Gormenghast (1950)

I was looking for something new to read and found the 2nd volume of the Gormenghast trilogy in my bookshelf. I had to start with that, because I didn't seem to own a copy of the first or last volumes (which I've now reserved from the library).

The thing that made me impatient to start reading it, even though I was starting form the wrong book, was the extraordinarily atmospheric vocabulary. It's almost as if Peake compiled a list of words which embodied exactly the atmosphere he wanted to produce, and worked with that throughout writing the whole book so this vein of absolute consistency in style runs through the whole thing. For example, in describing the color of Steerpike's eyes, he refers to them as 'the color of dried blood'. Another author might have said 'rust colored', but that wouldn't have been in keeping with the atmosphere, which to me has that thick, almost drugged feeling that one experiences in very vivid dreams.

Another thing I loved about the writing style was the rich, lengthy descriptions. Some people might find this tedious, I'm guessing (just from reading the other reviews on here) but description - preferably focussing on minute details - is one of my favorite things in writing, both as a reader and author.

I can't wait to read the other volumes. ( )

Every time it started seeming a bit tedious, I'd run across another beautiful passage of writing or another quirky event or person and I'd start loving it all over again. ( )

Gormenghast is the middle part of a trilogy, and you should read Titus Groan first if you haven't already. It took me a long time to warm up to Titus Groan and I only got hooked about half-way through. At first I didn't like any of the characters, and Peake's style is forbidding at times. The pace is beyond leisurely--Peake takes his time. He was a visual artist and at times you can practically feel the detailed brush work in his word pictures that use a rich, sometimes abstruse vocabulary. It's the kind of narrative for which you have to have patience, but is rewarding because the imagery is so vivid.

So, having been won over to the style and gained favorites among the characters, I expected to fall right into the sequel. I didn't find that to be the case, I think because the very characters I was most attached to weren't featured much in the first 100 pages--one of them didn't appear until well after that mark. Instead a whole new cast of characters appeared. Titus was barely over a year old at the end of the first book--at the start of this book he's now seven-years-old--a schoolboy--and we get to meet his professors. It was amusingly Hogwartesque, especially as we get in one chapter a game with boys flying in the air (sans magic) with the star player sporting black hair and a birthmark on his forehead. And the outcome of that game... well, it produced a rather macabre giggle. Then there was this moment with Titus and his sister Lady Fuchsia bonding... And well, by the time we get to the scene with Titus playing marbles with the elderly headmaster and Dr Prune, I was once again enthralled. In fact, I'd say I liked this book a tad more than the first volume.

And I have to say, while I wouldn't precisely say I was fond of him, I increasingly found Steerpike one of the most fascinating villains in fantasy literature. He'd be admirable were he not so evil--brilliant, cunning, brave, athletic and ambitious--he makes Rowling's Lord Voldemort look like a crude amateur. And he and Titus were interesting foils for each other.

So, now on to Titus Alone, the last part of the trilogy. It's about half of the size of the first two books, and I have it on good authority it's even weirder! ( )

'… when, before a masterpiece, the acid throat contracts, and words are millstones…' - p.535 of the Illustrated Trilogy

‘Words are millstones’ – too true, and Peake’s Gormenghast, being a masterpiece, presents one with an equally weighty task when trying to review it. The second book in what is erroneously known as the ‘Gormenghast Trilogy’ (it is not a trilogy, and Peake preferred to call them the Titus novels), Gormenghast continues the story of Titus Groan, 77th Earl of Groan, from his seventh year up to his coming of age. It portrays Titus’ development from callow youth to rebellious adolescent, ending with what Peake describes as Titus ‘outgrowing his kingdom’. There are also various subplots that illuminate the themes of loyalty and rebellion, from the continued rise of the main antagonist, Steerpike, to a delightful (if indulgent) subplot involving the faculty of Titus’ educators, in which his headmaster, Bellgrove, finds love in the most unexpected of places.

Like Titus Groan, the first book in the cycle, Gormenghast is mainly concerned with an exploration of character: it has even been called a ‘fantasy of manners’. You will find neither magic in the novel, nor such pseudo-medieval accoutrements as knights or wizards. There is no map at the beginning of the book. You will search in vain for elves, dwarves or dragons. Peake writes more in the tradition of Dickens than Tolkien, although to say he writes in a tradition is misleading. Nothing quite resembles Gormenghast, not even the other two books in the series. Whereas Titus Groan was a much more contained novel, relating only about a year’s action, Gormenghast stretches the bounds of the Bildungsroman, while Titus Alone will go off on a whole other tangent, with its theme of the stranger in a strange land. Gormenghast is hard to describe, except as the emanation of a truly original mind.

Peake writes with the eye of an artist, which he was. But he is more than merely a good setter of scenes. He is equally adept at creating tension, eliciting emotion, and plotting his novel. The book can also be unexpectedly funny – Peake likes to tease the reader with his wordplay, but also with straight-faced asides that can be hilarious. For instance, in this passage, the young students of Gormenghast are playing an illicit game with hand-held catapults:

'There had been a time when clay – and even glass marbles were used; but after the third death and a deal of confusion in the hiding of the bodies, it was decided to be content with paper bullets.'

This is so unexpected, and delivered with such deadpan seriousness, that I could not help but roar with laughter. The image of seven-year olds nonchalantly disposing of the bodies of their classmates – with a ‘deal of confusion’, at that – tickles the sadist in me, I guess. But Peake can also be heart-achingly sombre and serious. The fate of Fuchsia, Titus’ dreamy, awkward sister, had me in tears near the end of the book. This is thanks to Peake’s amazing skill at characterisation: he draws out the peculiarities of each of his cast, forming fully-rounded personalities. My favourite character has to be Dr. Prunesquallor. Not only is he a hilariously verbose dandy, but he is also a man of discerning tastes and extreme intelligence, with a compassionate heart to boot.

The two main characters, according to my interpretation of the book, are Titus and Steerpike. They represent opposites who are, however, subtly intertwined. Titus, the privileged golden boy, seems a far cry from Steerpike, the former kitchen boy who, through deceit and skulduggery, scaled his way to a position of rank in the Gormenghast hierarchy. They are both, however, rebels at heart, willing to subvert the ancient laws of Gormenghast to reach their goals. Yet there are differences between them even on this front, differences of method and scale. Whereas Steerpike is willing to do anything to gain stature, with rebellion serving only as a means to an end, Titus only wishes to escape the deadening influence of Gormenghast and its superfluous rituals. Steerpike is brilliant, but, to take an image from Terry Pratchett, he is brilliant like the shards of a smashed mirror, all twinkling with bright points of light, but irrevocably broken. Titus is humane and caring, if somewhat confused and powerless throughout much of the novel. By the end of the story, he will have gained his independence from Gormenghast, but not without paying the cost of innocence lost.

As I said at the beginning of the review, Gormenghast is a masterpiece. It has minor flaws – Peake can stray into some seemingly pointless plotlines, and he is not immune to the odd bit of purple prose – but these flaws are really part of the charm of the work. They highlight the risk of absurdity and irrelevance that Peake walked in writing such an original work. The fact that he manages to pull off this tightrope act with the barest hints of overbalancing only emphasises what a brilliant fantasist he was. ( )

my favourite volume of the trilogy, so eventful, suspenseful, and where the admirable Gertrude (I think she's my fave character) is transfigured into a monument of determination. ( )