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4.16 AVERAGE
4.16 AVERAGE
Book 2 of the Gormenghast Trilogy. A very odd series of books about the biggest castle in the world and it's crazy inhabitants.
You know how you go on a long car trip with your friend you really like, and you make each other crazy after a while? THIS BOOK.
Gormenghast, we are definitely friends, but I need to get out of this car and take a dang walk.
So, this is book #2 in the big old series I am reading, and, in my opinion there is some sequel-itis. The end of the thread often gets lost in the spool, so epic is our author's plan. The truth is that quite a lot of this book is missing some things that are simply important to the enjoyment of a novel, e.g., a main character, or a main plot. Quite a lot of it is also missing some things that contribute to the enjoyment of a sequel, like characters we've met before, or resolving loose story ends. If a book does have these qualities, a reader like me may find it not a very big deal to be generous with any not-ideal diversions and skips and negligence the remainder may have. But without them, a reader like me is more likely to ask by page 200, "Why are you doing this to me?"
Of course, the first book was hardly what you would call tightly-woven narrative. But what it did have was the feeling of everyone in their element — their odd, disquieting element. I was a little lost, in that, but I didn't mind it because I enjoyed just about every spot I was put in. And ultimately, a thing happened that had been long built up to, and another thing happened that was a total f'ing shock, and it all made me so happy that my hair stood on end. That part of reading a novel is important! It is what you should ask of an author: 1) reap the seeds you sow, 2) blow my little mind.
But, see, I have a lot of complaints about this, but it isn't fair at all because I really liked it a lot, still. These books are remarkable. The writing, though at times overwhelmingly big, is also stunningly clever and glorious. The sentences are so beautiful, they made me keen. And the scenes of action are so strangely-built and so memorable. Instead of just tearing down the things that didn't work right, I'm going to make a list of the things that knocked my socks off, because those are the things I want to remember:
Anyway, each one of these things made it worth reading, I promise it.
It was promised to me (by another reader) that this book closes all the questions of the first, but I have to disagree. The author has just moved on to something else more interesting (to him), but that is incredibly frustrating. And it's only one of a dozen things that don't seem to fit into a logical timeline — if a character thinks something fishy was going on in book one, it's rather convenient for me that they waited seven years until this sequel took place to start thinking it over. Still, it does seem that the two books fit together in a way that the third is unlikely to, which makes it an odd sort of duology-in-a-trilogy thing.
Here, the primary through-line is supposed to be Titus, who grows from child to young man and is in deep conflict with his nature over his legacy as earl. But really, there is so little of him here, and we don't connect to him when we see him. He is plunked in and pointed at like a main character should be, but it's all wrong. What story there is is really about is the final takedown but it takes a good damn two hundred pages before anything seems to happen about it.
I did not care about the professors at all.
Thematically, the most important situation Titus really has is exploring his attachment to "The Thing," as Keda's daughter is called. They are "foster" siblings, as Keda was Titus's wet-nurse, and it is foreshadowed at the end of the first book that the two children will have an important connection. "The Thing" is an outcast and wild girl, possessing skills that are beyond human, seeming to float and fly even as she lunges and steals. She frightens and fascinates Titus, and to him she represents everything he wants — but does he want to be it, or possess it? I'm not sure the entire potential of all of this was fulfilled, but it is interesting and unusual for sure.
I can't let this review go without mentioning that it reveals a little bit of a women problem in Mervyn Peake's writing, and I am rightly disappointed by it, even though I feel forgiving. Peake's grasp on his characters is weak in many places (Titus in particular, as noted), but some of the false notes for the women sting a bit more strongly. It was enough that he almost lost my trust as an author, though ultimately I decided he could keep it, because I kinda love him. Compared to a hundred other fantasy books and a hundred other books from the same decade, his books may well have a much less harmful women problem than the rest — but it is there.
