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Gormenghast #3
Titus Alone
Paperback. Fair. Remainder. There are two 1cm tears in edge of front cover. There is wear to edges and one corner is slightly scuffed. Damp stained along bottom and especially at the bottom right corner.
252 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
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May 31, 2024
Illness prevented Mervyn Peake from developing the last part of his trilogy to the full scale but anyway the idea of the novel is clear.
Titus Alone is morbidly surreal and it is most hopeless – there is no light in the end of a tunnel. And Titus Alone is the most psychedelic tale.
At last Titus is at large and free to choose whatever he wishes but instead of happiness he feels like an uprooted tree. And wherever he goes he can’t find any gratification. To be a roofless and rootless rover and to move from pillar to post is now his destiny…
To him who is lost in emptiness there is no hope.
Titus Alone is morbidly surreal and it is most hopeless – there is no light in the end of a tunnel. And Titus Alone is the most psychedelic tale.
At last Titus is at large and free to choose whatever he wishes but instead of happiness he feels like an uprooted tree. And wherever he goes he can’t find any gratification. To be a roofless and rootless rover and to move from pillar to post is now his destiny…
The empty darkness of the wall which faced him gave him no answer. He touched it with his hand.
Who was he? There was no knowing. He shut his eyes again. In a few moments there was no noise at all, and then the scuffling sound of a bird in the ivy outside the tall window recalled the world that was outside himself – something apart from this frightful zoneless nullity.
To him who is lost in emptiness there is no hope.
September 28, 2022
-I'm going to just come right out and say it:
Mervyn Peake is the greatest writer of the English language the world has ever known. There. I said it, and I can't take it back. It's out there now, floating on the interwebs, for the world to disagree with. But at this point, I don't care if the world disagrees with me; I'm tuning the naysayers out with my rightness. Obviously I haven't read every writer of the English language, so there is the possibility that I'm wrong; but, even if I am wrong, I will still claim I'm right, as my mind simply cannot comprehend otherwise.
My reviews of the first two books were relatively short and sweet, yet I feel this book requires some additional discussion to flesh out properly, as it is admittedly a rather problematic book to review. Fans of Mervyn Peake's work will staunchly support the quality, and merits, of the the first two books, Titus Groan and Gormenghast, yet Titus Alone has generated more mixed reactions, even among Peake fans. Some claim it is disjointed, and the unfortunate product of a mind wracked by a horrid disease. Some will even go so far as to deem it unreadable, and will recommend simply sticking with the the first two books.
I realize I am in the minority opinion when I say this, but I wholeheartedly disagree with the negative assessment of Titus Alone. I don't see it as the product of a warped and crippled mind, I see it as the product of a terrifyingly focused mind. I dismiss the claims of it being "unreadable" as it is actually quite the page-turner. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that this book is the most enjoyable of them. Now, I don't mean to say that I think it is better written; Gormenghast is my single favorite, and is the *cough* Peak of the series. Yet, within the context of the two previous novels, Titus Alone is, for me, somehow more grand. By themselves, Titus Groan and Gormenghast can stand alone as crowning masterpieces, whereas the glory of Titus Alone almost depends upon the previous two. Without them, the critics would be right, and it would be a stumbling, disjointed collection of ravings from a mind in its death throes; with them acting as support beams, however, this third book becomes a wonder.
Titus Alone is undoubtedly a deviation. It is strange, weird, and crazy; but that, to me, is the point. It doesn't read like the first two books because it isn't meant to; instead, it is meant to pull the rug out from under our feet, and it succeeds in doing so admirably. As the title of the book says, our only physical link to the first two books is Titus. He is alone, and so too are we. Succumbing to his youthful longings, he leaves his life of comfort, tradition, and certainty in an attempt to become his own man, and to find his own way in the world. Yet, the world he finds is one he is wholly unprepared for, and neither are we. He is meant to be a castaway in this book, to be confused, scared, and restless; we too share these burdens, and Peake forces the reader along on this wild ride.
Many might notice that the frequency, length, and presence of Peake's signature descriptive passages are less pronounced in this book. It moves faster, and gives us less insight into the strange new world into which we are thrust. It seemed to me that this might also be the point. Even during scenes of heavy 'action' in the first two novels, Peake takes the time to paint to the reader the small details surrounding it; the reader is allowed to become familiar with the unique characters, the ever-important surroundings, and get the feel for every pore, crack, and stone of the setting. With Titus Alone, we lose our insight. Entire landscapes zip past us through glimpses in windows, people are different, and our introductions are quick and problematic. The world is as strange to us, as it is to Titus.
The setting and narration of the first two books is inextricably bound to, and by, the crumbling, timeless walls of Gormenghast castle. Gormenghast might as well be in a snow-globe, as time seems to stand still. Peake describes Gormenghast castle as being "ponderous," and so too is the space and time which it inhabits. The rest of the world may be moving right along for all we know, yet Gormenghast "is all" and is somehow removed from time. Between this book and the previous, Titus breaks the barrier between the two worlds, and with it, our previous conceptions of space and time. Within the walls of Gormenghast castle, the focus is on the past, on tradition, on predetermined fate; yet in Titus Alone, we are exposed to a world with a focus on the future, on self-determination, and innovation. A genius move of Peake, is that he shows us the folly of casting away one set for another.
Can we truly be free without losing ourselves? Can we discard our past in order to create our own future, or is our past an essential part of who we are? In this book Peake demonstrates an overcompensation of the future over the past, of youthful passion over wisdom, and as a result he forces the reader to accept that to do so makes us lose sight of the present. Suppressed by Gormenghast, Titus cannot become his own man, yet to abandon it, and the seventy-six earls before him, means a very loss of identity. And perhaps, madness.
Which leaves us with Peake's most provocative exploration in the book: that Gormenghast itself may be something entirely different than we, or Titus, thought. I would describe the first two books to be "dreamlike" in their feel, yet the narration in Titus Alone seems much sharper, as though the reader's eye-lense is finally coming into focus. Or is it the other way around? What does it mean for a place to be "real?" If nobody has heard of a place, and nobody can find the place, is it even a real place at all? Peake throws to us the idea that Gormenghast castle might truly be a fiction, or perhaps an idea rather than a real place. He provides us with an... interesting resolution to this question, as Titus learns to categorize what is truly important to him, and what makes him, him. Yet, this book isn't meant to answer that question. It is meant to force Titus, and we readers, into something beyond the boundaries of these types of questions:
"Whether or not his home was true or false, existent or nonexistent, there was no time for metaphysics. 'Let them tell me later,' he thought to himself, 'whether I am dead or not; sane or not; now is the time for action."
And indeed the action happens. Beyond ours, or Titus' ability to handle in a comfortable way.
I could easily blather on more about this book (let alone this series), so I will spare you any more musing, but I feel I need to underscore my point one last time. Titus Alone is not, in my opinion, the unfortunate ramblings of a madman, or the shadow of a novel that could have been. It is by no means "unreadable." I believe it to be a masterful stroke, looking to the future of the envisioned series, and I think if Peake had been able to finish his work, we would be looking back on this book as a wonderful fulcrum upon which the story of Titus pivots.
Mervyn Peake is the greatest writer of the English language the world has ever known. There. I said it, and I can't take it back. It's out there now, floating on the interwebs, for the world to disagree with. But at this point, I don't care if the world disagrees with me; I'm tuning the naysayers out with my rightness. Obviously I haven't read every writer of the English language, so there is the possibility that I'm wrong; but, even if I am wrong, I will still claim I'm right, as my mind simply cannot comprehend otherwise.
