Gargantua and Pantagruel

thank you

The positives about this edition of Rabelais' five book epic are: 1) the full inclusion of all chapters in all the books 2) a very readable text by Burton Raffael. The negatives for me were the lack of notes (though somewhat a formidable task considering the bulk of the text presented) and the occasional anachronism in his choice of translated names. Pretty minor - I still prefer Putnam's translation in the hard to find "Portable Rabelais," but this edition offers a full exposure to all the books in a lively language that preserves the spirit and philosophical intent of Rabelais.

This review piggy-backs on to the review of "A Reader" from 2006, which usually (and appropriately) has the most "helpful" votes and winds up on top. No doubt A Reader's review is so helpful because it compares different translations of the same passage, thus giving us a flavor of each (and, thankfully for those of us who have a little French, provides the original as well). These comparisons are useful in helping us decide which version fits our preferences.My purpose is to add to his/her review by offering two other translations for comparison: that of J.M. Cohen, originally published by Penguin in 1955 and generally well-regarded, and that of Samuel Putnam, whose translation of Rabelais' complete works was first published in 1929 and was more recently published in abridged form in Viking's "Portabe Rabelais." Both are out of print, but used copies of each are readily available through amazon's Marketplace vendors.Here's Cohen:"Grandgousier was a good jester in his time, with as great a love of tossing off a glass as any man then in the world. He had also quite a liking of salt meat. For this reason he generaly kept a good store of Mayence and Bayonne hams, plenty of smoked ox-tongues, an abundance of chitterlings in their season and beef pickled in mustard, a supply of botargos, and a provision of sausages; though not of Bologna sausages, for he feared Lombard concoctions -- but those from Bigorre, Longaulnay, La Brenne, and Le Rouergue. In the prime of his years he married Gargamelle, daughter of the king of the Butterflies, a fine, good-looking piece, and the pair of them often played the two-baked beast, joyfully rubbing their bacons together, to such effect that she became pregnant of a fine boy and carried him into the eleventh month."Now, here's Putnam:"Grandgousier was a jolly good fellow in his day, liking to drink heartily as well as any man in the world at that time, and he was very fond of salty food. For this reason, he ordinarily had on hand a good supply of Mayence and Bayonne hams, a lot of smoked beef-tongues, an abundance of chitterlings in season and salt-beef with mustard, a store of fish-eggs, pressed and dried, and plenty of sausages -- not those of Bologna (for he was afraid of the Lombard poison) but those from Bigorre, from Longaulnay, from La Brenne and from Rouergue. When he was of manly age, he was married to Gargamelle, daughter of the Kind of the Butterflies, a pretty wench with a good mug on her. And these two played the beast-with-two-backs, rubbing their bacons together hilariously, and doing it so often that she became pregnant with a fine son and carried him up to the eleventh month."While I have no doubt that Cohen strikes nearly an ideal balance between scholarly fastidiousness and readability, I marginally perfer Putnam. Notice that Putnam doesn't assume that English-speakers would know what "botargos" are and translates them as "fish eggs, pressed and dried" -- a nice touch. His use of words which English speakers associate with Shakespearian English, such as "wench" rather than Cohen's "piece", makes the text easily understandable while adding a period flavor. On the other hand, Putnan falls flat in his translation of "joyosement" (joyousement) as "hilariously" (I really do think "joyfully" fits the meaning better), and Cohen's more plain style may catch the crass aspects of the original a little better.Ultimately each translation will have its own flavor, and I would figure Rabelais to be a challenge to translate. One has to be able to switch from the bawdy to the erudite in a flash, to catch the parodies of style and somehow render them into their English equivalents. In general, I have found that the most literal translations have been the least compelling, and prefer those which catch the idiom and find its English equivalent. I find both Cohen and Putnam do that well, albeit from differing perspectives.Putnam's translation is only readily available in its abridged form, but if you are starting out with Rabelais it may be a good beginning. Cohen's, the standard edition in many eyes for some time, is complete.Hopefully A Reader's review, and this coda to it, will aid you in your search.

The title characters of this amazing classic are father and son, respectively. Gargantua is so huge that men climbing into his mouth got stuck in the crevices of his teeth as if they were food particles. Pantagruel, while being born, was so enormous that his unfortunate mother had to be ripped open to accomodate his exit from her womb._Gargantua and Pantagruel_ has lots of screamingly funny toilet humor, so much so, that occasionally I had to prevent myself from falling off my seat with laughter. Yet, there is really nothing pornographic about this book. There is absolutely no graphic sexual activity. Rabelais often quotes Greek, Roman, and French philosophers and intellectuals while recounting his tales. Rabelais also effectively satirizes political leaders, judges, Churchmen, and taste-makers of his day.On his voyages to foreign lands, Pantagruel, takes along, among others, his closest friend, Panurge and Friar John. Seemingly a braggart, Panurge is really a man suffering from great insecurity and cowardness. He is as loveable as the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz. Panurge is also very introspective and learns quite a bit about himself by the conclusion of the book. The monk, Friar John, is, on the other hand, a brave and swashbuckling character, who would not hesitate to run a sword through a seeming enemy. Many of the surroundings and individuals on these uniquely strange places are so unusual and the situations so inventive that they boggle the mind.I read _Gargantua and Pantagruel_ in the Modern Library edition, which was fortunate, because some of the earlier translations used too formal English (lots of "thees" and "thous" and "haths).This is a book of great intelligence and thoughtfulness, which, as I noted at the beginning of this review, is also delightfully bawdy and imaginative. I only wish one of my high school English teachers had made _Gargantua and Pantagruel_ required reading.

This book is the best one I have ever read for using sexual and execretory references for effective satire. The optimal reader is probably a boy aged 8-13 who loves to explore the world from this perspective already. Older readers will enjoy the social commentary as well, but may not revel in the means of the commentary unless they like extensive references to bodily functions.The use of the humor in this book is like slapstick is to comedy, its most outrageous and least restrained form.No one can stay grumpy while reading this book. It may be the only literary solution for depression ever developed.Obviously, if you can read French, it is even better in the original.Many people will choose not to read this book because of the earthy nature of the language. That is probably a mistake, because those who make that choice are suffering from the unattractiveness stall, not seeing the swan in the ugly duckling. Earthy humor can be a great way to communicate, in the appropriate circumstances. You owe it to yourself to learn how a master, Rabelais, does it.As a tip to the reader who has more sensitive tastes, I suggest you skip through to the end of sections that are bothering you. The very next section may well be one that leaves you in uncontrolled laughter, irresistibly lightening your mood.Have a great laugh!

Very good translation, readable, and very funny.