Poe: A Life Cut Short

by Peter Ackroyd

-Ackroyd’s Brief Lives, Book 4-

(New York: Nan A. Talese, 2008)

Hardcover, 205 Pages, Biography

ISBN: 9780385508001, US$21.95

ABCD Rating: BACKLIST

From the Cover: Gothic, mysterious, theatrical, fatally flawed, and dazzling, the life of Edgar Allan Poe, one of America’s greatest and most versatile writers, is the ideal subject for Peter Ackroyd. Poe wrote lyrical poetry and macabre psychological melodramas; invented the first fictional detective; and produced pioneering works of science fiction and fantasy. His innovative style, images, and themes had a tremendous impact on European romanticism, symbolism, and surrealism, and continue to influence writers today. In this essential addition to his canon of acclaimed biographies, Peter Ackroyd explores Poe’s literary accomplishments and legacy against the background of his erratic, dramatic, and sometimes sordid life. Ackroyd chronicles Poe’s difficult childhood, his bumpy academic and military careers, and his complex relationships with women, including his marriage to his thirteen-year-old cousin. He describes Poe’s much-written-about problems with gambling and alcohol with sympathy and insight, showing their connections to Poe’s childhood and the trials, as well as the triumphs, of his adult life. Ackroyd’s thoughtful, perceptive examinations of some of Poe’s most famous works shed new light on these classics and on the troubled and brilliant genius who created them.

My Review: Edgar Allan Poe is one of those literary figures that everyone knows, and yet no one really knows about. I include myself in that description, because for the last three years I have helped teach seventh graders about Poe (they read “The Tell-Tale Heart” and “The Purloined Letter”) and when I put together biographical information on Poe, so much of it was speculation and conjecture, that I only give the students a cursory overview of Poe’s life. (They are always kind of weirded out by the fact that Poe married his thirteen-year-old cousin.)

So, on a recent visit to the library, when I saw this book on the New Book display, I decided that it was time I learned a little bit more about Edgar Allan Poe than the internet and Google could provide me, and Ackroyd seemed like a competent researcher and biographer, so I figured, why not?

Setting aside Poe’s considerable canon of excellent stories, the man’s life makes for very interesting reading. This is a person who, really, never got a single break in his life, or when he did, it was followed closely by tragedy. Poe’s life was—basically speaking—a string of tragedies. And yet, in and amongst all that tragedy, Poe managed to forge ahead and write some of the most compelling, enduring and, often, disturbing short stories in American letters. Of course, his biggest success in his lifetime was his magnum opus poem, “The Raven,” which garnered him, quite literally, overnight success. And yet, Poe was never able to overcome the crushing poverty and the pugnacious personality into which Poe was born.

What was most compelling, however, was Ackroyd’s ability to convey the utter impossibility knowing the complete details of Poe’s life, and yet being able to create a coherent narrative of such a life is a quite a talent. If you have ever wondered what kind of a mind and life gave rise to such wonderful and terrifying stories as “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Black Cat,” and “The Masque of the Red Death,” to name just a few, then pick up Ackroyd’s Poe: A Life Cut Short. You won’t be disappointed.

Pride and Prejudice

by Jane Austen

(New York: Signet Classics, 2008)

Paperback, 401 Pages, Fiction

ISBN: 9780451530783, US$4.95

ABCD Rating: CHECK OUT

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”

From the Cover: Spirited Elizabeth Bennet is one of a family of five daughters; with no male heir, the Bennet estate must someday pass to their priggish cousin William Collins. Therefore the girls must marry well—and the arrogant bachelor Mr. Darcy is Elizabeth’s elusive match. An entertaining portrait of matrimonial rites and rivalries, Pride and Prejudice is Jane Austen’s masterwork, timeless in its hilarity and its honesty. “A lady’s imagination,” notes Darcy, “is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.” With its intrigue, romance, and wit, Pride and Prejudice will immediately show readers why Austen herself called the book “my own darling child.”

