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medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
Reading The Flowers of Evil again after years felt like opening a door to a room I used to find fascinating—dark, ornate, and full of strange mirrors. But now, the reflection no longer holds the same allure. As someone drawn to poetry for its power to explore humanity through metaphor and natural imagery, I once admired Baudelaire’s brutal honesty and sensual expressionism. Today, however, I find his obsessions more macabre than meaningful.
Baudelaire, like a literary twin of Dorian Gray, writes as a man both enthralled by sin and embittered by it. His poetic voice often feels like that of a wounded soul railing against God, unable to see beyond the pain of the world to the deeper truth that God is love—and that we are meant to reflect that love. His work reveals a tragic confusion: an age that twisted religion into structure without spirit, where grace was lost in cold ritual. In that context, it's not hard to see how he, like many, responded with rebellion rather than reverence.
His longing is palpable—searching for meaning through sex, poetry, and fleeting pleasures. There are moments of dreamlike escape, such as his fascination with the sea, yet even these glimpses seem tainted by his inner torment. Rather than looking outward with hope, he looks inward with despair. He writes from a heart more bruised than open, and much of his poetry feels like an attempt to aestheticize that suffering.
When I first encountered this book as a teenager, it felt revolutionary. It opened me to the darker complexities of poetry I had not known before, and I treasured it enough to own a personal copy—something I reserve for only my favorites. I read countless poets' works that year, and most had a unique way of writing that set them apart from others. I found what I liked, what worked, and what didn't, both personally and in general. To think and feel it for myself, as books commend the power to do so with time. However, upon re-reading this work years later, I found it repetitive, weighed down by overused imagery and an almost indulgent embrace of despair. It left me uninspired, and I was surprised by how few annotations I was compelled to make.
Baudelaire does reflect something of the human condition: when we cannot find the light, we often invent false versions of it, seeking meaning in the material, sensual, and sorrowful aspects of life. But rereading this now, as someone who has grown both as a poet and a Christian, the collection felt hollow, an echo of a voice trying to exalt pain as beauty without ever transcending it.
Many liken Baudelaire to Poe, and I can see that. His work feels like a blend of Great Expectations' disillusionment, Dorian Gray's moral decay, and the decadent aesthetic of the film Tulip Fever, an intriguing fusion, but ultimately a disservice to poetry when it stops at despair and anger for nearly every poem.
Some liken it to the depth of the soul, heart, and humanity, but never surpassing a hope or love without bitter hatred of oneself or total disallowance of love beyond oneself and desire, beyond pagan love for anything seen as an idol, acknowledging God to mock and hate in anguish and disapproval and even limiting him to being a concept when he didn't blame Him who Charles couldn't seem to decide whether or not existed. He loved the story of Icarus and Satan because he felt the balance of saints, sinners and structure of this world was off the tables and most notably, defined perspective of those hurt and outcasted in the face and name of a religion that no longer served the people or came from a place of love as it always should have been. The lost without an understanding of how to turn to hope if they feel that the source is denied them. That is the part worth reading at all.
I once admired this gothic man and his haunted verses. But I’ve outgrown his overseasoned lyricism and with it, the need to return to better parts of me. I consider the spines of books to be portals into wisdom and worlds I hold close to my heart. Characters, moments, and even trials from another soul somewhere reveal the depths of their being to the reader who takes the time to listen with an open heart and mind, and we find pieces of ourselves within the volumes in the process. It's revealed in the way we talk about our favorite books, showing hidden aspects of ourselves that we've gained through the process of experiencing them. Compassion and understanding for what we may never have lived on our own, but care about. This is a book I no longer choose to keep, not out of hate, but simply because I no longer hear my heart in its pages.
emotional
inspiring
medium-paced
adventurous
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
dark
emotional
funny
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Never ever again, I cannot do poetry in a huge book like this. I had a few select poems I really enjoyed but generally I forced myself through this to say I finished it. One whole year (and a few months) later and I managed the task. I can’t say the poetry was necessarily bad, I actually prefer the straightforwardness of most of them, but regardless I did not have fun reading this book. I will not be consuming any more poetry for the foreseeable future now.
dark
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
3.5 Sterne!
Es waren sehr schöne Gedichte dabei, doch insgesamt fand ich es nicht wirklich besonders.
Es waren sehr schöne Gedichte dabei, doch insgesamt fand ich es nicht wirklich besonders.