Gargantua and Pantagruel: The Histories of Gargantua and Pantagruel (Classics)

The reviewer below complains that paragraphs have been invented. S/he uses this as a representative example of the numerous 'mistakes'. Yes, paragraphs have been invented but if you look at other modern translations - here on Amazon, where you can use the Look Inside feature - you will notice the paragraphs in Frame's and Raffel's versions break off at the same point as Cohen's, for whatever common purpose they have in mind (I assume readability). Urquhart's translation (incomplete, 17th century, finished by Motteux) is regarded as a classic, but it is not the "best", the most accurate or the most readable. The reviewer also insists Cohen's translation is not literal enough, as if this were a major fault. Literalness is not the most important, much less the only principle by which to judge a translation, it is one among many. Many readers who pick up the Urquhart today would probably be put off by Rabelais. (I am put off by the Raffel, though it is recent, so contemporaneity is not an overriding concern either.) Also remember Rabelais was writing in the early 16th century, and the language has changed significantly, so even the average French reader today engages in a certain degree of "translation" - comparing every word and syntactical deviation between the French and English texts is misleading. Literary translation is an inherently faulty art, and the translator has priorities that differ from the author's (you can't always be faithful to the author when the reader needs more attention); s/he is bound to make compromises. Not that comparison is impossible, nor that there is no such thing as a poor translation, but Cohen was one of the best in his trade and this translation, which I too have compared with the original text, is not particularly "worse" or "better" than Frame et al. Each of them lapses where another succeeds, each of them make choices that may be more or less accurate, reader-friendly, or grammatically consistent. To pick the first paragraph as an example again, Rabelais alludes to a popular saying of "Flacce" in the original - Frame translates the name as Flaccus, Cohen as Horace. The latter choice may seem egregious at first, but consider: Flaccus was a popular name in Rome and may stand for nearly any one of the several Roman personalities with Flaccus as a last name, whereas it would be quite clear to Latin readers, which most or all literate people of Rabelais' period and society were, that Rabelais is talking about Horace, whose full name was Quintus Horatius Flaccus. Frame remains literal, but Cohen opts to remove a possible early stumble for the contemporary reader. Yet, on the next page, Cohen does not translate the inscription HIC BIBITUR, but Frame does: "Here you drink".

If you want to choose a suitable translation, in this case, you have to decide which one appeals to you most by browsing several first; the scholarly-minded will have to learn the language anyway if they want to carry out a textual analysis. There are also previous versions by LeClerq and Putnam (one of the highly recommended translators of Cervantes). And of course, once you read Rabelais, the irony of discussing academic questions about his work won't evade you; though if it does, then you probably did pick a bad translation ...


Broad, Common, Vulgar, Crass and Unspeakably Funny!   April 29, 2002
Gary F. Taylor (Biloxi, MS USA)
38 out of 40 found this review helpful

If you thought the vulgar humor in such films as PORKY'S and AMERICAN PIE was a modern phenomena, you're in for a shock: both are fairly mild in comparison with the works of Rabelais, which plumb the depths of human crassness in full Renaissance style. Writing before European authors had codified the novel as a form, Rabelais presents a series of very episodic tales about the adventures of the giant Gargantua, his son Pantagruel, and Pantagruel's trickster friend Panurge--and the three vomit, belch, fart, and engage in a number of equally distasteful bodily functions across page after page in some of the funniest writings found in the whole of Western literature.

But unlike contemporary bad-taste comedy, Rabelais is hardly willing to let his reader go with just a laugh. There is sharp intelligence behind his naughty laughter--and he directs his considerable wit at everything from education to fashionable society in page after page of unspeakably hilarious incident. (My own favorite passage concerns the trick Panurge plays upon the fashionable, church-going lady who spurns his attentions; it never fails to throw me into near-hysterical laughter.) Vividly written and extremely memorable, GARGANTUA AND PANTAGRUEL is the sort of stuff they don't teach in highschool... and more's the pity: it would probably convert more students to the classics than all the Romantics combined. Truly serious scholars should, of course, compare various translations, but the Cohen translation will do the trick for the more casual reader. Strongly recommended.


It's all about the Bottle...   June 30, 2003
A.J. (Maryland)
20 out of 20 found this review helpful

Some years ago I read a quote by Rabelais -- something about whether a chimera bombinating in a vacuum could devour second intentions -- and I sensed that his humor might appeal to me. "Gargantua and Pantagruel," his literary landmark and the source of that quote, is a virtual encyclopedia of Renaissance satire that contrives a heroic epic as a backdrop for a comprehensive commentary of medieval and classical history and mythology.

The story, which concerns the adventures of the giant Gargantua, his son Pantagruel, and Pantagruel's friend Panurge, is completely silly; just scan the chapter titles in the table of contents for an indication. Silly, but not stupid: Rabelais is a serious scholar who has written a book that is not intended to be taken seriously. An epicure with an insatiable appetite for learning and a fascination with bodily functions, he believes that wine, scatology, and the pursuit of knowledge are inseparable. The book is all codpieces, urination, defecation, and flatulence at the service of satirizing the pedantry in the medical, legal, ecclesiastical, and academic professions as they existed in the sixteenth century. It should be noted that Rabelais's satire is generally playful and cheerful rather than bitter and mean-spirited, so the book's tone is always light even if its content is very erudite.

The plot, such as it is, is episodic rather than unified. Gargantua defends his country, Utopia, from invasion by King Picrochole of Lerne, in a war started by an argument between Utopian shepherds and Lernean cake-bakers; Pantagruel and Panurge then defend Utopia from invasion by Anarch, King of the Dipsodes; Panurge conducts inquiries among a variety of experts on whether or not he should get married, which leads to several discussions about cuckoldry, impotence, and cuckoldry as a consequence of impotence; and Pantagruel and Panurge, along with their monkish friend Friar John and several cohorts, embark on a sea voyage to consult the oracle of the Temple of the Bottle, visiting many strange islands and encountering many bizarre creatures along the way. As mentioned, it is of course all nonsense, but it is a definite precursor to the more farcical works of Jonathan Swift, Voltaire, Lewis Carroll, and James Joyce, and for that reason it has significant value as a ribald curiosity.


Not only a joyful and bawdy romp   October 27, 2005
IRA Ross (HOBOKEN, NJ United States)
9 out of 10 found this review helpful

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.


Multi-faceted laugh-a-minute and dead serious   October 15, 2003
Jack Purcell (Placitas, NM USA)
10 out of 15 found this review helpful

The praisers of Rabelais and this particular product he created have already expressed a lot of the truths to be found here, the exquisite style, the masterly satire. All they say is true and would be reason enough to read Gargantuan and Pentagruel. I won't repeat those laurels to affirm them. Instead, I'll suggest another reason a segment of readers might find Rabelais interesting. Followers of the Thelemic 'traditon' created by Aleister Crowley during the early 1900s might be surprised to discover Crowley's claims to having channeled the doctrine from Horus in Cairo in 1910, were preceded by Rabelais several centuries earlier. Rabelais creats an imaginary monastary and sect of monks he names, "Thelema", where a sign above the entry reads, "DO AS YOU WILL". Sound familiar? Buy this book and read on. But if you do so as an admirer of Crowley's channeling be prepared to experience a deflating of some of your balloons and butchering of a sacred cow for the barbeque.