Secrets of the Flesh

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by Judith Thurman

A scandalously talented stage performer, a practiced seductress of both men and women, and the flamboyant author of some of the greatest works of twentieth-century literature, Colette was our first true superstar. Now, in Judith Thurman's Secrets of the Flesh, Colette at last has a biography worthy of her dazzling reputation.

Having spent her childhood in the shadow of an overpowering mother, Colette escaped at age twenty into a turbulent marriage with the sexy, unscrupulous Willy--a literary charlatan who took credit for her bestselling Claudine novels. Weary of Willy's sexual domination, Colette pursued an extremely public lesbian love affair with a niece of Napoleon's. At forty, she gave birth to a daughter who bored her, at forty-seven she seduced her teenage stepson, and in her seventies she flirted with the Nazi occupiers of Paris, even though her beloved third husband, a Jew, had been arrested by the Gestapo. And all the while, this incomparable woman poured forth a torrent of masterpieces, including Gigi, Sido, Cheri, and Break of Day.

Judith Thurman, author of the National Book Award-winning biography of Isak Dinesen, portrays Colette as a thoroughly modern woman: frank in her desires, fierce in her passions, forever reinventing herself. Rich with delicious gossip, and intimate revelations, shimmering with grace and intelligence, Secrets of the Flesh is one of the great biographies of our time.

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Our favourite quote from Secrets of the Flesh

He has shown himself to be someone who is worthy of my gratitude. For you understand, my child”—Colette was again writing to Germaine Patat—“everything I’m not speaking of in this letter.… Distance and reflexion have been working on me, and I am obliged to observe that I’ve been brought to this place by a well-prepared train of events, which horrifies me. I also know that the house I shall return to will be empty.

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He has shown himself to be someone who is worthy of my gratitude. For you understand, my child”—Colette was again writing to Germaine Patat—“everything I’m not speaking of in this letter.… Distance and reflexion have been working on me, and I am obliged to observe that I’ve been brought to this place by a well-prepared train of events, which horrifies me. I also know that the house I shall return to will be empty.

— Judith Thurman, Secrets of the Flesh