Steve's Reviews > Our Lady of the Flowers

Where Oscar Wilde with The Picture of Dorian Gray or André Gide with The Immoralist stopped, having some pragmatic understanding of ‘proper’ social boundaries, Jean Genet merrily breezed by, all the way to the edges of our humanity, and for many, the most distasteful, repugnant of edges. This tale within a tale, swirling with explicit homoerotic, murderous and scatological themes, was constructed to satisfy the onanistic fantasies of our imprisoned main character, the author, and was written, and then rewritten, owing to the destruction of the first manuscript, during the German occupation.

I’m thinking I've found the greatest rewards in literature embedded in those works permitting free reflection of thought and removed from immediate commercial motivation. Others may have preceded M. Genet in their authenticity and courage, however, for me this feels groundbreaking. Then again, I wonder if a modern-day psychotherapist would think this 'just another day at the office?'