Mervyn May, Volume 3

Equality is the thing

Good news, everyone: it’s still Mervyn May! We are now in the sunset hours of Titus Groan, with what’s feeling like an increasingly doomed ending in sight. Let’s check in with our great perpetrator, Steerpike, who has some harsh words for me typing “byronic definition” at one in the morning last night:

“Glorious,” Steerpike said, “is a dictionary word. We are all imprisoned by the dictionary. We choose out of that vast, paper-walled prison our convicts, the little black printed words, when in truth we need fresh sound to utter, new enfranchised noises which would produce a new effect. In dead and shackled language, my dears, you are glorious, but oh, to give vent to a brand new sound that might convince you of what I really think of you, as you sit there in your purple splendour, side by side! But no, it is impossible. Life is too fleet for onomatopoeia. Dead words defy me. I can make no sound, dear ladies, that is apt.”

One of the things that came up in last week’s discussion was that modern day sci-fi/fantasy (and I think a lot of genre art in general) is a need to over-explain everything. We have to have TK CHARACTER: ORIGIN STORY in big bold letters or no one will understand why someone does something. Why is Steerpike doing all this shit in Titus Groan? Dude, I don’t know — or I have a sense, maybe, but that answer is not as interesting as watching him do it. That we meet Steerpike as a lowly kitchen grunt allows for his character to deepen and develop with our knowing how or why — for instance, what was his life like that he knows enough about the dictionary to loathe it but was otherwise a second-class citizen in Gormenghast? It doesn’t matter, but it’s fun to see him get increasingly verbal by osmosis. Spend enough time with Prunesquallor, for instance, and suddenly he’s doing a monologue about the dictionary here or repeating phrase about equality there. Despite his lowly beginnings, we know that he has reverence for books and knowledge, rather than reliance, like Sepulchrave. As Steerpike hatches his miserable plan of setting the library on fire (painful!), he skims a few books off the top. He knows what he wants, and he will get it.

Something else that appeals about this passage is that beyond his newfound dedication to supposed equality, it’s this bit that shows how Gormenghast is starting to break down. In the way that we hear the same descriptions of characters again and again — who is wearing purple, Steerpike’s giant forehead, etc. — the place where it actually feels like a different book with a different set of language entirely is with Keda, outside of all the drama. Steerpike gets close to a new sound, so to speak, every now and then, but mostly he is good at absorbing and regurgitating that which he’s heard to weaponize against those around him.

(Keda’s journey exists beyond ritual and language; what is happening to her is purely elemental. She wanders through the woods and swamps after the deaths of her lovers, and she falls — ill — into the hands of her benevolent power. She bears a profound amount of suffering and grief, but the clarity it grants her feels almost religious. She is operating on what feels like an entirely separate plane of reality.)

Big stuff happening in this section of Titus Groan, the most notable of which being Steerpike’s plan to have Cora and Clarice set Sepulchrave’s library on fire. How do you upset the balance of a rigid system? Destroy the most precious thing of the most powerful person, which is not his wife or children, but his books. Listen, I kind of get it. Not unlike Steerpike’s journey up and around the roof, the plot and eventual burning of the library occurs over several chapters as the tone of the panic of the useless Gormenghast ghoulerati shifting from funny uselessness into actual horror. Steerpike frames himself as the hero, managing to save every character but Sourdust.

RIP SOURDUST

Luckily, Sourdust has a son who is 70something years old named Barquentine. Honey, if this isn’t the 11th hour best name in the book, I don’t know what is…

Steerpike convinces Cora and Clarice to burn the library in order to make a significant power play, but of course, once the fire is burned out, he’s managed to hop ahead a few ranks in the ladder, otherwise placating the sisters with promises of golden thrones that take a long time to build. Don’t worry, though — he’s made drawings. I couldn’t help but think of this clip about notable drawings for yet-to-be-built devices.

Two small things:

• I love the structure of the chapter titled “Meanwhile” which functions lik a GRWM for Titus Groan’s birthday bash.

• I love that at the Gathering, Flay “had managed to find five chairs.” Five??? IJBOL.

This section also saw a significant return of Fuchsia, who more or less decides to cast her lots in with Steerpike. “I like you being disrespectful, sometimes,” she tells him (#ZweigMoment). Though she might feel comforted by Steerpike’s attempts to upset the balance by being rude to adults, she suffers at the hands of her father, who in madness turns to her in devoted love and then shifts into something much more frightening. “I live in the Tower of Flints,” he cried. “I am the death-owl.”

This certainly does not bode well for our final passage. Next time, please plan to finish Titus Groan — ah! Hard to believe it’s all ending already. I think next week, because of the holiday weekend, we’ll do Mervyn May on Tuesday, not Monday, so everyone can have an extra day of reading.