My reviews of the first two books were relatively short and sweet, yet I feel this book requires some additional discussion to flesh out properly, as it is admittedly a rather problematic book to review. Fans of Mervyn Peake's work will staunchly support the quality, and merits, of the the first two books, Titus Groan and Gormenghast, yet Titus Alone has generated more mixed reactions, even among Peake fans. Some claim it is disjointed, and the unfortunate product of a mind wracked by a horrid disease. Some will even go so far as to deem it unreadable, and will recommend simply sticking with the the first two books.
I realize I am in the minority opinion when I say this, but I wholeheartedly disagree with the negative assessment of Titus Alone. I don't see it as the product of a warped and crippled mind, I see it as the product of a terrifyingly focused mind. I dismiss the claims of it being "unreadable" as it is actually quite the page-turner. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that this book is the most enjoyable of them. Now, I don't mean to say that I think it is better written; Gormenghast is my single favorite, and is the *cough* Peak of the series. Yet, within the context of the two previous novels, Titus Alone is, for me, somehow more grand. By themselves, Titus Groan and Gormenghast can stand alone as crowning masterpieces, whereas the glory of Titus Alone almost depends upon the previous two. Without them, the critics would be right, and it would be a stumbling, disjointed collection of ravings from a mind in its death throes; with them acting as support beams, however, this third book becomes a wonder.
Titus Alone is undoubtedly a deviation. It is strange, weird, and crazy; but that, to me, is the point. It doesn't read like the first two books because it isn't meant to; instead, it is meant to pull the rug out from under our feet, and it succeeds in doing so admirably. As the title of the book says, our only physical link to the first two books is Titus. He is alone, and so too are we. Succumbing to his youthful longings, he leaves his life of comfort, tradition, and certainty in an attempt to become his own man, and to find his own way in the world. Yet, the world he finds is one he is wholly unprepared for, and neither are we. He is meant to be a castaway in this book, to be confused, scared, and restless; we too share these burdens, and Peake forces the reader along on this wild ride.
Many might notice that the frequency, length, and presence of Peake's signature descriptive passages are less pronounced in this book. It moves faster, and gives us less insight into the strange new world into which we are thrust. It seemed to me that this might also be the point. Even during scenes of heavy 'action' in the first two novels, Peake takes the time to paint to the reader the small details surrounding it; the reader is allowed to become familiar with the unique characters, the ever-important surroundings, and get the feel for every pore, crack, and stone of the setting. With Titus Alone, we lose our insight. Entire landscapes zip past us through glimpses in windows, people are different, and our introductions are quick and problematic. The world is as strange to us, as it is to Titus.
The setting and narration of the first two books is inextricably bound to, and by, the crumbling, timeless walls of Gormenghast castle. Gormenghast might as well be in a snow-globe, as time seems to stand still. Peake describes Gormenghast castle as being "ponderous," and so too is the space and time which it inhabits. The rest of the world may be moving right along for all we know, yet Gormenghast "is all" and is somehow removed from time. Between this book and the previous, Titus breaks the barrier between the two worlds, and with it, our previous conceptions of space and time. Within the walls of Gormenghast castle, the focus is on the past, on tradition, on predetermined fate; yet in Titus Alone, we are exposed to a world with a focus on the future, on self-determination, and innovation. A genius move of Peake, is that he shows us the folly of casting away one set for another.
Can we truly be free without losing ourselves? Can we discard our past in order to create our own future, or is our past an essential part of who we are? In this book Peake demonstrates an overcompensation of the future over the past, of youthful passion over wisdom, and as a result he forces the reader to accept that to do so makes us lose sight of the present. Suppressed by Gormenghast, Titus cannot become his own man, yet to abandon it, and the seventy-six earls before him, means a very loss of identity. And perhaps, madness.
Which leaves us with Peake's most provocative exploration in the book: that Gormenghast itself may be something entirely different than we, or Titus, thought. I would describe the first two books to be "dreamlike" in their feel, yet the narration in Titus Alone seems much sharper, as though the reader's eye-lense is finally coming into focus. Or is it the other way around? What does it mean for a place to be "real?" If nobody has heard of a place, and nobody can find the place, is it even a real place at all? Peake throws to us the idea that Gormenghast castle might truly be a fiction, or perhaps an idea rather than a real place. He provides us with an... interesting resolution to this question, as Titus learns to categorize what is truly important to him, and what makes him, him. Yet, this book isn't meant to answer that question. It is meant to force Titus, and we readers, into something beyond the boundaries of these types of questions:
"Whether or not his home was true or false, existent or nonexistent, there was no time for metaphysics. 'Let them tell me later,' he thought to himself, 'whether I am dead or not; sane or not; now is the time for action."
And indeed the action happens. Beyond ours, or Titus' ability to handle in a comfortable way.
I could easily blather on more about this book (let alone this series), so I will spare you any more musing, but I feel I need to underscore my point one last time. Titus Alone is not, in my opinion, the unfortunate ramblings of a madman, or the shadow of a novel that could have been. It is by no means "unreadable." I believe it to be a masterful stroke, looking to the future of the envisioned series, and I think if Peake had been able to finish his work, we would be looking back on this book as a wonderful fulcrum upon which the story of Titus pivots.
February 17, 2019
Titus Alone has the charms and eccentricities, the verbal and visual beauties of its two formidable predecessors, but it is only about half as long as they are, with extremely short chapters, and it lacks their concentrated richness, their depth and perspective.
Is it a radical departure, a sleeker, more streamlined work, its short chapters and overall length appropriate to its more modern setting? Or is it a diseased creation, the production of an artistically disappointed man who had suffered a nervous breakdown two years before and was already in the grip of Parkinson's disease? Or is it best viewed as a mere charcoal sketch, a study containing all the lines but lacking the coloring of the painting that--for whatever reason--was never completed?
I think it is a bit of all three, but I favor the "charcoal sketch" view. The shape of the book--beginning (the modern urban world, Muzzlehatch, his menagerie, Juno), middle (the underground world of beggars and criminals), and conclusion (Titus' revival from illness by Cheetah followed by her betrayal)--seems altogether complete in outline. The theme of madness and Titus' fear of it--which some have seen as proof of Peake's artistic breakdown--is entirely appropriate, given that our hero has been formed and shaped by a world--Gormenghast--that other characters view as his own fantastic creation.
No, I do not find the work deficient in construction or obsessive in its themes. Its principal defect is a lack of texture and balance. Because this book, unlike the others, is not crowded with a richness of incidental characters or overflowing with metaphors and vividly painted scenes, it lacks completeness and complexity, and its eccentric characters and bizarre scenes--no stranger than those of the two earlier books--seem odder and more isolated by comparison.
All in all, an interesting but disappointing read. Still, essential for Peake fans.
April 11, 2017
Titus Groan and Gormenghast are two of my ten favourite books (reviewed on my Favourites shelf), but despite some wonderful language, I struggled with this one, intriguing as it is. My first reading was not enjoyable – it was so far from what I was familiar with and what I expected. Subsequent readings have endeared it to me.
Peake's illustration of Muzzlehatch
Plot
In this, Titus, seventy-seventh earl of Gormenghast is 22 and wandering unknown lands. He is invariably being rescued, nursed or running away, especially by/from Muzzlehatch and Juno, though I’m never convinced as to why they go to such lengths for him. It’s all rather repetitive, especially when other characters start running away too! And then there’s Cheeta, a counterpoint to Juno, who also goes to extraordinary lengths, but for nastier motives.
Where and When?
This story is more dream-like than the earlier volumes: weird, disjointed, implausible, e.g. people at a party initially looking like animals, Muzzlehatch’s extraordinary driving technique (lying on his side), watching and being watched (though the last of those applies just as much to the other books). There are fewer recurring characters (and none from the earlier books, save Titus and Gormenghast).
