Arthur Rimbaud

Illuminations Arthur Rimbaud, translated from the French by John Ashbery W.W. Norton: 165 pp., $24.95 This may be the most beautiful book in the world — lighted from within and somehow embodying all forms of literature at the same time. The 44 prose poems of "Illuminations" were Arthur Rimbaud's goodbye to poetry (though he had said goodbye before); they are poised on the brink of a new world. Rimbaud was on his way to Africa to live a life of commerce, to enter the world of buying and selling.

In the worlds of myth and literature, plenty of figures have had their "lost" years. There are, to name a few, Sherlock Holmes (after the plunge from Reichenbach Falls), the wizard Merlin (was he imprisoned in a cave or was he killed?), Shakespeare (what was his education and upbringing?) and Jesus (did he or didn't he go to India as a child?). What did they do during those years? How did they live? Such questions have lured many writers into producing books that try to fill in these tantalizing gaps with definitive evidence.

You should award a prize for the most subtle letter of 1985 to Dan Chouinard for his letter about the French poet, Arthur Rimbaud (Calendar Letters, Aug. 18). I wonder how many readers who don't know French pronunciation understood the play on words, which now puts Rimbaud in the Calendar Hall of Fame with King Charles of Spain and Paolo, the little wonder dog. MARTHA STRAPAC Huntington Beach

Illuminations Arthur Rimbaud, translated from the French by John Ashbery W.W. Norton: 165 pp., $24.95 This may be the most beautiful book in the world — lighted from within and somehow embodying all forms of literature at the same time. The 44 prose poems of "Illuminations" were Arthur Rimbaud's goodbye to poetry (though he had said goodbye before); they are poised on the brink of a new world. Rimbaud was on his way to Africa to live a life of commerce, to enter the world of buying and selling.

Every once in a while Hollywood tries to make a superior film to prove that it doesn't just turn out mindless twaddle. I hear that there's a movie out about Arthur Rimbaud, but that all he does is yell and fire off machine guns and exploding arrows?! I must protest this false depiction of a great poet. True, he was a gunrunner for a time, but why dwell on this small episode and ignore the more meaningful aspects of his life? It almost makes me believe that Hollywood can't even think about making films for a literate audience.

More than a century after his death, the poet Arthur Rimbaud continues to fascinate, dazzle and intimidate readers and critics alike. Rimbaud was born in 1854 in the French provincial town of Charleville, where he soon made a mark as a brilliant literature student. For about four years, starting from the age of 16, Rimbaud wrote poems so powerful that they expanded ideas of what language can do in verse.

In the worlds of myth and literature, plenty of figures have had their "lost" years. There are, to name a few, Sherlock Holmes (after the plunge from Reichenbach Falls), the wizard Merlin (was he imprisoned in a cave or was he killed?), Shakespeare (what was his education and upbringing?) and Jesus (did he or didn't he go to India as a child?). What did they do during those years? How did they live? Such questions have lured many writers into producing books that try to fill in these tantalizing gaps with definitive evidence.

RICHARD HELL sits on a shaded restaurant patio, the chaos of First Avenue muffled by a brick wall, and slurps at a midday bowl of chicken soup as he talks about the fringe benefits of tumbling into middle age. Getting there, of course, was no small victory. In the early 1970s, Hell's torn shirts and spiked hair gave American punk its look, and at age 55 the list of Hell's dead friends and former bandmates reads like a history of 1970s rock counterculture. Johnny Thunders. Dee Dee Ramone.

Mason Ruffner doesn't remember exactly who it was--maybe Carlos Santana, maybe Boz Scaggs or ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons. But he remembers his reaction the first time he looked out from the stage of the Bourbon Street bar where he used to perform and saw a rock star in the audience. "It really terrified me," said the lanky Texas-born guitarist and singer. "Boy, it really shook me up. I started missin' licks. Hate to admit it, but it got the best of me." Since then, Ruffner has learned to handle it.

Jean Carzou, 93, a French painter who illustrated the novels of Ernest Hemingway and Albert Camus. Known for their figurative style and diversity, Carzou's illustrations have appeared in books by some of France's best-known 20th century writers, including Ionesco and Arthur Rimbaud. The artist's work includes painted porcelain and engravings, as well as stage designs for the Comedie Francaise and the top ballet and opera houses of Paris.

RICHARD HELL sits on a shaded restaurant patio, the chaos of First Avenue muffled by a brick wall, and slurps at a midday bowl of chicken soup as he talks about the fringe benefits of tumbling into middle age. Getting there, of course, was no small victory. In the early 1970s, Hell's torn shirts and spiked hair gave American punk its look, and at age 55 the list of Hell's dead friends and former bandmates reads like a history of 1970s rock counterculture. Johnny Thunders. Dee Dee Ramone.

More than a century after his death, the poet Arthur Rimbaud continues to fascinate, dazzle and intimidate readers and critics alike. Rimbaud was born in 1854 in the French provincial town of Charleville, where he soon made a mark as a brilliant literature student. For about four years, starting from the age of 16, Rimbaud wrote poems so powerful that they expanded ideas of what language can do in verse.

Mason Ruffner doesn't remember exactly who it was--maybe Carlos Santana, maybe Boz Scaggs or ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons. But he remembers his reaction the first time he looked out from the stage of the Bourbon Street bar where he used to perform and saw a rock star in the audience. "It really terrified me," said the lanky Texas-born guitarist and singer. "Boy, it really shook me up. I started missin' licks. Hate to admit it, but it got the best of me." Since then, Ruffner has learned to handle it.

You should award a prize for the most subtle letter of 1985 to Dan Chouinard for his letter about the French poet, Arthur Rimbaud (Calendar Letters, Aug. 18). I wonder how many readers who don't know French pronunciation understood the play on words, which now puts Rimbaud in the Calendar Hall of Fame with King Charles of Spain and Paolo, the little wonder dog. MARTHA STRAPAC Huntington Beach

Every once in a while Hollywood tries to make a superior film to prove that it doesn't just turn out mindless twaddle. I hear that there's a movie out about Arthur Rimbaud, but that all he does is yell and fire off machine guns and exploding arrows?! I must protest this false depiction of a great poet. True, he was a gunrunner for a time, but why dwell on this small episode and ignore the more meaningful aspects of his life? It almost makes me believe that Hollywood can't even think about making films for a literate audience.

Based on poet Arthur Rimbaud, the central role in Frederick Ashton's "Illuminations" needs a recklessly passionate dancer who can also project implacably sardonic self-awareness. Not an easy character to portray: a rebellious sociopath who's his own severest judge. But Joffrey Ballet dancer Peter Narbutas danced the Poet as if born for it Sunday afternoon in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. Remarkably, he had never danced the role before, but every facet glittered dangerously and Narbutas added an intense sensuality all his own. This was a feverish, unsparingly nasty interpretation--meticulous about details of mime yet achieving a malignant grandeur through sheer emotional force.