Maurice Sc?ve's life reads like side-plot in Paul Auster novel. Shortly after completing humanistic biblical epic of three thou sand alexandrines, he disappeared in plague in the mid-sixteenth century; Joyce's French translators rediscovered his works in the 1920s. These works comprise an anonymous translation of popular Spanish romance novel, the orchestration of elaborate court pag eantry, miscellaneous writings attributed to his friends (perhaps), and the first Petrarchan canzoniere to be written in French, the 449 stanza D?lie. In Emblems of Desire, Richard Sieburth translates eighty eight stanzas from throughout the larger work. They appear along side woodcut illustrations that originally accompanied the poems. Given Sc?ve's love of hoax (the most solid fact of his biography is an anecdote about uncovering the tomb of Petrarch's Laura) and back-cover blurb by Auster himself hailing this edition as a miracle of literary invention, conspiracy-minded reader might seek ana grams and errant contemporary allusions that expose the volume as fake. I have since confirmed Sc?ve's existence as literary fact but still defend my suspicion: D?lie seems as singular as make-believe. Sc?ve's project resembles Petrarch's and would be good prompt for creative writing class: fall in love with someone who rejects you, then write hundreds of poems charting your passion's tor ments and trills. Unlike Petrarch and Dante, though, Sc?ve, the humanist, has no hope for reunion in the afterlife. As result, the beloved's bodily absence cannot instruct him in divine pleasures. If the Italian poets construct spiraling ascents, Sc?ve flattens widen ing patch in field. Some mornings, the stalks have grown back and he writes like someone in Dante's Hell: time exists with variations that resemble development, but, in the end, it only accumulates. The scythe Sc?ve swings strikes in ten-line dizains (rhymes with dizzying). Each of these stanzas considers an aspect of his obses
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