It’s a totally different milieu and style (written when Parkinson's disease was exerting its toll on Peake). The other two have a wonderfully vivid sense of place (even though we don’t know where it is), but are intriguingly vague about the time period; this book is the other way round. It is explicitly in modern times, as cars and aeroplanes are mentioned, though there is still a distinct old world feel to it (including a Dickensian underclass), which sits oddly with futuristic floating electronic spying devices and death rays. Clearly, this is meant to reflect Titus' situation: adrift, without papers, in a strange country, where no one has ever heard of Gormenghast. In fact it’s so effective that even though this world is more akin to ours, after two rich volumes set in Gormenghast, the reader is almost as disorientated by this new world as Titus. Perhaps it echoe’s Peake’s bewilderment moving from China to England in his formative years. Poor Titus mislays his single flint from Gormenghast, but eventually he realises that doesn’t matter because “he carried his Gormenghast within him”.
What?
It is a strange hybrid: Dickensian characters living Under-River; a socialite’s party more like Wodehouse, Wilde or Waugh ("What is the point of being married if one always bumps into one's wife?"); a comic court scene more like Alice in Wonderland or Wind in the Willows (though the court is a little like Gormenghast: all symbol and procedure), and a few, brief and unexpected entries for the literary bad sex award ("his cock trembled like a harp string"). Overall, it is perhaps most like dystopian sci fi: a bemused outsider is treated as a mad and bad interloper by all-seeing, all-knowing authorities and where a rough underclass survives literally underneath the main cities, which makes me wonder if I would enjoy it more as a standalone book with no references to Gormenghast or the Groans.
Each time I read it, I am more baffled than the last.
Despite that, there are still glimpses of Peake's inimitable use of language: “merest wisp of a man... his presence was a kind of subtraction. He was nondescript to the point of embarrassment”; “his responses to her magnetism grew vaguer... he longed to be alone again... alone to wander listless through the sunbeams”; “head after head in long lines, thick and multitudinous and cohesive as grains of honey-coloured sugar, each grain a face... a delirium of heads: an endless profligacy.”, and an extraordinary simile “I don’t like this place one little bit. My thighs are as wet as turbots.”!
Quotes
• “The very essence of his vocation was ‘removedness’... He was a symbol. He was the law”. (Magistrate)
• “sham nobility of his countenance” (Old Crime)
• “a light to strangle infants by”
• The “merest wisp of a man... his presence was a kind of subtraction. He was nondescript to the point of embarrassment”. (Scientist)
• “a man of the wilds. Of the wilds within himself and the wilds without; there was no beggar alive who could look so ragged and yet... so like a king” (Muzzlehatch)
• “Within a span of Titus’ foot, a beetle minute and heraldic, reflected the moonbeams from its glossy back.”
• “What lights had begun to appear were sucked in by the quenching effect of the darkness.”
• “A flight of sunbeams, traversing the warm, dark air, forced a pool of light on the pillow.”
• “The sun sank with a sob and darkness waded in”
• “What light there was seeped into the great glass buildings as though ashamed.”
• “The old and the worn, who evolved out of the shades like beings spun from darkness.”
• “his responses to her magnetism grew vaguer... he longed to be alone again... alone to wander listless through the sunbeams.”
• “that he abhorred her brain seemed almost to add to his lust for her body”
• “He was no longer entangled in a maze of moods.” (Titus)
• “Head after head in long lines, thick and multitudinous and cohesive as grains of honey-coloured sugar, each grain a face... a delirium of heads: an endless profligacy.”
• “I don’t like this place one little bit. My thighs are as wet as turbots.”!
• “a loquacious river”.
• A floating spy cam is a “petty snooper, prying on man and child, sucking information as a bat sucks blood.”
• “a voice of curds and whey”
• Brief but unexpected sexual references ("scrotum tightening", "his cock trembled like a harp string") and when he first regains consciousness and sees Cheeta, his greeting is "let me suck on your breasts, like little apples, and play upon your nipples with my tongue"
• Cormorant fishing – as in China!
• “they were riding on the wings of a cliché”
All My Peake Reviews
All my Peake/Gormenghast reviews (including biographies/memoirs and books about his art) are on a shelf,
HERE.
Peake's illustration of Muzzlehatch
Plot
In this, Titus, seventy-seventh earl of Gormenghast is 22 and wandering unknown lands. He is invariably being rescued, nursed or running away, especially by/from Muzzlehatch and Juno, though I’m never convinced as to why they go to such lengths for him. It’s all rather repetitive, especially when other characters start running away too! And then there’s Cheeta, a counterpoint to Juno, who also goes to extraordinary lengths, but for nastier motives.
Where and When?
This story is more dream-like than the earlier volumes: weird, disjointed, implausible, e.g. people at a party initially looking like animals, Muzzlehatch’s extraordinary driving technique (lying on his side), watching and being watched (though the last of those applies just as much to the other books). There are fewer recurring characters (and none from the earlier books, save Titus and Gormenghast).
It’s a totally different milieu and style (written when Parkinson's disease was exerting its toll on Peake). The other two have a wonderfully vivid sense of place (even though we don’t know where it is), but are intriguingly vague about the time period; this book is the other way round. It is explicitly in modern times, as cars and aeroplanes are mentioned, though there is still a distinct old world feel to it (including a Dickensian underclass), which sits oddly with futuristic floating electronic spying devices and death rays. Clearly, this is meant to reflect Titus' situation: adrift, without papers, in a strange country, where no one has ever heard of Gormenghast. In fact it’s so effective that even though this world is more akin to ours, after two rich volumes set in Gormenghast, the reader is almost as disorientated by this new world as Titus. Perhaps it echoe’s Peake’s bewilderment moving from China to England in his formative years. Poor Titus mislays his single flint from Gormenghast, but eventually he realises that doesn’t matter because “he carried his Gormenghast within him”.
What?
It is a strange hybrid: Dickensian characters living Under-River; a socialite’s party more like Wodehouse, Wilde or Waugh ("What is the point of being married if one always bumps into one's wife?"); a comic court scene more like Alice in Wonderland or Wind in the Willows (though the court is a little like Gormenghast: all symbol and procedure), and a few, brief and unexpected entries for the literary bad sex award ("his cock trembled like a harp string"). Overall, it is perhaps most like dystopian sci fi: a bemused outsider is treated as a mad and bad interloper by all-seeing, all-knowing authorities and where a rough underclass survives literally underneath the main cities, which makes me wonder if I would enjoy it more as a standalone book with no references to Gormenghast or the Groans.
Each time I read it, I am more baffled than the last.
Despite that, there are still glimpses of Peake's inimitable use of language: “merest wisp of a man... his presence was a kind of subtraction. He was nondescript to the point of embarrassment”; “his responses to her magnetism grew vaguer... he longed to be alone again... alone to wander listless through the sunbeams”; “head after head in long lines, thick and multitudinous and cohesive as grains of honey-coloured sugar, each grain a face... a delirium of heads: an endless profligacy.”, and an extraordinary simile “I don’t like this place one little bit. My thighs are as wet as turbots.”!
Quotes
• “The very essence of his vocation was ‘removedness’... He was a symbol. He was the law”. (Magistrate)
• “sham nobility of his countenance” (Old Crime)
• “a light to strangle infants by”
• The “merest wisp of a man... his presence was a kind of subtraction. He was nondescript to the point of embarrassment”. (Scientist)
• “a man of the wilds. Of the wilds within himself and the wilds without; there was no beggar alive who could look so ragged and yet... so like a king” (Muzzlehatch)
• “Within a span of Titus’ foot, a beetle minute and heraldic, reflected the moonbeams from its glossy back.”
