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A review by paul_viaf
Dark Spring by Unica Zürn
3.0
Imagine a mutated child of Marquis de Sade whose uncontrollable urge eviscerates the host. The protagonist is inhabited by the genes of a misfit. Dark spring suggests an atypical masochistic sexual awakening. Spring is so often used a synonym for sexual awakening or rebirth. But what is born is something so intriguing, a mixture of the primal innocence of a predator devouring their prey in a visceral & erotic way. An anomaly which is so complex & hard to diagnose. Yet the story manages to retain a childish naivete which lingers & makes for fine humor.
Abundant are distorted views of sexuality, an infatuation with perversion, vulgarity fetishized, sadomasochism enveloped, a perfuse masturbation to the point of agitation. She becomes transfixed. The demonic seems to be innate. Pain stimulates. Deviant behavior buds as thorns on a visually pure bloom. Detail is limited. Detail is not absent in, what many may find as, grotesque sexual accounts, but in the psychology behind the tension & consternation of the character. She skims over these dysfunctions as if they were not large craters of disturbing behavior & yet I sympathize with her erratic thoughts. Still, she skims over the psychosis. Perhaps ideas are left up for the audience to decide. I find the fact that the main character is a child only adds to the offensiveness one might assert to the work. The character seems to paradoxically absorb the seclusion thrust upon her but the author does not. There is a convolution between her creations & reality. She cannot define herself outside of artistic endeavors. She is incomplete. & yet I think of the courage & honesty it must take to write a story which seems to bare so much. Though it is not necessarily an autobiographical piece, it is certainly based on living experiences, quite revealing experiences.
I sympathize with the mad. I find madness not so mad. I find the shocking does not shock so much. I find the deviant a worthy subject. I wander through the rational thought process that occurs when she contemplates suicide. To bring coherency to a seemingly unnatural thought almost exonerates what is seen as a blasphemous cause. The character, the author, this book begs the question, what is reality amongst the mad. Perception ultimately defines reality. How much of this perception is of a conscious assertion on the host’s behalf. I feel as though this is not a cathartic piece of writing because Zurn eventually commits suicide. It is a cold recounting. A sort of pre-documentation of the fatal ordeal. How I long to understand the roots of such psychological torment. The only way I can describe the mindset of both character & author is as an asexual parasite which reproduces at an alarming rate while feeding on the very festering of its own anatomy. It is a disturbing read but one I do not want to ignore or regret knowing. It is blatantly honest. It may shock many. It is not for the faint. It is as mental illness itself. It must first be confronted to be finally understood.
Abundant are distorted views of sexuality, an infatuation with perversion, vulgarity fetishized, sadomasochism enveloped, a perfuse masturbation to the point of agitation. She becomes transfixed. The demonic seems to be innate. Pain stimulates. Deviant behavior buds as thorns on a visually pure bloom. Detail is limited. Detail is not absent in, what many may find as, grotesque sexual accounts, but in the psychology behind the tension & consternation of the character. She skims over these dysfunctions as if they were not large craters of disturbing behavior & yet I sympathize with her erratic thoughts. Still, she skims over the psychosis. Perhaps ideas are left up for the audience to decide. I find the fact that the main character is a child only adds to the offensiveness one might assert to the work. The character seems to paradoxically absorb the seclusion thrust upon her but the author does not. There is a convolution between her creations & reality. She cannot define herself outside of artistic endeavors. She is incomplete. & yet I think of the courage & honesty it must take to write a story which seems to bare so much. Though it is not necessarily an autobiographical piece, it is certainly based on living experiences, quite revealing experiences.
I sympathize with the mad. I find madness not so mad. I find the shocking does not shock so much. I find the deviant a worthy subject. I wander through the rational thought process that occurs when she contemplates suicide. To bring coherency to a seemingly unnatural thought almost exonerates what is seen as a blasphemous cause. The character, the author, this book begs the question, what is reality amongst the mad. Perception ultimately defines reality. How much of this perception is of a conscious assertion on the host’s behalf. I feel as though this is not a cathartic piece of writing because Zurn eventually commits suicide. It is a cold recounting. A sort of pre-documentation of the fatal ordeal. How I long to understand the roots of such psychological torment. The only way I can describe the mindset of both character & author is as an asexual parasite which reproduces at an alarming rate while feeding on the very festering of its own anatomy. It is a disturbing read but one I do not want to ignore or regret knowing. It is blatantly honest. It may shock many. It is not for the faint. It is as mental illness itself. It must first be confronted to be finally understood.