My Review: Reading this book has been long overdue. It is funny, at least to me, that it took the introduction of zombies, kung-fu, and ninjas to Meryton to get me to finally read Pride and Prejudice. One would have thought that, as an English major and now heading into a Master’s program, I would have read Austen’s book at least once and yet, like Animal Farm, I have somehow managed to go my entire college career without once reading it, and after reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, it was time to rectify that oversight.

In spite of all the misgivings I may have had going in (you may remember my reviews of Jane Eyre (which I know is not an Austen novel, but it is in the same family of novels) and Persuasion), and while I won’t go so far as to say that this is my absolute favoritest novel—I will say that I did enjoy my time at Meryton with the Bennets (in spite of the obvious lack of the undead).

Now, I don’t think I’ll be rethinking my position re: Jane Austen anytime soon. I quote from my review of Persuasion:

During our discussion of Persuasion my professor read a quote from an eminent Austen scholar (I can’t remember the name for the life of me and am too lazy to look it up right now) which went something to the effect of: “Jane Austen was the conscience of her time.”

I take umbrage with that idea for one chief reason: I feel that a so-called “conscience of [a] time” needs to say something of meaning and/or import about the society in which they live. Upton Sinclair would be a “conscience of [his] time.” H.G. Wells would be a “conscience of [his] time.” Theodore Dreiser would most definitely be a “conscience of [his] time” as would Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Mark Twain, Edith Wharton, and a dozen others. Jane Austen is most definitely not a “conscience of her time.” Why? Because, to put it in so many words, Austen does not challenge the status quo of her time in this novel, or for that matter any of her other novels.

The characters in Persuasion are all from the upper class and all have upper class concerns: i.e. rank, title, money, land, and “proper” marriage. I can think of only one character from the lower or working class in Persuasion and although she is at least favorably portrayed, her part is brief and an expository one at best. No where in the novel does Austen play the trickster and challenge the notion that the ruling class does not have any obligation to the lower classes, nor does she show the daily trials and travails of the lower and working classes. There is no indictment of the norms of society or call to moral obligation. The characters in Persuasion (as well, one could argue, Jane Austen) continue blissfully along in their little bubble of privilege without worrying how the “other half lives.”

This is not the literary action of a “conscience of [a] time.”

The same could be said of Pride and Prejudice. There is no indication to me that Austen is, in fact, “the conscience of her time.” It seems that all the Bennets are concerned with is wealth, status and class. There are no chambermaids or butlers or anyone from the lower class in P&P with significant speaking roles and even if, as some critics allege, the Bennets (as well as others in the novel like Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins, Mr. Wickham, and the Lady Catherine) are so concerned with wealth and status and class so as to be farcical, it still, to me, does not indicate that Austen in anyway condemns this behavior or mindset. In fact by ending the novel as she does, Austen reinforces the class system in effect in England at the time and does not in any way act as the conscience of her time.

All that aside, though, I did in fact enjoy reading Pride and Prejudice. Austen’s prose is beautiful, and the wit evident in Pride and Prejudice is nothing short of brilliant. P&P is funny and full of pathos and is a well-written story, and—as I said earlier—in spite of an obvious lack of the undead, I did enjoy it, and I would probably recommend it to others (in fact I have recommended it to others) but I wouldn’t go so far as to canonize Austen and joint he ranks of Janeites that worship at Austen’s feet and sing her lauds, but I will say that Pride and Prejudice was not as bad as I thought it was going to be, and that it was actually quite enjoyable. There is just one caveat, and that is the fact that I am not convinced (and P&P does nothing to change the fact) that Jane Austen is alleged to be “the conscience of her time.”

Horror Story Printed on Toilet Paper in Japan

Oh you crazy Japanese!

Thanks to Steve of Reading by Pub Light for bringing this to my attention. I am a big fan of Kôji Suzuki and his novels Ring, Spiral, and Loop as well as his collection Dark Water. I would love to get my hands on a copy of Drop (though I’d probably have to wait for it to be translated from Japanese to English—oh well).

From comcast.net NEWS

TOKYO — In a country where ghosts are traditionally believed to hide in the loo, a Japanese company is advertising a new literary experience—a horror story printed on toilet paper.