• “What lights had begun to appear were sucked in by the quenching effect of the darkness.”
• “A flight of sunbeams, traversing the warm, dark air, forced a pool of light on the pillow.”
• “The sun sank with a sob and darkness waded in”
• “What light there was seeped into the great glass buildings as though ashamed.”
• “The old and the worn, who evolved out of the shades like beings spun from darkness.”
• “his responses to her magnetism grew vaguer... he longed to be alone again... alone to wander listless through the sunbeams.”
• “that he abhorred her brain seemed almost to add to his lust for her body”
• “He was no longer entangled in a maze of moods.” (Titus)
• “Head after head in long lines, thick and multitudinous and cohesive as grains of honey-coloured sugar, each grain a face... a delirium of heads: an endless profligacy.”
• “I don’t like this place one little bit. My thighs are as wet as turbots.”!
• “a loquacious river”.
• A floating spy cam is a “petty snooper, prying on man and child, sucking information as a bat sucks blood.”
• “a voice of curds and whey”
• Brief but unexpected sexual references ("scrotum tightening", "his cock trembled like a harp string") and when he first regains consciousness and sees Cheeta, his greeting is "let me suck on your breasts, like little apples, and play upon your nipples with my tongue"
• Cormorant fishing – as in China!
• “they were riding on the wings of a cliché”
All My Peake Reviews
All my Peake/Gormenghast reviews (including biographies/memoirs and books about his art) are on a shelf,
HERE.
August 11, 2016
Mervyn Peake was, by all accounts, a powerful presence, an electric character, and a singular creative force. While Tolkien's poetry is the part everyone skips, Peake's invigorates his books. His voice and tone are unique in the English language, and his characterization is delightfully, grotesquely vivid. As an illustrator, he was perhaps somewhat less precise than Dore, but more evocative than Beardsley.
His life and his vision were singular, from his birth in China to his years on the channel island Sark, and finally, his slow deterioration, until he was unable to speak, and drew only clowns in profile, capped as dunces. Though many suggest this deterioration marks the perceived failing of Titus Alone, Peake would complete his final illustrations more than a year later, and did not succumb to death for another decade.
There were some editorial problems with Titus Alone, and though they have been mostly repaired, there are still dissatisfied grumblings about the final form. The ultimate Titus book is not easy to come to terms with, and indeed it took me long thought and consideration. However, I will not coax or argue mitigating circumstances: this book is Peake's vision, and while not as expansive or exacting as the others, it stands as its own work, and completes Peake's philosophical and literary journey as well as we might wish.
Peake was never one to pander. He did not write for any crowd, and he certainly did not write to facilitate escapism. He may have fashioned his work by an aesthetic, so as to mesmerize or mystify the ear, tug at the mind, and certainly to tickle the eye, but he did not give comfortable or simple answers.
The first two books are rather congruous, despite the subtle shifts, the advances and retreats, the many skirmishes Peake engages the reader in, only to return the veil before any clear victory or defeat can be claimed. It was not Peake's intention to stroke and comfort his readers, but to take them from high to low, to present them with wonder and with a vast, unconquerable world of wretched beauty.
Over the long stretch of the first two books, the reader becomes accustomed to the castle Gormengast, to identify with Titus' everyday struggles against plodding tradition. Characters die, others take their place, filling out the ranks, buttressing the ancient walls with their very breath.
There is a safety in tradition, in the comfort we slowly gain from it, as we do in Gormenghast itself: always separate from the world without, unknown and forbidden. Like Titus, we imagine that the outside world must be like the inside one: it cannot be so different, after all, from this crumbling castle, this place which has become another home to legions of awestruck readers.
But any reader content to watch it all play out so familiarly has not been paying attention—has not been listening to Peake. Though there is always the susurrant coo of that comfort, that tradition, we must not forget that, for young Titus, tradition is death, is rot, is black and stagnant waters.
Many readers find themselves utterly thrown when they first begin to encounter the world outside Gormenghast, and realize that it is not what they expected. However, it is difficult for me to imagine how such readers could at once praise Peake for the the singular, spectacular world of the first two books, and then become upset when he continues to expand his vision. They find themselves well-seated by yesterday's revolution, and resent such an unwelcome start.
Peake continues a thread of literary exploration which draws through the great epics, from Homer to Virgil, Tasso, Ariosto, and Milton, to Byron, to Eliot. Like these great works, Peake explores the role and nature of the hero: his connection to tradition, and the purpose chosen for him.
Originally, the epic hero was governed by his own mind, like Odysseus, a mind devious beyond measure, it proved. Then Virgil created his hero of Piety, of submission. Aeneas grasped hold of tradition, trusting in it to lead him. This was a message to the populace: trust in our ways, our traditions, and our Emperor to provide all that you might need. While this message is useful to an empire, it can be rather destructive to the individual, asking that he give up himself to the greater good.
Milton eventually continues this tradition, except he promotes subservience to Church instead of Empire (though there was little enough difference at the time). However, Milton included the old, violent, self-serving hero as a cautionary tale: humility and piety are Adam's strengths, while Satan has the 'false' strengths of warlike might and Odyssean skepticism.
Many later writers, including Byron, found that the Satanic mode of heroism was more appealing to the individual, especially to the iconoclast and artist who was tired of being told to 'pipe down' and 'follow orders'. Nietzsche would carry this sense of heroic individualism to the cusp, when he stated that mankind would have to demolish all tradition, and each individual would have to create a whole philosophy of meaning for himself, and thus become a philosopher of the future known famously as the Ubermensch.
Of course, there is a point when we all must question the whole of tradition, and just as we did when we first learned the art of speech, test what happens when we respond to all questions and demands with a resounding 'no!' These later rebellions, these existential crises can happen at any time, whenever we find ourselves struggling to make a place for ourselves.
Titus leaves home--as he must to become himself. He cannot honestly accept or reject Gormenghast and its tradition unless he can see it objectively, which requires that he develop a more worldly point of view. Like anyone progressing from childhood to adulthood, he questions the fundamental assumptions of his parents and teachers, and by extension, their whole world, and so he sets out on his own. Also, like any of us on the brink of adulthood, he learns that the world the adults promised doesn't really exist.
The real world is stranger, more daunting, and far more vast than the 'right and wrong' of parental morality, or the far-flung imaginings of the child. Even though his readers have been through this shift themselves, and should know to expect it from a changing young man, new to the world, Peake still manages to catch us off guard. Like Titus, the reader expects the world to be different and challenging, but like Titus, they cannot imagine how truly different it will be when it arrives.
Titus Alone has a self-contained plot. It has its own allies and antagonists, its own places, its own conflict, and its own climax. They all add to Peake's running themes of change, growth, beauty, and meaning, but they are their own. However, the climax in Titus Alone is only a dress rehearsal for the true climax, which comes only at the very end, and which remains unsure until then, as pivotal and sudden as the twelfth book of the Aeneid.
This resolution is the culmination of Titus' childhood, of all his former conflicts, of his life and purpose and individuality. It is the thematic culmination of the bildungsroman. It is the philosophical conclusion of Peake's exploration of the role of the hero, the self, and of tradition. It is also the fulfillment of his vision, his unyielding artistic drive. It is the final offering to the reader, his companion and rival on this journey.
He ends with beauty, with questions, with verve, and with a wink.
It still confuses me that many readers seemed to expect Peake to follow works notable for their strangeness and unpredictability with something familiar and indistinguishable. There are many who do this, it is true. There is the revolutionary who topples the regime only to supplant it with his own. There is the mountain climber who tops Everest, and then imagines that the greatest challenge is to do so twice.
