304 pages
Published Dec. 8, 2013 by Valdemar.
From the book:UPON my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself, others not so much so. One consideration which deterred me was, that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected …
From the book:UPON my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself, others not so much so. One consideration which deterred me was, that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess, barring only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence in exciting the imaginative faculties. Another reason was, that the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively marvellous, that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be (except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a half–breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family, and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put faith in my veracity– the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer was, never- theless, one of the principal causes which prevented me from complying with the suggestion of my advisers.
Unfortunately antiquated (read: racist) portrayal of other, albeit, imaginary peoples
More deeply enjoyed with the footnotes of this edition, belying the autobiographical elements of the story
More like The Narrative of Arthur Boredom Pym. I did learn a lot about curing sea cucumbers, so I guess I have that going for me now.
[The version I read is in fact part of The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe (Random House 1938), a book I've been reading from since childhood.]
Let's just say if this was my first taste of Poe there never would have been a second. I chose it because of references in notes to the HPL book I just read, and they're part of the same cultural eddy, sure. A noxious backwater it is, though, to continue the metaphor.
That the seagoing part goes on and on I can forgive. Some stories wax long on description. The racist stuff though is outdated and disappointing... All that "savages" stuff, ugh. It started out in such a promising manner: dated but entertaining.
If you like Poe generally, and don't need to read this for research or studies, I'd definitely give it a pass. It did not age well!
I came across a mention of this in an article and thought "Poe wrote a novel?" This is his only novel and from his own admission he wrote it to cash in on a craze for sea stories.
It is really terrible, but so terrible that it often crosses over into amusing, which is why I gave it two stars instead of three. But I can't really recommend it. I facepalmed and said "what...." a lot while I was reading it, and there is a lot of very deeply awful racism in the last half. Stick to the creepy short stories.
Is this the wellspring of American horror fiction? Poe's novel lays down the tropes -- the individual in extremis, a spirit of scientific speculation in tension with racial panic -- that Lovecraft would develop later (the business with the sea cucumbers must have given HPL a horripilating charge). Curious to know what Melville thought of this. A deeply racist book, perhaps best read in cold blood, in spite of which arises a warm admiration for Poe's inventiveness.
Doesn't make you want to go to sea.
This story is mostly entertaining and the time period and writing style make it a fascinating read. There are some parts that (I hate to say) get a bit tedious. Also, I did not get the sense of an ending. It seems to me that Pym died in the end, and that this narrative was found tucked away somewhere on his person. That might not sound very likely, but I can't think of anything much more plausible. Hmm.
I'm intrigued that there was a dog named Tiger, and a character (man) named Richard Parker, also.