Peake has two very bad authorial habits regarding women: one, Fuschia's age gets reset constantly. (Titus's age does, too — and no kidding, I've started a chart that I'm gonna put up after I finish the last book.) But is she an adult, as the stated age difference between her and Titus would require, or is she perennially nineteen? There is an incredibly big problem with Fuschia being perennially nineteen, because it plays into every bad instinct of the genre that believes a girl is no longer interesting when she is a woman. It implies that an appropriately adult Fuschia would not be sympathetic, and would not make sense to her author enough to remain a protagonist. Thus, Fuschia is somehow both frequently present and oddly of no consequence in this book, which is just horrid compared to how truly alive and important she was in the first.
The second very bad habit is that women's intelligence is inconsistently characterized. Objectively, Fuschia and her mother the Countess are both dumb and wise, at different times. It's part of their story, and I don't mind that they're called dumb — they are, to start with: they are sheltered and overly-bored aristocrats, so bored that they have invented their own worlds to live in. A lot of the point of having them there is to watch what they do when they finally wake up. Both women do have awakenings, followed by really important work to do. The insult comes when Peake forgets that he's done this for them, that they aren't supposed to be "stupid" any more. It isn't something to be forgetful about. Fuschia can't have suddenly grown up at this moment, and the Countess's brain is not suddenly active for the first time in a decade, because you told us those things before. Don't you have any way of describing a woman doing something important other than arising from a stupor? That cannot be true. (Irma, dear Irma, is an outlier of this data — she is stupid through and through, but enough of an obvious satire to avoid insulting anyone. I think.)
A potential third argument for a bad women-writing habit might be. But this has only happened twice, though it is incredibly unfair.
It is also unfair of myself to be so harsh a judge when such wonderful things happen in these books. I expect so much because there is really nothing like them, and there are so many pieces to care about so much. They convert you and change you. Reading these books feels like making a deep investment; there is too much to cope with all at once, but you will always have the dividends later, to remember in delicious slices. I will recommend them unhesitatingly, like an elderly relative who leaves out all the bad parts when she tells a story from the past. Life's full of wonderful things that you just have to put up with.
Gormenghast, we are definitely friends, but I need to get out of this car and take a dang walk.
So, this is book #2 in the big old series I am reading, and, in my opinion there is some sequel-itis. The end of the thread often gets lost in the spool, so epic is our author's plan. The truth is that quite a lot of this book is missing some things that are simply important to the enjoyment of a novel, e.g., a main character, or a main plot. Quite a lot of it is also missing some things that contribute to the enjoyment of a sequel, like characters we've met before, or resolving loose story ends. If a book does have these qualities, a reader like me may find it not a very big deal to be generous with any not-ideal diversions and skips and negligence the remainder may have. But without them, a reader like me is more likely to ask by page 200, "Why are you doing this to me?"
Of course, the first book was hardly what you would call tightly-woven narrative. But what it did have was the feeling of everyone in their element — their odd, disquieting element. I was a little lost, in that, but I didn't mind it because I enjoyed just about every spot I was put in. And ultimately, a thing happened that had been long built up to, and another thing happened that was a total f'ing shock, and it all made me so happy that my hair stood on end. That part of reading a novel is important! It is what you should ask of an author: 1) reap the seeds you sow, 2) blow my little mind.
But, see, I have a lot of complaints about this, but it isn't fair at all because I really liked it a lot, still. These books are remarkable. The writing, though at times overwhelmingly big, is also stunningly clever and glorious. The sentences are so beautiful, they made me keen. And the scenes of action are so strangely-built and so memorable. Instead of just tearing down the things that didn't work right, I'm going to make a list of the things that knocked my socks off, because those are the things I want to remember:
* Flay in the woods
* Flay in the basement caverns
* Prunesquallor's dream
* The tenth birthdaySpoiler
with the incredibly strange, giant-size panto play in the forest
* The sneaking chase through the castle at dawn (x 1000000)
* Titus in the cave with The Thing even though objectively it's super weird
*Spoiler
The unbelievable epic flood that changes everything in the castle, and brings the Countess into her own
* The final battleeven though it lasted for about 35 pages of super small text and there was no reason for one fight scene to take so painstakingly long and I just wanted it to finish, but still it was memorable, and I want to be kind.Spoiler
with Steerpike in the flooded room, floating in the little boat,
Anyway, each one of these things made it worth reading, I promise it.
It was promised to me (by another reader) that this book closes all the questions of the first, but I have to disagree.