You get no higher no matter how many times you climb the mountain. The true visionary adventurer climbs the mountain, and then, as an encore, paints the ceiling of a cathedral. It may not be expected, it may not please those fans who only wanted more of the same, but anything less is an admission of defeat. Peake earned his laurels in the first two books, and while we could hardly blame him for resting on them, he refused to.
Perhaps many readers became comfortable with his rebellion, his iconoclasm. They sympathized with his rejection of tradition, and then happily accepted that rebellion as their new tradition. Like Aeneas, they left crumbling Troy, trusting in their patron deity to carry them through. However, Peake was not content simply to add a new wing to his masterwork. He showed his authorial humility and his commitment to art by razing his own cathedral simply because it was more interesting than leaving it up.
As Nietzsche said: push everything, and abandon whatever topples, no matter how familiar it had become. He who can apply this to himself and to his own works is the only artist deserving of the title--and such is Peake.
My Fantasy Book Suggestions
His life and his vision were singular, from his birth in China to his years on the channel island Sark, and finally, his slow deterioration, until he was unable to speak, and drew only clowns in profile, capped as dunces. Though many suggest this deterioration marks the perceived failing of Titus Alone, Peake would complete his final illustrations more than a year later, and did not succumb to death for another decade.
There were some editorial problems with Titus Alone, and though they have been mostly repaired, there are still dissatisfied grumblings about the final form. The ultimate Titus book is not easy to come to terms with, and indeed it took me long thought and consideration. However, I will not coax or argue mitigating circumstances: this book is Peake's vision, and while not as expansive or exacting as the others, it stands as its own work, and completes Peake's philosophical and literary journey as well as we might wish.
Peake was never one to pander. He did not write for any crowd, and he certainly did not write to facilitate escapism. He may have fashioned his work by an aesthetic, so as to mesmerize or mystify the ear, tug at the mind, and certainly to tickle the eye, but he did not give comfortable or simple answers.
The first two books are rather congruous, despite the subtle shifts, the advances and retreats, the many skirmishes Peake engages the reader in, only to return the veil before any clear victory or defeat can be claimed. It was not Peake's intention to stroke and comfort his readers, but to take them from high to low, to present them with wonder and with a vast, unconquerable world of wretched beauty.
Over the long stretch of the first two books, the reader becomes accustomed to the castle Gormengast, to identify with Titus' everyday struggles against plodding tradition. Characters die, others take their place, filling out the ranks, buttressing the ancient walls with their very breath.
There is a safety in tradition, in the comfort we slowly gain from it, as we do in Gormenghast itself: always separate from the world without, unknown and forbidden. Like Titus, we imagine that the outside world must be like the inside one: it cannot be so different, after all, from this crumbling castle, this place which has become another home to legions of awestruck readers.
But any reader content to watch it all play out so familiarly has not been paying attention—has not been listening to Peake. Though there is always the susurrant coo of that comfort, that tradition, we must not forget that, for young Titus, tradition is death, is rot, is black and stagnant waters.
Many readers find themselves utterly thrown when they first begin to encounter the world outside Gormenghast, and realize that it is not what they expected. However, it is difficult for me to imagine how such readers could at once praise Peake for the the singular, spectacular world of the first two books, and then become upset when he continues to expand his vision. They find themselves well-seated by yesterday's revolution, and resent such an unwelcome start.
Peake continues a thread of literary exploration which draws through the great epics, from Homer to Virgil, Tasso, Ariosto, and Milton, to Byron, to Eliot. Like these great works, Peake explores the role and nature of the hero: his connection to tradition, and the purpose chosen for him.
Originally, the epic hero was governed by his own mind, like Odysseus, a mind devious beyond measure, it proved. Then Virgil created his hero of Piety, of submission. Aeneas grasped hold of tradition, trusting in it to lead him. This was a message to the populace: trust in our ways, our traditions, and our Emperor to provide all that you might need. While this message is useful to an empire, it can be rather destructive to the individual, asking that he give up himself to the greater good.
Milton eventually continues this tradition, except he promotes subservience to Church instead of Empire (though there was little enough difference at the time). However, Milton included the old, violent, self-serving hero as a cautionary tale: humility and piety are Adam's strengths, while Satan has the 'false' strengths of warlike might and Odyssean skepticism.
Many later writers, including Byron, found that the Satanic mode of heroism was more appealing to the individual, especially to the iconoclast and artist who was tired of being told to 'pipe down' and 'follow orders'. Nietzsche would carry this sense of heroic individualism to the cusp, when he stated that mankind would have to demolish all tradition, and each individual would have to create a whole philosophy of meaning for himself, and thus become a philosopher of the future known famously as the Ubermensch.
Of course, there is a point when we all must question the whole of tradition, and just as we did when we first learned the art of speech, test what happens when we respond to all questions and demands with a resounding 'no!' These later rebellions, these existential crises can happen at any time, whenever we find ourselves struggling to make a place for ourselves.
Titus leaves home--as he must to become himself. He cannot honestly accept or reject Gormenghast and its tradition unless he can see it objectively, which requires that he develop a more worldly point of view. Like anyone progressing from childhood to adulthood, he questions the fundamental assumptions of his parents and teachers, and by extension, their whole world, and so he sets out on his own. Also, like any of us on the brink of adulthood, he learns that the world the adults promised doesn't really exist.
The real world is stranger, more daunting, and far more vast than the 'right and wrong' of parental morality, or the far-flung imaginings of the child. Even though his readers have been through this shift themselves, and should know to expect it from a changing young man, new to the world, Peake still manages to catch us off guard. Like Titus, the reader expects the world to be different and challenging, but like Titus, they cannot imagine how truly different it will be when it arrives.
Titus Alone has a self-contained plot. It has its own allies and antagonists, its own places, its own conflict, and its own climax. They all add to Peake's running themes of change, growth, beauty, and meaning, but they are their own. However, the climax in Titus Alone is only a dress rehearsal for the true climax, which comes only at the very end, and which remains unsure until then, as pivotal and sudden as the twelfth book of the Aeneid.
This resolution is the culmination of Titus' childhood, of all his former conflicts, of his life and purpose and individuality. It is the thematic culmination of the bildungsroman. It is the philosophical conclusion of Peake's exploration of the role of the hero, the self, and of tradition. It is also the fulfillment of his vision, his unyielding artistic drive. It is the final offering to the reader, his companion and rival on this journey.
He ends with beauty, with questions, with verve, and with a wink.
It still confuses me that many readers seemed to expect Peake to follow works notable for their strangeness and unpredictability with something familiar and indistinguishable. There are many who do this, it is true. There is the revolutionary who topples the regime only to supplant it with his own. There is the mountain climber who tops Everest, and then imagines that the greatest challenge is to do so twice.
You get no higher no matter how many times you climb the mountain. The true visionary adventurer climbs the mountain, and then, as an encore, paints the ceiling of a cathedral. It may not be expected, it may not please those fans who only wanted more of the same, but anything less is an admission of defeat. Peake earned his laurels in the first two books, and while we could hardly blame him for resting on them, he refused to.
Perhaps many readers became comfortable with his rebellion, his iconoclasm. They sympathized with his rejection of tradition, and then happily accepted that rebellion as their new tradition. Like Aeneas, they left crumbling Troy, trusting in their patron deity to carry them through. However, Peake was not content simply to add a new wing to his masterwork. He showed his authorial humility and his commitment to art by razing his own cathedral simply because it was more interesting than leaving it up.
