Patrick Süskind

Patrick Süskind's Perfume is a classic novel of death and sensuality in Paris - now available for the first time in ebook In eighteenth-century France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, and if his name has been forgotten today, it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance, misanthropy, immorality, or, more succinctly, wickedness, but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent . . . 'An astonishing tour de force both in concept and execution' Guardian 'A fantastic tale of murder and twisted eroticism controlled by a disgusted loathing of humanity ... Clever, stylish, absorbing and well worth reading' Literary Review 'A meditation on the nature of death, desire and decay ... a remarkable début' Peter Ackroyd, The New York Times Book Review 'Unlike anything else one has read. A phenomenon ... Everyone seems to want to get a whiff of this strange perfume, which will remain unique in contemporary literature' Figaro 'An ingenious and totally absorbing fantasy' Daily Telegraph 'Witty, stylish and ferociously absorbing' Observer

The Story of a Murderer

Perfume

Patrick Süskind's Perfume is a classic novel of death and sensuality in Paris'In eighteenth-century France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, and if his name has been forgotten today, it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance, misanthropy, immorality, or, more succinctly, wickedness, but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent . . .''An astonishing tour de force both in concept and execution' Guardian'A fantastic tale of murder and twisted eroticism controlled by a disgusted loathing of humanity ... Clever, stylish, absorbing and well worth reading' Literary Review'A meditation on the nature of death, desire and decay ... a remarkable début' Peter Ackroyd, The New York Times Book Review'Unlike anything else one has read. A phenomenon ... Everyone seems to want to get a whiff of this strange perfume, which will remain unique in contemporary literature' Figaro'An ingenious and totally absorbing fantasy' Daily Telegraph'Witty, stylish and ferociously absorbing' ObserverPatrick Süskind was born near Munich, in 1949. He studied medieval and modern history at the University of Munich. His first play, The Double Bass, was written in 1980 and became an international success. His first novel, Perfume, became an internationally acclaimed bestseller. He is also the author of The Pigeon and Mr. Summer's Story, and a coauthor of the enormously successful German television series Kir Royal. Patrick Süskind lives and writes in Munich.

Luiza Fernandes Metzker

hours if they are exposed to the air in a pure, unbound form. The perfumer counteracts this fatal circumstance by binding scents that are too volatile by putting them in chains, so to speak, taming their urge for freedom - though his art consists of leaving enough slack in the chains for the odour seemingly to preserve its freedom, even when it is tied so deftly that it cannot flee.

Indeed, human odour was of no importance to him what-ever. He could imitate human odour quite well enough with surrogates. What he coveted was the odour of certain human beings: that is, those rare humans who inspire love.

For people could close their eyes to great-ness, to horrors, to beauty, and their ears to melodies or deceiving words. But they could not escape scent. For scent was a brother of breath. Together with breath it entered human beings, who could not defend themselves against it, not if they wanted to live. And scent entered into their very core, went directly to their hearts, and decided for good and all between affection and contempt, disgust and lust, love and hate. He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.

He knew that he could improve on this scent. He would be able to create a scent that was not merely human, but superhuman, an angel's scent, so indescribably good and vital that whoever smelled it would be enchanted and with his whole heart would have to love him, Grenouille, the bearer of that scent.

The catastrophe was not an earthquake, nor a forest fire, nor an avalanche, nor a cave-in. It was not an external catastrophe at all, but an internal one, and as such particularly distressing, because it blocked Grenouille's favourite means of escape. It happened in his sleep. Or rather, in his dreams. Or better still, in a dream while he slept in the heart of his fantasies.

Until now he had thought that it was the world in general he had wanted to squirm away from. But it was not the world, it was the people in it. You could live, so it seemed, in this world, in this world devoid of humanity.

You can’t do it. Of course you can’t. You’re one of those people who know whether there is chervil or parsley in the soup at meal-time. That’s fine, there’s something to be said for that. But that doesn’t make you a cook, not by a long shot. Whatever the art or whatever the craft — and make a note of this before you go — talent means next to nothing, while experience, acquired in humility and with hard work, means everything

Perfume must be smelled in its efflorescence, gaseous state, never as a concentrate. He sprinkled a few drops on to the handkerchief, waved it in the air to drive off the alcohol, and then held it to his nose. In three short, jerky tugs, he snatched up the scent as if in were a powder, immediately blew it out again, fanned himself, took another sniff in waltz time, and finally drew one long, deep breath, which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses, as if letting it slide down a long, gently sloping staircase.

'Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a pre-human being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil.

Can he talk already, perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk?

Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?'

Lilianne

Stand in front of that mirror there and regard yourself. You will realize for the first time in your life that you are a human being; not a particularly extraordinary or in any fashion distinguished one, but nevertheless a perfectly acceptable human being.

