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Brendan Boyle's avatar

This impression may change after reading the next book, but my feeling about Titus Groan is that it’s a novel about how change is felt within a structure that throttles it by design. Roles are abandoned and taken up, violent deaths go unseen, and Rottcodd, a minor functionary, feels a tremor only at the very end. This may lead to great upheaval for the world of Gormenghast or it might not. I like that Steerpike’s scheming, while causing much of this change either directly or indirectly, still only places him within a functionary role that maintains the status quo — the sisters might not ever have plotted against their brother without his influence, but by the end he has tasked himself with keeping the peace. This is not all due to the nature of the power structure, some of it is blind chance, but the old ways persist for the time being.

I loved the scene of the Earling, the image of baby Titus alone in the middle of the lake, the symbolic gesture of casting off the totems of his station, the castle denizens watching from the trees, the carvers thronged and watchful on the other side, and the mysterious harmony of two children crying out as if sharing a private understanding with each other. It’s an exquisite ending for a book that has a capricious relationship with its own plot, and reminded me again of Deadwood, in particular its high water mark “Boy The Earth Talks To”.

The bit from Backlisted I wanted to highlight is by Andy at about 53:00 — “I think the success of these novels after the second World War is totally fascinating: first, because of how many of these characters have physical disabilities, have sustained physical damage. That’s no coincidence, the betrayal of the body is a big thing for Peake, indeed, in a self-fulfilling prophecy before his own body betrayed him. But also, you mentioned Steerpike, Joanna. Steerpike seems to me like the precursor of that postwar figure represented by Joe Lampton in Room at the Top, or Camus’s The Outsider or Mr. Sloane in Entertaining Mr. Sloane. He prefigures that, to quote Morrissey, ‘jumped-up pantry boy who never knew his place’.”

I’m making some headway on Tony Judt’s Postwar this week as well, and one of the delights of that book is how Judt proves to be a great film buff, adept at using movies to track shifts in ideas of nationhood and popular sentiment. As I mentioned last week, I do think of Steerpike as a kind of revolutionary figure, if not a particularly effective one, and perhaps as in Andy’s reading a uniquely 20th century postwar type, the figure who knows he is alienated but doesn’t quite have a program to match his sense of entitlement and cunning. Perhaps the way we leave Steerpike suggests that there are always such figures within these civilizations; sometimes they make a dent in the world, and sometimes they just find a more comfortable perch.

Thanks so much for doing this, Fran, and credit to Phil as well for nudging this along behind the scenes. It’s been wonderful to read everyone’s comments. I will say I think end of July as a deadline for book 2 sounds good, maybe we can do another gut check around then to see how we’re feeling for book 3 (although it is rather shorter than the others).

postscript: one last JBOL for the road ...

"The Reverie of Lady Clarice: Her thoughts have been identical with those of her sister in every way save only in one respect, and this cleavage can best be appreciated by the simple process of substituting Cora's name for her own wherever it appears in the reverie of the former."

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Emma Stefansky's avatar

I loved a lot of this final section, and I specifically loved the scene between Flay and Keda, to my knowledge their only "interaction," such as it was, in the whole book. Flay himself seems to be in a more elevated mental state than usual, having murdered his nemesis but then also having borne witness to the destruction-via-owls of the one person who had, at least as far as we know, given his life meaning. The fact that he, probably the most indoctrinated into the ways of the Groans and Gormenghast's workings (except maybe for Sourdust, though his purview was more over the ritual of it all) is the one to see the final moments of Keda (an outsider who chose not to stay with the family, where Flay was involuntarily cast out) read to me as a sort of message to Flay that there's more going on, dammit, than these weirdos in this castle. Peake goes sicko mode with the language here: "Through her, in microcosm, the wide earth sobbed." Whew!!

Whether or not Flay "got it" remains to be seen, or maybe will never be seen, but it made me think of times in my life when I'd realized that things that seemed so huge to me because of my career and the life I lead really don't matter that much to most other people. Kind of how Rottcodd in the final chapter finally feels a little bit of doubt about this lonely job he has living in a hall full of silent artwork, though it wouldn't have been in keeping with the rest of the book for him to have finally opened the door and gone to see what was up, allegory of the cave style. I love that none of these characters ever experience any sort of "development," another way in which this eschews any of the contemporary rules of storytelling. You can make a great book out of characters doing exactly what their personalities preordain them to do.

I will be installing a Hall of Spiders in my future home.

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