As Nietzsche said: push everything, and abandon whatever topples, no matter how familiar it had become. He who can apply this to himself and to his own works is the only artist deserving of the title--and such is Peake.
My Fantasy Book Suggestions
February 9, 2017
I waffled a little bit between three and four stars, but in the end Peake's use of language won over the rather odd plot departure in this third book.
I didn't mind that Titus was a stranger in a strange land or that he has apparently skipped far into the future where he's among moderns with airplanes or even stranger "seeing" devices or oddly strange ways of transportation upon one's side. All of that appeared to be a hop into the future beyond when this was written, too, so I'm going to call this SF as well as Fantasy. He seemed to be describing robots and AI! lol
I also liked the fact that Titus was nothing without his rituals or his history or his people. In giving up everything in the last book, he'd given up his own identity.
All good so far!
What kind of annoyed me was pretty much the continuity between the first two books and this one.
There was hardly any. This could have been a standalone quite easily, turning the modern world into a falling-down-the-rabbit-hole kind of fantasy for someone like Titus. Maybe he'd get back up and find a sense of himself beyond his place, and maybe not.
Unfortunately, I don't think he even got that much. The conclusion is quite dire. We are our past.
Do I really like this? No. Not particularly. Will I get over it because the rest of the text is pretty spectacular, minus some really atrocious sex scenes? Yeah, I probably will. :)
I didn't mind that Titus was a stranger in a strange land or that he has apparently skipped far into the future where he's among moderns with airplanes or even stranger "seeing" devices or oddly strange ways of transportation upon one's side. All of that appeared to be a hop into the future beyond when this was written, too, so I'm going to call this SF as well as Fantasy. He seemed to be describing robots and AI! lol
I also liked the fact that Titus was nothing without his rituals or his history or his people. In giving up everything in the last book, he'd given up his own identity.
All good so far!
What kind of annoyed me was pretty much the continuity between the first two books and this one.
There was hardly any. This could have been a standalone quite easily, turning the modern world into a falling-down-the-rabbit-hole kind of fantasy for someone like Titus. Maybe he'd get back up and find a sense of himself beyond his place, and maybe not.
Unfortunately, I don't think he even got that much. The conclusion is quite dire. We are our past.
Do I really like this? No. Not particularly. Will I get over it because the rest of the text is pretty spectacular, minus some really atrocious sex scenes? Yeah, I probably will. :)
December 6, 2018
Book 3 in the Gormenghast series takes the story in an unexpected direction, and one that I felt was not nearly as successful as the first two books. This review is not a spoiler for Titus Alone, but because it is book 3, it is generally a spoiler for the first two books in the series, so I don’t recommend reading this if you have any interest in books 1 and 2, which I reviewed here.
One of the intriguing and compelling aspects of Books 1 and 2 that made it feel so dark and claustrophobic was the enclosed and isolated nature of the kingdom of Gormenghast. Book 3 takes the Earl to-be Titus Groan, as a youth (teenager it would seem), and sends him out in the wide world. He essentially runs away from home. His reason being that he doesn’t want to be defined and ruled by the rituals of Gormenghast and expectations of his royal position. He’s also rather torn up by the death of his sister. Unfortunately, he’s a bit of an idiot. He basically runs away…with nothing. He’s a homeless teen traveling from city to city most of which are hostile to random homeless teens from unknown cities.
The original Gormenghast world seemed to exist in medieval times. There was no technology beyond swords and books. Yet here in the third book, Titus encounters cars and airplanes of some strange sort. It seems as if Gormenghast was so isolated it had no contact with the greater world, which doesn’t really make much sense in any logical way…it’s not on an island or deep in a jungle. Why it would be so separated is never explained.
Titus is not only a bit of an idiot, but he’s also an impulsive teenage jerk. He’s not very likable and his decision-making skills are quite poor. He is repeatedly caught by the law, women seem to fall for him, and he rejects them due to his self-justified wanderlust and a sense of royal entitlement. Because he was born to rule a kingdom, he has a degree of relatively undeserving self-confidence that seems to draw romantic interest from women.
Titus Alone features a panoply of odd characters just as the first two books do, but unfortunately we never become invested in them in the way we do in the first two parts of the series. They seem less comprehensible and somehow…irrelevant. In fact, they are strange in some ways that seemed too similar to the characters from the first two parts of the series…making them feel derivative. His style at this point has become a bit formulaic. Still uniquely his style…I’ve never read any other author with his techniques, but at this point he's imitating himself too much. The peculiarities also worked much better for me when they arose in the isolated world of Gormenghast. I can imagine how such quirks could arise in a very isolated place, but in the outer world they begin to feel contrived.
The writing is still quite fine overall. Peake has a poetic craft with prose that can’t be denied. Unfortunately, the story here feels unnecessary. I’m glad that I read it…out of a sense of completism and curiosity. But it failed to stand up to the value of Books 1 and 2 in the Gormenghast series. I’m going to reiterate that I highly recommend the first two parts, but Book 3 is an unnecessary read.
One of the intriguing and compelling aspects of Books 1 and 2 that made it feel so dark and claustrophobic was the enclosed and isolated nature of the kingdom of Gormenghast. Book 3 takes the Earl to-be Titus Groan, as a youth (teenager it would seem), and sends him out in the wide world. He essentially runs away from home. His reason being that he doesn’t want to be defined and ruled by the rituals of Gormenghast and expectations of his royal position. He’s also rather torn up by the death of his sister. Unfortunately, he’s a bit of an idiot. He basically runs away…with nothing. He’s a homeless teen traveling from city to city most of which are hostile to random homeless teens from unknown cities.
The original Gormenghast world seemed to exist in medieval times. There was no technology beyond swords and books. Yet here in the third book, Titus encounters cars and airplanes of some strange sort. It seems as if Gormenghast was so isolated it had no contact with the greater world, which doesn’t really make much sense in any logical way…it’s not on an island or deep in a jungle. Why it would be so separated is never explained.
Titus is not only a bit of an idiot, but he’s also an impulsive teenage jerk. He’s not very likable and his decision-making skills are quite poor. He is repeatedly caught by the law, women seem to fall for him, and he rejects them due to his self-justified wanderlust and a sense of royal entitlement. Because he was born to rule a kingdom, he has a degree of relatively undeserving self-confidence that seems to draw romantic interest from women.
Titus Alone features a panoply of odd characters just as the first two books do, but unfortunately we never become invested in them in the way we do in the first two parts of the series. They seem less comprehensible and somehow…irrelevant. In fact, they are strange in some ways that seemed too similar to the characters from the first two parts of the series…making them feel derivative. His style at this point has become a bit formulaic. Still uniquely his style…I’ve never read any other author with his techniques, but at this point he's imitating himself too much. The peculiarities also worked much better for me when they arose in the isolated world of Gormenghast. I can imagine how such quirks could arise in a very isolated place, but in the outer world they begin to feel contrived.
The writing is still quite fine overall. Peake has a poetic craft with prose that can’t be denied. Unfortunately, the story here feels unnecessary. I’m glad that I read it…out of a sense of completism and curiosity. But it failed to stand up to the value of Books 1 and 2 in the Gormenghast series. I’m going to reiterate that I highly recommend the first two parts, but Book 3 is an unnecessary read.
November 23, 2022
Mi sveglio di soprassalto gridando: "Tito, dove sei?!"
Il cuore mi martella nel petto, cerco di calmarmi, mi avvicino al comodino, prendo il bicchiere d'acqua e bevo un po'. Passano cinque minuti nella completa immobilità, mi alzo dal letto un po' senza forze, faccio due passi nella stanza e poi l'occhio mi cade sul libro dal titolo "Via da Gormenghast". Eccolo! Mi dico:"Tito, ripartiamo?"