Each roll carries several copies of a new nine-chapter novella written by Kôji Suzuki, the Japanese author of the horror story Ring, which has been made into movies in both Japan and Hollywood.

Drop, set in a public restroom, takes up about three feet (90 centimeters) of a roll and can be read in just a few minutes, according to the manufacturer, Hayashi Paper.

The company promotes the toilet paper, which will sell for 210 yen ($2.20) a roll, as “a horror experience in the toilet.”

Toilets in Japan were traditionally tucked away in a dark corner of the house due to religious beliefs. Parents would tease children that a hairy hand might pull them down into the dark pool below.

Me again: just how awful is that last sentence in the last paragraph! How horrible! I mean, really!

Un Chorro de Literatura

I have two reviews coming (Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and Poe: A Life Cut Short by Peter Ackroyd), but until then, here is a little book related fun to tide you over.

I am in love with this sculpture, recently on display in Córdoba, Spain, by artist Alicia Martín. It is titled Biografías and is made up of 5,000 books—all of them biographies!

Pearls Before Swine, by Stephen Pastis, May 8, 2009

The Silence of the Lambs (Audio): Redux

by Thomas Harris

read by Frank Muller

-Hannibal Lecter Series, Book Three-

(Prince Frederick: Recorded Books, LLC, 1993)

MP3 Audiobook, 590.1 MB, 10¾ Hours, Fiction

ISBN: 9781419320941, US$44.95

ABCD Rating: ACQUIRE

From the Cover: Dr. Hannibal Lecter sits in his coolly-lit cell delicately turning the pages of the Italian edition of Vogue, his fingers as supple and expressive as an artist’s. Behind him the walls are covered with charcoal drawings of Florence’s Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo. Urbane and aesthetic, Lecter enjoys a fine Amaroe, is known for the excellence of his table, and is often held entranced by the meandering of Bach’s Goldberg Variations. He is also the murderer of nine, all of whom he brutally savaged. Lecter’s last victim prior to his incarceration was found in a pew in a small rural church sans his thymus and pancreas—the sweetmeats of the human body. It is to this more monster than man that Clarice Starling, a brilliant but unseasoned FBI trainee, must appeal for help. “Buffalo Bill,” a psychotic serial killer is on the loose. His tableaux of killings—all adolescent girls—has gripped the east coast. Now, a senator’s daughter has disappeared and is believed to be his next intended victim. Somewhere behind inscrutable eyes, one killer holds the key to finding another, but he is giving nothing away. Driven, vulnerable, and running out of time, Starling finds her soul has become the bargaining chip is a desperate and unholy alliance between herself and an evil genius.

My Original Review: 03/04/2006 – 12:30:00 AM

My Redux Review: So, after slogging my way through roughly 65 hours of some of the worst audiobooks I have ever listened to over 134 days, I needed a break. I needed something to cleanse my palate. I needed Frank Muller. I had quite a few to choose from too, since I have a number of audiobooks read by Mr. Muller, and after deliberating and trying to decide between three in particular, I went with The Silence of the Lambs because it had been a while since I had “read” any Thomas Harris, and a visit with Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling is always so pleasant.

I don’t know if I have mentioned it on the pages of this blog before (I know I have here) but I have a strange scholarly fascination with cannibalism. (One of these days I’ll have to read for review on this blog Shiguro Takada’s book Contingency Cannibalism: Superhardcore Survivalism’s Dirty Little Secret (it’s on my shelf).) But anyway, Lecter as a character intrigues me because of what he represents: the “dirty little secret” (as Takada puts it) or the character who breaks the last real taboo in Western society. And that’s what cannibalism is and represents in my mind: the last unbroken taboo. Over the years there have been many taboos in Western society, but they have been systematically broken down and made—if not “mainstream,” then at the very least de-stigmatized. All except for cannibalism (and, now that I think of it, possibly bestiality, though let’s put that off for another day).

