many of Huxley's views on spirituality, but his narration is enthralling, powerful and elegant, and his explanation of the mechanisms of control over the masses in the Appendix are a brilliant display of synthetic explanatory skills.
emannuelk's review against another edition
2.0
Esse foi um livro bem diferente do que eu esperava. Entrei nele sabendo que tratava de um evento histórico real, mas imaginei que Huxley fosse apresentá-lo de uma forma mais próxima do romance, quando, na verdade, é algo mais parecido com uma pesquisa acadêmica de microhistória. Ou melhor, pareceria, se não fosse o fato de servir, ao mesmo tempo, como uma forma de apresentação do sistema teológico do autor. E essa visão é um pouco mais conservadora do que eu esperava. O apêndice, em especial, é fácil de relacionar com outras obras de Huxley, como Admirável Mundo Novo, mas os trechos do livro em si - e são muitos e muito longos - que tratam da transcendência fazem com que o tema geral do livro seja uma leitura vagamente védica da religiosidade cristã. A história de Grandier e do convento de freiras que foi considerado como tomado por demônios poderia ser um pano de fundo rico para a crítica das instituições religiosas, a manipulação da fé, a fabricação de discursos falsos para manobras políticas. E, até certo ponto, é. Mas todas essas questões são marginalizadas frente àquilo que realmente interessa ao autor: classificar os estados de consciência alterados em "bons" e "ruins". De acordo com sua ligação a um contexto metafísico. E existem fontes melhores para pensar nessas questões, me parece. É interessante ver, no entanto, um contexto histórico do que poderia ser uma definição de dicionário de "fake news".