That is to say, he fought the fear of knowing with the fear of not knowing, and he won the battle, because he knew he had no choice.

And even knowing that to possess that scent he must pay the terrible price of losing it again, the very possession and the loss seemed to him more desirable than a prosaic renunciation of both.

One must subdue its evanescence without robbing it of its character—problem of the perfumer’s art.

He succeeded in being considered totally uninteresting. People left him alone. And that was all he wanted.

Il profumo

Sopportava soltanto la luce della luna. La luce della luna non conosceva colori e si limitava a disegnare debolmente i contorni del paesaggio. Ricopriva la campagna di un grigio sporco, e fermava la vita per una notte. Questo mondo come fuso nel piombo, in cui nulla si muoveva tranne il vento, che talvolta passava come un’ombra sui boschi grigi, e in cui nulla viveva se non gli aromi della nuda terra, era l’unico mondo possibile per lui, poiché era simile al mondo della sua anima.

Finora aveva sempre creduto che fosse il mondo in generale, da cui doveva fuggire. Ma non era il mondo, erano gli uomini. Con il mondo - gli sembrava -, con il mondo deserto si poteva convivere.

Non mirava a diventare ricco con la sua arte, non voleva neppure vivere della sua arte, se era possibile vivere diversamente. Voleva esternare ciò che aveva dentro di sé, nient’altro, il suo sé, che per lui valeva molto più di tutto quello che poteva offrire il mondo circostante.

Ma per uscire di scena così discretamente avrebbe dovuto avere un minimo di gentilezza innata, cosa che Grenouille non possedeva. Fin dall'inizio fu un mostro. Si decise a favore della vita per puro dispetto e per pura malvagità.

Il grido dopo la sua nascita, il grido emesso sotto il banco da macello, con il quale aveva dato notizia di sé e aveva portato sua madre al patibolo, non era stato un grido istintivo di pietà e d'amore. Era stato un grido ben meditato, si potrebbe quasi dire lungamente meditato, con cui il neonato si era pronunciato 

In the slums of eighteenth-century France, the infant Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born with one sublime gift—an absolute sense of smell. As a boy, he lives to decipher the odors of Paris, and apprentices himself to a prominent perfumer who teaches him the ancient art of mixing precious oils and herbs. But Grenouille's genius is such that he is not satisfied to stop there, and he becomes obsessed with capturing the smells of objects such as brass doorknobs and fresh-cut wood. Then one day he catches a hint of a scent that will drive him on an ever-more-terrifying quest to create the "ultimate perfume"—the scent of a beautiful young virgin. Told with dazzling narrative brilliance, Perfume is a hauntingly powerful tale of murder and sensual depravity.

Perfume (International Writers)

Nica

For people could close their eyes to greatness, to horrors, to beauty, and their ears to melodies or deceiving words. But they could not escape scent. For scent was a brother of breath. Together with breath it entered human beings, who could not defend themselves against it, not if they wanted to live. And scent entered into their very core, went directly to their hearts, and decided for good and all between affection and contempt, disgust and lust, love and hate.

The latent stench lay lost and unnoticeable under the fresh ingredients; the nauseous part, pampered by the scent of flowers, had become almost interesting; and, strangely enough, there was no putrefaction left to smell, not the least. On the contrary, the perfume seemed to exhale the robust, vivacious scent of life.

“Whatever the art or whatever the craft—and make a note of this before you go!—talent means next to nothing, while experience, acquired in humility and with hard work, means everything.”

He fashioned grotesqueries, only to destroy them again immediately, like a child playing with blocks—inventive and destructive, with no apparent norms for his creativity.

Helen 

The sea smelled like a sail whose billows had caught up water, salt and a cold sun. 

An intriguing premise that somehow reads a bit like non-fiction in the way it's written. Fun and fast read.

BC Hark

Ein rares Meisterwerk zeitgenössischer Prosa, eine dicht gesponnene, psychologisch raffiniert umgesetzte Erzählung, die an die frühen Stücke von Patricia Highsmith erinnert, in ihrer Kunstfertigkeit aber an die Novellistik großer europäischer Erzähltradition anknüpft.

die Geschichte eines Mörders

Das Parfum

Es ist ein wundervolles Werk, das man ungern aus der Hand legen möchte! 

