Arthur rimbaud most famous works

Paul verlaine
Rimbaud death
Rimbaud and verlaine relationship

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Arthur Rimbaud

Jean-Nicolas-Arthur Rimbaud was born October 20, 1854, in the small French town of Charleville. His father, an army captain, abandoned the family when he was six. By the age of thirteen, he had already won several prizes for his writing and was adept at composing verse in Latin. His teacher and mentor Georges Izambard nurtured his interest in literature, despite his mother’s disapproval.

Rimbaud began writing prolifically in 1870. That same year, his school shut down during the Franco-Prussian War, and he attempted to run away from Charleville twice but failing for lack of money. He wrote to the poet Paul Verlaine, who invited him to live in Paris with him and his new wife. Though Rimbaud’s moved out soon after, as a result of his harsh manners, he and Verlaine became lovers. Shortly after the birth of his son, Verlaine left his family to live with Rimbaud.

During their affair, which lasted nearly two years, they associated with the Paris literati and traveled to Belgium and England. While in Brussels in 1873, a drunk Verlaine shot Rimbaud in the hand. Verla

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Rimbaud: A Biography

May 17, 2014

I must state at the outset that my comments here do not constitute a review of Graham Robb’s biography of Rimbaud – not in any strict sense that I know, not entirely, that is. I, for one, am unable to form any conception of another life that might approach a clear and accurate approximation of past reality by grappling with only one biography. The reasons are many, and I need not recount them here. In the present case my remarks arise from a sense of the man that is a concoction of ingredients from at least three sources: Robb’s Arthur Rimbaud, Charles Nicholl’s, Somebody Else, and the elements of a biographical narrative that I formulate in response to absences and silences in these other sources. This is so, because I want most of all to end my encounter with Rimbaud, once and for all time, I hope, with a tenuous grasp of the sort of person he was and a rather definite - if speculative and erroneous - outline of the trajectory of this very interesting man’s life.

Regarding Arthur Rimbaud – my confection.
AR was, of course, a highly intelligen

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Arthur Rimbaud: A Biography

July 10, 2008

What is it about certain books that we buy and then leave untouched on the shelf? Or books we open now and then, sample a few paragraphs, then close and reshelve, temporizing: "Not in the mood"; "Too serious for summer"; "I need to read more about the period before trying this one"; "I need to learn French first." But you never learn French. And yet finally—many years after buying the book—a strategem comes to mind, and a few days later you've read it, enjoyed it, been somehow awakened by it. "What took me so long?"

The most recent instance of this strange phenomenon in my life has been my finally reading Enid Starkie's Arthur Rimbaud, the "new edition" issued by New Directions in 1961. For years, every time I'd looked into it, the fact that Starkie quotes Rimbaud's poems only in the original French made me put it off. Then the bright idea—my strategem—to read it with my various translations of Rimbaud close at hand: Fowlie's serviceable Complete Works and Selected Letters; Bertrand Mathieu's masterful, if idiosyncratic, A Season i