What I find most interesting about Harris’ approach is that Lecter represents this taboo in such a straightforward and, dare I say, pleasing manner that one begins to wonder what the big fuss is all about. Of course, the fuss is there for a reason: androphagy is not something to be taken lightly, or even taken at all, but Lecter is so damn rational that the Reader begins to wonder what it would take to push them over that last hurdle into forbidden territory. If someone so cultured and refined and intelligent as Lecter finds eating human flesh agreeable, why don’t we all do that. Harris thrusts the Reader into the position of being what I like to call “uncomfortably defamiliar.” We are defamiliar with the idea of cannibalism and even reject the thought of doing so ourselves, and yet it is an uncomfortable situation in which to be, because there is always the question at the back of the head of Well, what if … And it is in the what ifs that the character of Hannibal Lecter finds his compelling power over the Reader.

And yet, even that is something that is striking, because Lecter is not the antagonist of The Silence of the Lambs. He is not even the protagonist (as he is in Hannibal and Hannibal Rising). He is at most a secondary character, incidental to the plot and even fills a clichéd and stereotypical role: that of the expository prophet. Everything Lecter says in his interviews is of an expository nature and compels the listener (either Clarice Starling or Senator Martin) to action. He is the oracle that is consulted in classical literature. In fact, he is hardly in the book, I don’t have an exact page count, but in the film adaptation of the novel Hannibal Lecter is on screen for a total of 16 minutes, which one might extrapolate to say he’s on the page for maybe 80 pages, 100 at the outmost. In book 386 pages long, that’s only about 20% of page time devoted to Lecter. There is far more development and dialogue and action given to Starling, Jack Crawford and Jame Gumb, and yet it is Lecter’s presence that is felt most strongly in the novel. He is truly a masterfully drawn character, jumping off the page fully formed and menacing from his introduction.

Yet, Lecter (and the cannibalistic taboo he represents) is not all that this novel has to offer. The Silence of the Lambs is, perhaps, one of the tightest and best-written thriller/serial killer novels I have ever read. Harris starts the novel off at full tilt and doesn’t let up until the last page. The pacing of the novel is something to be admired and studied. There was not a single point in reading (or, in this case, listening to) Lambs that I found myself wanting to skip ahead to “the good parts.” In this book, it’s all “good parts.” Yes, some of it is distasteful, some of it may even be considered offensive, and yet it is like a car crash or train wreck: the Reader is compelled to looking, to continue reading, to see it all the way to the end. To witness. That is the mark of an amazing novel. One that has the power to turn the mirror back onto the Reader and the Reader’s society and say Look! Look! Look at what is wrong out there! Look at what is going on! Look at what I have to do to shock you! Look at yourself and look at your society and see if there doesn’t need to be some changes if this is what it takes to make you turn away in disgust!

The audio edition only serves to heighten that sense of urgency, of something gone terribly wrong in the world, and that is accomplished through the talents of Frank Muller. No audiobook reader I have yet encounter (with the possible exception of Jim Dale of the Harry Potter series) can do what Frank Muller does to an audiobook. He brings them to life in such a way as to almost be unbelievable. Whether it is Harris’ The Silence of the Lambs, the numerous Stephen King audiobooks Muller has narrated, or any number of others (including the works of John Grisham, and many classics such as Moby-Dick, The Call of the Wild and A Christmas Carol) Muller manages to make each one a unique and individual listening experience. You believe he is a sociopathic cannibalistic psychiatrist; you believe Muller is a young, Southern female FBI cadet trying to make her way in the traditionally and completely man’s world of law enforcement; you believe he is a psychotic creature with a need to remake himself into a woman. In spite of the specters of Jodie Foster’s and Anthony Hopkins’ Oscar-winning performances in the 1991 Jonathan Demme film adaptation (as well as the performances of Scott Glenn and Ted Levine), Muller makes Harris’ text into something else than the film. Listening, I never once thought of Hopkins or Foster or Glenn or Levine. Muller managed to immerse me wholly into a world of his and Harris’ making, and that friends and neighbors is the mark of a good novel, a good audiobook, and one of the best narrators in the business.

So, if you have yet to experience Thomas Harris’ The Silence of the Lambs or have only experienced it through the magic of the silver screen, might I suggest you pick up Frank Muller’s reading of the novel, you’ll be in for quite a treat.