Masterpiece or pretentious garbage?

Masterpiece or pretentious garbage?

you made the same thread on /tv/

make up your own mind

Degenerate.

>The book and film are the same

I wouldn't call it pretentious, because it stays so consistently with the same themes, over and over again, totally driven on repetition. It is in a way /consciously banal/, and simply wholly insistent on completing its project.

It is far, far worse than the movie. No memeing, now: the closest "oh I just feel like a shitty human being now just for consuming this, fuck" vibe I've had is Cannibal Holocaust.

Escorted by Desgranges and Duclos, the Duc and Curval make a journey to the cellars with Augustine in the course of that night; her ass has been preserved in excellent condition, 'tis now lashed to tatters, then the two brothers alternately embugger her, but guard their seed, and then the Duc gives her fifty-eight wounds in the buttocks, pours boiling oil into each gash. He drives a hot iron into her cunt, another into her ass, and fucks her wounded charms, his prick sheathed in a sealskin condom which worsens the already lamentable state of her privities. That accomplished, the flesh is peeled away from the bones of her arms and legs, which bones are sawed in several different places, then her nerves are laid bare in four adjacent places, the nerve ends are tied to a short stick which, like a tourniquet, is twisted, thus drawing forth the aforesaid nerves, which are very delicate parts of the human anatomy and, which, when mistreated, cause the patient to suffer much. Augustine's agonies are unheard-of.

She is given some respite and allowed to recruit her strength, then Messieurs resume work, but this time, as the nerves are pulled into sight, they are scraped with the blade of a knife. The friends complete that operation and now move elsewhere; a hole is bored in her throat, her tongue is drawn back, down, and passed through it, 'tis a comical effect, they broil her remaining breast, then, clutching a scalpel, the Duc thrusts his hand into her cunt and cuts through the partition dividing the anus from the vagina; he throws aside the scalpel, reintroduces his hand, and rummaging about in her entrails, forces her to shit through her cunt, another amusing stunt; then, availing himself of the same entrance, he reaches up and tears open her stomach. Next, they concentrate upon her visage: cut away her ears, burn her nasal passages, blind her eyes with molten sealing wax, girdle her cranium, hang her by the hair, attach heavy stones to her feet, and allow her to drop: the top of the skull remains dangling.

She was still breathing when she fell, and the Duc encunted her in this sorry state; he discharged and came away only the more enraged. They split her belly, opened her, and applied fire to her entrails; scalpel in hand, the Président burrows in her chest and harasses her heart, puncturing it in several places. 'Twas only then her soul fled her body; at the age of fifteen years and eight months thus perished one of the most heavenly creatures ever formed by Nature's skillful hand. Etc. Her eulogy.

Because of this post, I decided to read it. As much as it's not the "done" thing to appear shocked by anything you want to discuss on Veeky Forums, it's pretty horrific. I wouldn't say it's a masterpiece, but even in the course of reading it, I did become somewhat desensitised to the content. That final section is just one horrible torture after another, but even still I still found myself making value judgements as to which ones would be preferable because when you are faced with such a list, it's the only real reaction one can have.

I had watched the Pasolini adaptation but that wasn't anywhere near the book (which is probably for the best)

The effect is certainly interesting: that the reader somewhat becomes less reactive to the obscenity of the acts because of how awful some of them are in comparison to others. It's an unremitting text in its pursuit of further depravity and the fact that it's so unapologetic about it does add a layer of gravitas that elevates it

The passage itself isn't overwhelming. It's the mounting moral depravity. After 10 people being raped to death you become desensitized, after 50 you start to feel uneasy at 70 and the acts become somehow worse and it never pauses you just get overwhelmed.
I have no idea if DeSade was trying to provoke this response but I've never felt anything like it before in a book.

I think the process is also accentuated by the fact that the book moves from less-obscene to highly disturbing. If you're already desensitised after 10 rape-deaths, then 50, treated just as another figure would likely not affect you so much. The issue is that the situation is not calmed by the fact that each of these particularly awful interactions are unremitting.

Masterpiece, but you're pretentious garbage if you read it

Your tenses are confused in the sense that you refer to the OP (not me) and the long pretentious post/passage (mine ITT), and claim that "this post" (which) made you read the book, something you had by context already done, in the past.

Do you see my confusion now? Admittedly I have zeroed in on that passage and posted it on Veeky Forums a few times before, so maybe you're referring to one of those earlier posts. I'm curious if that was the case, or else what you really meant by your above language.

This is a fair sentiment.

Something worth pondering over are the "classes" of the text. Depending on how you read, there are 8-10 classes of people, which break down as follows:

The Four Friends (the Evil Protagonists)
The Four Storytellers (their muses and accomplices, who tell stories which occupy large parts of the body of the text, and which inspire the later dungeon shenanigans on a nightly basis)
The Four Duennas (old, decrepit, disgusting women used to herd the victims and to excite the Friend's passion for the ugly, when they get bored of the pretty). Fanchon deserves special mention for being the most impossibly rancid object in the entire book; I like to think that some really ugly moon or asteroid will be named for her someday.
The Four Daughter-Wives, the Friends' daughters who are variously, incestuously, married off to the men, though never in a direct father-daughter wise so as to keep up apperances.
The Eight Fuckers (THIS CLASS SUBDIVIDES INTO THE NAMED, SUPERIOR, BIGGER-DICKED AND MORE-FAVORED FUCKERS, and the lesser, un-named so-called sub-altern fuckers). The muscle which keeps the proceedings going.
The Eight Little Boys, two apiece being ages 12, 13, 14 and 15.
The Eight Little Girls, two apiece being ages 12, 14, 14 and 15.
The Six Help (THIS CLASS IS MOSTLY BEHIND-THE SCENES, BEING DRAWN IN ONLY AT THE END, AND CONSISTS OF THREE COOKS AND THREE SCULLION-MAIDS WHO ARE STOUT, READY SLUTS).

The remarkable thing about the final tally is how the wicked and strong totally and completely triumph over the innocent and the weak, down to their classes. The survivors are precisely the friends, the storytellers, the four SUPERIOR fuckers, just one daughter-wife who has been suitably corrupted, and the three cooks who are spared because they were background all along. The innocent and weak, especially the boys, girls and old crone duennas, are all killed - to complete the treachery, the subaltern fuckers are all killed as well, having outlived their usefulness.