Prendo il libro ed inizio a sfogliarlo, l'abatjour era già accesa, forse mi son addormentato senza accorgermene. Parto col romanzo che conclude la trilogia di Peake ed il suo personaggio, Tito di Gormenghast.
Le pagine scorrono, non con alcuni inconvenienti. La scrittura si fa più aspra e a tratti delirante, grande cambiamento dai due romanzi precedenti. La storia arranca un po', i personaggi "zoppicano", ma c'è una forza formidabile che mi tiene attaccato alle pagine. Comunque non riesco a leggere più che qualche decina di pagine. Lo chiudo e lo ripongo sul comodino. Nella testa gli avvenimenti iniziano a divagare a destra e a manca. Passano i giorni e succede sempre la stessa storia, coinvolgimento e repulsione fanno a gara, a spallate, per prendersi il posto d'onore. Non riesco più a capire se Peake fosse ralmente immerso nella sua gravissima malattia e quindi non riuscisse bene a sviluppare la storia come voleva o se fosse veramente una scelta ponderata. Forse la risposta sta in tutte e due le soluzioni?
Arrivo a metà con un po' di delusione che inizia ad ottenebrarmi la lettura, poi una scintilla lontana, molto lontana, inizia a scoccare le prime schegge ed eccomi lì con Tito nell'universo fantastico, cupo, crepuscolare, tetro, immaginifico, che avevo vissuto nei primi due capitoli della trilogia.
Il finale è...
Passo e chiudo!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQHkp...
Il cuore mi martella nel petto, cerco di calmarmi, mi avvicino al comodino, prendo il bicchiere d'acqua e bevo un po'. Passano cinque minuti nella completa immobilità, mi alzo dal letto un po' senza forze, faccio due passi nella stanza e poi l'occhio mi cade sul libro dal titolo "Via da Gormenghast". Eccolo! Mi dico:"Tito, ripartiamo?"
Prendo il libro ed inizio a sfogliarlo, l'abatjour era già accesa, forse mi son addormentato senza accorgermene. Parto col romanzo che conclude la trilogia di Peake ed il suo personaggio, Tito di Gormenghast.
Le pagine scorrono, non con alcuni inconvenienti. La scrittura si fa più aspra e a tratti delirante, grande cambiamento dai due romanzi precedenti. La storia arranca un po', i personaggi "zoppicano", ma c'è una forza formidabile che mi tiene attaccato alle pagine. Comunque non riesco a leggere più che qualche decina di pagine. Lo chiudo e lo ripongo sul comodino. Nella testa gli avvenimenti iniziano a divagare a destra e a manca. Passano i giorni e succede sempre la stessa storia, coinvolgimento e repulsione fanno a gara, a spallate, per prendersi il posto d'onore. Non riesco più a capire se Peake fosse ralmente immerso nella sua gravissima malattia e quindi non riuscisse bene a sviluppare la storia come voleva o se fosse veramente una scelta ponderata. Forse la risposta sta in tutte e due le soluzioni?
Arrivo a metà con un po' di delusione che inizia ad ottenebrarmi la lettura, poi una scintilla lontana, molto lontana, inizia a scoccare le prime schegge ed eccomi lì con Tito nell'universo fantastico, cupo, crepuscolare, tetro, immaginifico, che avevo vissuto nei primi due capitoli della trilogia.
Il finale è...
Passo e chiudo!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQHkp...
July 12, 2021
Well, it has only taken me fourteen years, but I have finished the trilogy at last; I read the first volume back in 2001 as a high school sophomore, and enjoyed it, but at the time I was being carried along by a seemingly endless wave of writers to discover and rediscover that I didn't fully appreciate it at the time. However, better late than never, and while, as others have noted, Peake's illness left this feeling rather like a condensed version of a larger book (and as much as I miss my favorite character, Gormenghast itself), Peake's vision still burns bright even in truncated form. So much seems to flow from this novel; I get the feeling that many rivers - Ballard, Carter, Harrison, Bernanos' 'Other Side of the Mountain', great swathes of the New Wave and New Weird both, can all trace their point of origin back to the phantasmagoric lands depicted here and in 'Boy in Darkness'.
July 24, 2019
Half way through Book Two of this I was amazed it isn't much more widely appreciated so brilliant was it. Then I read Book Three and found out why. It comes apart at the seams. After creating the fabulously gothic world of Gormenghast and a cast of compellingly oddball characters Peake abandons the brilliant world he created and all but the least interesting character and takes us into a sterile futuristic world which, imaginatively, is nowhere near as convincing as the medieval world of Gormenghast. The new characters merely seem like inferior versions of the old characters as if environment has little or no influence on character and the humour becomes ever more self-indulgent and silly. It felt like he disappeared too far into his imagination and lost touch with some essential objective rigour which is necessary for all novels. I found myself skimming lots of the absurd meandering dialogue and the ending was deeply unsatisfying.
August 8, 2016
The last book in the Gormenghast series was sadly a big let down for me, although I loved the peculiarity of first two books in the series, but things got a lot weird and meaningless for me in this book. Also out of the characters introduced to us in the first two, we have only Titus for company, but sadly he also become a completely unidentifiable character in this book.
Some of the weak points of the book are
1.Story went no where.
2.Characters not well cast out.
3.Unsatisfactory ending.
Let me elaborate on the above points
1.Story went no where.
The story resumes where with Titus finds himself in a town, this town described by Peake is unique in a sense that it has a lot of interesting and weird characters and places in it.
We come to know about it as Titus goes on exploring it, but sadly it is not as interesting as the Gormenghast castle.
The biggest issue this book suffers is that the story in the book goes no where, it just drags as Titus does in the book.
2.Characters not well cast out.
The only character which I liked in the book was Muzzlehatch, but Peake fails to flesh out the intentions of the characters in this book, we just can't understand why is this character behaving in such a way.
Also Peake introduces a bit too many characters and just kills them off or completely removes them and due to this fact you do not care about any character in this book.
3.Unsatisfactory ending.
The book ends in a completely weird way which leaves you scratching your head to understand what just happened and what did I just read ?. You just can't make a sense of lot of things in this book.
I give this book 2 stars, and this is due to fact that I liked the first two books in the series too much, to give it a 1 star.
Some of the weak points of the book are
1.Story went no where.
2.Characters not well cast out.
3.Unsatisfactory ending.
Let me elaborate on the above points
1.Story went no where.
The story resumes where with Titus finds himself in a town, this town described by Peake is unique in a sense that it has a lot of interesting and weird characters and places in it.
We come to know about it as Titus goes on exploring it, but sadly it is not as interesting as the Gormenghast castle.
The biggest issue this book suffers is that the story in the book goes no where, it just drags as Titus does in the book.
2.Characters not well cast out.
The only character which I liked in the book was Muzzlehatch, but Peake fails to flesh out the intentions of the characters in this book, we just can't understand why is this character behaving in such a way.
Also Peake introduces a bit too many characters and just kills them off or completely removes them and due to this fact you do not care about any character in this book.
3.Unsatisfactory ending.
The book ends in a completely weird way which leaves you scratching your head to understand what just happened and what did I just read ?. You just can't make a sense of lot of things in this book.
I give this book 2 stars, and this is due to fact that I liked the first two books in the series too much, to give it a 1 star.