Hadisa

Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is abandoned on the filthy streets of eighteenth-century Paris as a baby, but grows up to discover he has an extraordinary gift- a sense of smell more powerful than any other human's. Gradually he learns how to exploit this gift in the art of creating the most sublime perfumes in France. Yet there is one scent he cannot capture- the scent of an innocent young virgin. In order to perfect his experiments, he must have this final ingredient, at any cost. A cult international bestseller, Perfume is a bewitching, darkly humorous fable of desire, obsession and death.

frankly i'm astonished at how early in i decided this would become one of my favourite books, and i'm more surprised i was right. i could wax poetic about everything i think süskind did masterfully — and we'd be here forever — but i will just say i truly loved it. my god, what an ending. 

rory

First of all, the unique premise: a boy born without body odor but with an peculiar strong sense of smell. A brilliant book, it’s almost as if you could breathe and smell through the exquisitely written olfactory experience. Set with the background of 18th-century France, when societies reeked of horrendous stench. To describe the plot, it’s painfully torturous yet pleasantly disgusting at the same time. So grotesque. The way it’s written makes you feel and wonder. It’s a truly rich sensory experience, filled with scientific scent-related vocabulary. It won’t please you the way it did to me if you’re not into slow burns and indirect descriptive proses.

(From here onward, this is my interpretation of the book. Expect glimpses of 

I love how Süßkind portrays the hypocrisy of human and their morality, giving you a lens to see how complex people are. It exaggerates many aspects, but I suppose that’s the fun of magical realism. How easily Richis’ feelings could change because of a scent. The whole scene was spectacular, wasn’t it?

The flawed main character, Grenouille—whose name apparently means ‘frog’ in French—is born without body odor and has a quite monstrous face. And no, I never despised him, especially after the ending. I ended up feeling empathetic and pitying him.

Grenouille never really knew how to love or what love even was. Abandoned as a child, has suffered through obnoxious and painful sickness, yet he always had the will to survive. His body seemingly became immune to anything—which explains why he could live so easily in the forest—with the result of experiencing the utmost invisibility and loneliness. But, yes, he always survived, even when people wished him to vanish or when people thought he’d die.

He later found pleasure in creating human odors, whether good or bad, because it was the only way he could make people acknowledge his existence. The only way to make people know he’s actually there, with them, as a human.

Brutally murdered 25 women to create the perfect scent to achieve what he desired, yet in the end, it wasn’t what he thought it would be.

I see him as someone who never tried to fit into society. Or more precisely, someone who realized he never really could. He created human odors in the most gruesome way to perfect his own scent. But did it work? He made people acknowledge his “power” through scent, manipulated them, and made them kneel before him. But was that what he truly wanted? All those on him in a different way?

Here, scent is portrayed as the most powerful thing a human can possess, yet for Grenouille—the power to create. All the successful manipulation he did was only because of scents.

The ending proves that despite everything he did: he was still a non-entity, a human without an odor.

In that moment, he understood that the “love” he had envisioned was something entirely different. And with that realization, he let himself be devoured and disappeared utterly from the earth. To be eaten as a whole. Until he became a part of them, the humans.

“When they finally did dare it, at first with stolen glances and then candid ones, they had to smile. They were uncommonly proud. For the first time they had done something out of Love.”

First of all, the unique premise: a boy born without body odor but with an peculiar strong sense of smell. A brilliant book, it’s almost as if you could breathe and smell through the exquisitely written olfactory experience. Set with the background of 18th-century France, when societies reeked of horrendous stench. To describe the plot, it’s painfully torturous yet pleasantly disgusting at the same time. So grotesque. The way it’s written makes you feel and wonder. It’s a truly rich sensory experience, filled with scientific scent-related vocabulary. It won’t please you the way it did to me if you’re not into slow burns and indirect descriptive proses.

(From here onward, this is my interpretation of the book. Expect glimpses of spoilers.)

I love how Süßkind portrays the hypocrisy of human and their morality, giving you a lens to see how complex people are. It exaggerates many aspects, but I suppose that’s the fun of magical realism. How easily Richis’ feelings could change because of a scent. The whole scene was spectacular, wasn’t it?

The flawed main character, Grenouille—whose name apparently means ‘frog’ in French—is born without body odor and has a quite monstrous face. And no, I never despised him, especially after the ending. I ended up feeling empathetic and pitying him.

Grenouille never really knew how to love or what love even was. Abandoned as a child, has suffered through obnoxious and painful sickness, yet he always had the will to survive. His body seemingly became immune to anything—which explains why he could live so easily in the forest—with the result of experiencing the utmost invisibility and loneliness. But, yes, he always survived, even when people wished him to vanish or when people thought he’d die.

He later found pleasure in creating human odors, whether good or bad, because it was the only way he could make people acknowledge his existence. The only way to make people know he’s actually there, with them, as a human.

Brutally murdered 25 women to create the perfect scent to achieve what he desired, yet in the end, it wasn’t what he thought it would be.

I see him as someone who never tried to fit into society. Or more precisely, someone who realized he never really could. He created human odors in the most gruesome way to perfect his own scent. But did it work? He made people acknowledge his “power” through scent, manipulated them, and made them kneel before him. But was that what he truly wanted? All those on him in a different way?