Spoiler
The question of Sepulchrave's death is still gaping open, probably forever, despite being incredibly important to them all. The author gives Fuschia an impassioned speech about it — e.g. what happened to my father, I have to ask Flay, this is my primary motivation — and then when she journeys to the mountain to find Flay, they don't talk about it whatsoever. No one ever talks about it again.Here, the primary through-line is supposed to be Titus, who grows from child to young man and is in deep conflict with his nature over his legacy as earl. But really, there is so little of him here, and we don't connect to him when we see him. He is plunked in and pointed at like a main character should be, but it's all wrong. What story there is is really about is the final takedown
Spoiler
of Steerpike, who turns from quasi-villain to uber-villain here,I did not care about the professors at all.
Thematically, the most important situation Titus really has is exploring his attachment to "The Thing," as Keda's daughter is called. They are "foster" siblings, as Keda was Titus's wet-nurse, and it is foreshadowed at the end of the first book that the two children will have an important connection. "The Thing" is an outcast and wild girl, possessing skills that are beyond human, seeming to float and fly even as she lunges and steals. She frightens and fascinates Titus, and to him she represents everything he wants — but does he want to be it, or possess it? I'm not sure the entire potential of all of this was fulfilled, but it is interesting and unusual for sure.
I can't let this review go without mentioning that it reveals a little bit of a women problem in Mervyn Peake's writing, and I am rightly disappointed by it, even though I feel forgiving. Peake's grasp on his characters is weak in many places (Titus in particular, as noted), but some of the false notes for the women sting a bit more strongly. It was enough that he almost lost my trust as an author, though ultimately I decided he could keep it, because I kinda love him. Compared to a hundred other fantasy books and a hundred other books from the same decade, his books may well have a much less harmful women problem than the rest — but it is there.
Peake has two very bad authorial habits regarding women: one, Fuschia's age gets reset constantly. (Titus's age does, too — and no kidding, I've started a chart that I'm gonna put up after I finish the last book.) But is she an adult, as the stated age difference between her and Titus would require, or is she perennially nineteen? There is an incredibly big problem with Fuschia being perennially nineteen, because it plays into every bad instinct of the genre that believes a girl is no longer interesting when she is a woman. It implies that an appropriately adult Fuschia would not be sympathetic, and would not make sense to her author enough to remain a protagonist. Thus, Fuschia is somehow both frequently present and oddly of no consequence in this book, which is just horrid compared to how truly alive and important she was in the first.
The second very bad habit is that women's intelligence is inconsistently characterized. Objectively, Fuschia and her mother the Countess are both dumb and wise, at different times. It's part of their story, and I don't mind that they're called dumb — they are, to start with: they are sheltered and overly-bored aristocrats, so bored that they have invented their own worlds to live in. A lot of the point of having them there is to watch what they do when they finally wake up. Both women do have awakenings, followed by really important work to do. The insult comes when Peake forgets that he's done this for them, that they aren't supposed to be "stupid" any more. It isn't something to be forgetful about. Fuschia can't have suddenly grown up at this moment, and the Countess's brain is not suddenly active for the first time in a decade, because you told us those things before. Don't you have any way of describing a woman doing something important other than arising from a stupor? That cannot be true. (Irma, dear Irma, is an outlier of this data — she is stupid through and through, but enough of an obvious satire to avoid insulting anyone. I think.)
A potential third argument for a bad women-writing habit might be
Spoiler
the trap of not knowing what to do with your young female characters, and so killing them off for no particularly good reason. Both Fuschia and The Thing are killed in the incredible storm and flood that occurs, and neither death truly had to happen.It is also unfair of myself to be so harsh a judge when such wonderful things happen in these books. I expect so much because there is really nothing like them, and there are so many pieces to care about so much. They convert you and change you. Reading these books feels like making a deep investment; there is too much to cope with all at once, but you will always have the dividends later, to remember in delicious slices. I will recommend them unhesitatingly, like an elderly relative who leaves out all the bad parts when she tells a story from the past. Life's full of wonderful things that you just have to put up with.
adventurous
challenging
dark
mysterious
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
mysterious
sad
slow-paced
I really hope some of this was satire because if not... eek the politics of gender lol
Our main character, Titus, comes of age in this book and really becomes the 77th Earl of Groan in his own right - only to relinquish the role at the very end. I love the Peake's descriptions of places and people and nature, even though they do slow the pacing a bit. It's also interesting to me how he can make you feel some compassion or sense of identification with the villain, Steerpike. I don't know explicitly what themes Peake believed he was exploring, but it seems to me that the contrast between Titus and Steerpike is about the right and the wrong ways to go about challenging tradition and breaking out of the bonds life tries to impose upon you.
