Rimbaud has ratings and 45 reviews. Eddie said: There will never be a single biography that does Rimbaud total justice, and that’s as it should be be. ‘Robb has written a great biography – scholarly, humane and above all marvelously Graham Robb’s brilliant biography moves Rimbaud on from his perpetual. In this robust biography, Robb (Balzac; Victor Hugo) contemplates the life of Arthur Rimbaud () as if the French poet/ vagabond’s deeds were those of.

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Read, highlight, and take notes, across web, tablet, and phone. I suspect its hard to argue with that. No trivia or quizzes yet. Also Rimbaud was one of Jim Robb convincingly revises the tale of the second half.

Rimbaud: A Biography by Graham Robb

Rimbaud Graham Robb No preview available – It is an extraordinary achievement for someone just over No one could have seen what Rimbaud was doing, because it was completely unprecedented and unimaginable; a schoolboy somehow writing some of the greatest masterpieces of French poetry.

Sex, it appears, like anarchist politics or poetry itself, was never more to “the man with soles of wind” than a means to an end. I’ll return with iron limbs; dark skin, a furious look: This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers.

Some readers may feel this makes the book an exercise in psycho-biography, yet Robb cites contemporaries who observed that, if one knew the mother, it was understandable that Arthur took to the road. This book is beautifully written and completely intoxicating.


Dirty deeds at the Dead Rat

Dec 13, Amelia rated it it was amazing. As a child, AR — like Margret Fuller — went into rrimbaud, in compartments. But his posthumous career is even more astonishing: I appreciated that the author also talked about some of the misconceptions and lies of Rimbaud.

But one burning question remains unanswered: Aug 05, Richard Newton rated it really liked it Shelves: Open Preview See a Problem? Poetry came quickly, but it was quite unlike the usual productions of rimbad prodigious teenage poet; it showed, from the start, a complete mastery of French classical forms and prosody, combined with an alarmingly original style.

Apr 17, Rebecca rated it it was amazing. I I had heard his life story before knowing any of his poetry. Nov 17, Hal rated it liked it. Enormous profit of a different kind is what I reaped in reading this masterpiece of biography.

Robb has written a marvellous biography, which pieces all this together from scraps of evidence. Jul 18, Solor rated it it was amazing. Later he drifted his way to east Africa to get involved in gun t A lengthy in depth biography of the poet Arthur Rimbaud. In this phase, he tires of all this smashing grahak convention and constraint.

And so AR jettisons entirely whatever past his current way of life has accumulated — to the point of loosing memory of it. Apr 14, J. This is an excellent biography on the “enfant terrible” Arthur Rimbaud, from his days as a filthy, lice-infested anarchic boy genius who wrote avant-gard p.

Pan Macmillan- Poets, French – pages. Jan 10, Michael rated it liked it Shelves: Poets are made by what they read, but nothing will gimbaud you come to the ‘Vowels’ sonnet; it is as unprecedented as the ‘Sonnet to the Arsehole’. From phenomenally precocious schoolboy The poetry is hard to describe and exhilarating, mad, exhausting in effect. It’s rare for a biographer to have more than one really good biography in him; by his third, passionate involvement has traham given way to a sense of duty.


A great biography is an achievement, but when the gifted, wry, and far-seeing Robb meets the combustible Rimbaud, it’s straight-up bliss for the reader. Jun 27, Shawn Grall rated it it was amazing.

So why do we exist? Paperbackpages.

Review: Rimbaud by Graham Robb | Books | The Guardian

I’ll be idle and brutal Taciturn to the end, Rimbaud never tells. He was always riding the wave of the Present Tense or even ahead of it, in the never-attained Future as long as he lived, full of contradictions only to those who want ed to figure him out. He lives in Oxford. We see the filthy peasant boy in Paris or endlessly on the road, with lice in his hair cultivated “to flick at passing priests”; the scourge of polite Parnassian poets; the vagabond years with Verlaine in Belgium and London; the prematurely wizened, knuckle-headed trader in east Africa; finally, the haggard, semi-delirious amputee, dying of leg cancer at the Hpital de la Conception in Marseille.

He disappeared for weeks and months at a time, sleeping rough and leaving no record.