Here, scent is portrayed as the most powerful thing a human can possess, yet for Grenouille—the power to create. All the successful manipulation he did was only because of scents.

The ending proves that despite everything he did: he was still a non-entity, a human without an odor.

In that moment, he understood that the “love” he had envisioned was something entirely different. And with that realization, he let himself be devoured and disappeared utterly from the earth. To be eaten as a whole. Until he became a part of them, the humans.

“When they finally did dare it, at first with stolen glances and then candid ones, they had to smile. They were uncommonly proud. For the first time they had done something out of Love.”

Perfume is the microscope and Grenouille  the specimen, lain flat on glass for you to ogle. He's bizarre, more creature than man, gross, humorous, terrifying, pitiful, and an utter delight to examine. Read it, at the very least, to watch him try to extract the scent of glass from water.

Acadia

The Politics of Smell in Modern and Contemporary Prose

nana

Olfactory Ethics: The Politics of Smell in Modern and Contemporary Prose

was simultaneously enraptured and disgusted when reading this

felicity hu

It was a true masterpiece. Without humanity and it seemed like a fever dream, but my god what a dream

Aris 

Maria

Ive never hated the villain the way i had with this book

Wassim

Patrick Süskind's Perfume follows the life of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, abandoned at birth in the slums of eighteenth-century Paris, but blessed with an outstanding sense of smell. This gift enables Jean-Baptiste to master the art of perfume making, but one scent evades him: that of a virgin, whom he must possess to ensure her innocence and beauty are preserved. Laced with sense and suspense, this is a beguiling tale of lust, desire and deadly obsession.

Ditipriya Acharya

What a strange, strange book! I’m pretty sure if the writing and descriptions were not as beautiful as they were I would have placed it right back on my book shelf without a second thought. I don’t think I’ve ever squinted so hard at a book, trying to understand why I was enjoying it. Having said that, this is also probably the first time that a ‘horror’ book made me laugh out loud.

Tells the story it wants to tell without wasting any words. Fantastic ending, instantly wanted to reread after finishing.

Leo Valentine

Molly M

✧༺♥༻✧

maitha mana

Holy fuck? I just finished it and immediately want to re-read it. That's how brilliant the book is...

I'll try to keep it brief. The story follows Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, a bastard born in the middle of trash and fish guts. Tossed as an infant from one place to another, unloved and believed to be the devil himself for having no scent at all, and for surviving the harshest of conditions and diseases. One thing for certain is his extraordinary sense of smell. He can tell when milk has gone bad, a worm in an apple, different types of wood. The scents, thousands upon thousands of layers, engulf his very being to the point of obsession.

Grenouille proves his sense of smell and becomes a perfumer's apprentice; which comes with the advantage of providing him with the right tools and techniques of preserving and distilling scents from their sources.

Grenouille, over time, feels devoid of any human emotions and withdraws himself into his "purple palace" of a heart. He realizes that it isn't enough to obsess over existing scents, but wants to create the most intimate of all scents, the scent of a human. He starts murdering a certain criteria of women and eventually gets caught. A drop of his two-year long perfume saves him from execution. One drop was enough to make him appear god-like and results in a giant orgasm in the crowd of thousands.

My only complaint is that this book isn't long enough. It is simply impossible to put down, and I definitely see myself re-reading it less than a month from now. I'm glad the movie made it justice. Also, sorry I couldn't keep it brief. It's just too damn good to skip and it's safe to say that it has become an all-time favorite of mine. Just wow.

dragged a bit in the middle when the protagonist spent 7 YEARS alone in a pitch black cave, but part 3 and 4 were genuinely some of the best storytelling i’ve encountered (even if i did find the prospect of his perfume being so sexy that it drives ten thousand people to break out into an orgy to be a bit unserious…. looking for fragrance recs with that kind of sillage TBH) 

mallorie 🦌

jana 

Isabella 

so nauseating, and that ending??? a very strange book, but also beautiful at the same time. the start was so slow tho; took me awhile to finish it. very interesting and cleverly written. didn't enjoy it as much as i expected to

one of the books i consider a masterpiece! 

i admittedly only read this because of kurt cobain and unexpectedly, i was surprised by how much i enjoyed this book. a gripping tale about power and how a passion can eventually lead to murder, this book will surely haunt you.

andi

Aamna

The writing is exquisite. The plot though. Second half drags quite a bit & tested my patience. The language kept me going I guess. Also as someone whose olfactory functions are majorly impaired by severe allergy, the plot was a bit too much of a stretch for me, may be.

3.5. Why Goodreads doesn't allow for non-whole ratings is beyond me. There's so much that lies between a 3 & a 4.

Perfume The Story of a Murderer

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