Peake's grasp on the English language is remarkable.
It had me at 'The sound of this overflow trilled and splashed in the silence of the evening light, and the little valley was filled with its glass-like voice.'
It lost me at '...the ease with which she had flitted from ledge to perilous ledge...had made him lust for her small breasts and her slender limbs. He yearned to crush and master them. And yet he was angry.'
All the characters (and events) are such outrageous, often obnoxious caricatures that it's hard to say the book itself is misogynistic, as opposed to some other istic-ism. Still, I was as repelled by each of the varying portrayals of romance as I was by the explicit villainy.
The other thing of note is that although many of the descriptions are exquisite, there are also many awkward sentences and some overly extended scenes. It's as if the author wrote in a great hurry, with very little revision, other than to correct evident anomalies. I think a more rigorous round of editing would have been valuable.
It lost me at '...the ease with which she had flitted from ledge to perilous ledge...had made him lust for her small breasts and her slender limbs. He yearned to crush and master them. And yet he was angry.'
All the characters (and events) are such outrageous, often obnoxious caricatures that it's hard to say the book itself is misogynistic, as opposed to some other istic-ism. Still, I was as repelled by each of the varying portrayals of romance as I was by the explicit villainy.
The other thing of note is that although many of the descriptions are exquisite, there are also many awkward sentences and some overly extended scenes. It's as if the author wrote in a great hurry, with very little revision, other than to correct evident anomalies. I think a more rigorous round of editing would have been valuable.
This ...is a very hard book to rate. Really it's almost like two entirely different books stuck together and the first half is 1 star and the second half is 5 stars so I guess I'll just settle in the middle on 3.
The first half of this book is just absolutely baffling to me. Out of the first 34 chapters I think there are only about 5 you need to actually read [one with the twins and a few with Steerpike, Fuchsia, and Titus] and the rest are devoted to an absolutely mind-numbing plot about the doctor's sister finding a husband out of all the professors. It's seriously *half* of a 500 page book. I think if it was woven throughout the text in alternating chapters in a highly condensed version it would be fine but just having the entire first half of the book going between a few of the professors and the doctor and his sister is a genuinely awful choice.
After that we get back to the varied POV style of the first book as well as all of Steerpike's scheming to various degrees of notice from the rest of the castle and I really enjoyed all of that. I don't think I will be reading book 3 as it seems to have little to do with the first two except for Titus being in it [and he's never been my favorite in any case] but I think the first book and the second half of this book are an excellent story about being too bogged down in tradition that has both excellent characters and worldbuilding. Definitely going to give the miniseries another watch now that I've finished with this as well!
The first half of this book is just absolutely baffling to me. Out of the first 34 chapters I think there are only about 5 you need to actually read [one with the twins and a few with Steerpike, Fuchsia, and Titus] and the rest are devoted to an absolutely mind-numbing plot about the doctor's sister finding a husband out of all the professors. It's seriously *half* of a 500 page book. I think if it was woven throughout the text in alternating chapters in a highly condensed version it would be fine but just having the entire first half of the book going between a few of the professors and the doctor and his sister is a genuinely awful choice.
After that we get back to the varied POV style of the first book as well as all of Steerpike's scheming to various degrees of notice from the rest of the castle and I really enjoyed all of that. I don't think I will be reading book 3 as it seems to have little to do with the first two except for Titus being in it [and he's never been my favorite in any case] but I think the first book and the second half of this book are an excellent story about being too bogged down in tradition that has both excellent characters and worldbuilding. Definitely going to give the miniseries another watch now that I've finished with this as well!