September 21, 2019
Nell'ignoto
“All'inizio, che cosa fu se non un'inquietudine dolce come il canto degli uccelli – una cosa tremula – la consapevolezza che il destino li aveva uniti; un mondo era stato fatto esistere – era stato scoperto? Un mondo, un universo oltre i confini del quale e nelle cui foreste non avevano mai osato avventurarsi. Un mondo da intravedere, non da qualche vetta della fantasia, ma attraverso parole semplici, di per sé vuote come aria, e frasi inutili e senza colore, tranne per il fatto che facevano loro accelerare i polsi”.
La storia è semplice: un ragazzo parte per cercare qualcosa, che un uomo trova vivendo. Il ragazzo e l'uomo, tra finzione e realtà, sono la stessa persona. Quindi la storia di Gormenghast si sviluppa in numerosi sensi: non solo dov'è Gormenghast, la casa perduta, a cui fare ritorno, il nostalgico sogno di appartenenza, ma ancora di più quando è Gormenghast, nell'infanzia sparita in un labirinto di memorie e apparenze, nella giovinezza che si sente dentro per sempre, nella maturità che non concede riposo né segreti, e, infine, nell'invisibile ignoto della solitaria moltitudine. Ci sono tante trame dentro a questo libro, cose di amore e vendetta, scontri di violenze e misteri, fatti di potere e lutto, ombre di morte e perdono; Mervyn Peake dimostra una capacità inventiva straordinaria e incontenibile. Sia nella città utopica che nel Sottofiume dei perdenti, Tito viene respinto nella follia, nell'alienazione e nel gioco spirituale: le esperienze di umanità (amore!, amicizia!) sono decisamente annullate da incubi, tradimenti, uccisioni e disgrazie. Scrive Peake che il mondo, le montagne e gli oceani, le città e le terre, sono prive di fine e di inizio, il cosmo intero è disordinato e futile, le esistenze assoggettate a repulsione e sgomento. Le immagini creano un teatro inconscio di opposizioni e antitesi, la speranza si alterna con la disperazione, lo sguardo storico presuppone il dominio della sorveglianza e la ubiquità delle forze di distruzione: il frutto aspro della scrittura è un pessimismo cupo, quello di Peake, che prevede per la specie la suprema umiliazione, la sconfitta immanente; con un eroe che volge le spalle al luogo, reale e immaginario, dove natura e cultura sono irrevocabilmente minacciate dalla negatività umana, dove non è più possibile fare alcuna ipotesi né di altrove né di futuro.
“È la tua direzione. Vai verso la nuvola. Continua a camminare per circa un mese, e sarai al sicuro, più o meno. Al sicuro dagli sciami di apparecchi senza pilota; dalla burocrazia; dalla polizia. E libero di muoverti. La zona è per lo più inesplorata, e loro sono male equipaggiati. Non hanno reparti specifici per l'acqua, il mare o il cielo. È come dovrebbe essere. Una regione dove nemmeno si ricordano chi è al potere. Ci sono foreste come il giardino dell'Eden, dove puoi sdraiarti sulla pancia e scrivere cattive poesie”.
“All'inizio, che cosa fu se non un'inquietudine dolce come il canto degli uccelli – una cosa tremula – la consapevolezza che il destino li aveva uniti; un mondo era stato fatto esistere – era stato scoperto? Un mondo, un universo oltre i confini del quale e nelle cui foreste non avevano mai osato avventurarsi. Un mondo da intravedere, non da qualche vetta della fantasia, ma attraverso parole semplici, di per sé vuote come aria, e frasi inutili e senza colore, tranne per il fatto che facevano loro accelerare i polsi”.
La storia è semplice: un ragazzo parte per cercare qualcosa, che un uomo trova vivendo. Il ragazzo e l'uomo, tra finzione e realtà, sono la stessa persona. Quindi la storia di Gormenghast si sviluppa in numerosi sensi: non solo dov'è Gormenghast, la casa perduta, a cui fare ritorno, il nostalgico sogno di appartenenza, ma ancora di più quando è Gormenghast, nell'infanzia sparita in un labirinto di memorie e apparenze, nella giovinezza che si sente dentro per sempre, nella maturità che non concede riposo né segreti, e, infine, nell'invisibile ignoto della solitaria moltitudine. Ci sono tante trame dentro a questo libro, cose di amore e vendetta, scontri di violenze e misteri, fatti di potere e lutto, ombre di morte e perdono; Mervyn Peake dimostra una capacità inventiva straordinaria e incontenibile. Sia nella città utopica che nel Sottofiume dei perdenti, Tito viene respinto nella follia, nell'alienazione e nel gioco spirituale: le esperienze di umanità (amore!, amicizia!) sono decisamente annullate da incubi, tradimenti, uccisioni e disgrazie. Scrive Peake che il mondo, le montagne e gli oceani, le città e le terre, sono prive di fine e di inizio, il cosmo intero è disordinato e futile, le esistenze assoggettate a repulsione e sgomento. Le immagini creano un teatro inconscio di opposizioni e antitesi, la speranza si alterna con la disperazione, lo sguardo storico presuppone il dominio della sorveglianza e la ubiquità delle forze di distruzione: il frutto aspro della scrittura è un pessimismo cupo, quello di Peake, che prevede per la specie la suprema umiliazione, la sconfitta immanente; con un eroe che volge le spalle al luogo, reale e immaginario, dove natura e cultura sono irrevocabilmente minacciate dalla negatività umana, dove non è più possibile fare alcuna ipotesi né di altrove né di futuro.
“È la tua direzione. Vai verso la nuvola. Continua a camminare per circa un mese, e sarai al sicuro, più o meno. Al sicuro dagli sciami di apparecchi senza pilota; dalla burocrazia; dalla polizia. E libero di muoverti. La zona è per lo più inesplorata, e loro sono male equipaggiati. Non hanno reparti specifici per l'acqua, il mare o il cielo. È come dovrebbe essere. Una regione dove nemmeno si ricordano chi è al potere. Ci sono foreste come il giardino dell'Eden, dove puoi sdraiarti sulla pancia e scrivere cattive poesie”.
October 24, 2019
I’ve just suffered literary whiplash and I’m about to try and justify why that’s a good thing.
Titus Alone isn’t so much a book as a mystery to be solved. Chances are you’re reading it on the coattails of its two staggering predecessors, Titus Groan and Gormenghast . Consequently, you’ll spend most of the time wondering why it’s so different from the other two. Is it shorter because Peake planned it to be that way? Did he rush it in an attempt to outrun his worsening dementia? Is the brisker style a consequence of said dementia, of the aforementioned rush, or is it simply a stylistic choice meant to reflect the fast, vast world Titus now finds himself in, beyond the borders of his realm?
I’m inclined to believe the latter. I find it helps to think about Peake’s works in aesthetic terms. He was, after all, a painter before he was a writer, and this showed abundantly in the first two books in the series, where scenes weren’t so much described as painted in words.
In that sense, this book, like its predecessors, is as much a literary as an aesthetic experience, only instead of being one of awe and grandeur like standing in the nave of a cathedral, this is one of unhinged manic insanity like... well, listening to a Death Grips album.
This wouldn’t only reflect the deeply strange, alien world Titus is made to confront, but also his poor mental health, as trauma, loneliness and displacement exacerbate his aggressive and sexual impulses.
(By the way, how jarring to find mention of cocks and breasts and tightening scrotums in these books.)
But all these considerations aside, is the book good? I think so...? I am still a bit baffled by it all. Peake’s imagination is still wild and beautiful, and the book contains moments that I would rank highly among the trilogy’s highlights (the fight to the death between the camel and the mule, for one). It has a neat three-act structure, memorable characters… It should be great, but it’s hard to love. Everything in it is permeated by this strange aesthetic, where it’s at once lean and wonky, streamlined and disjointed, like the world it takes place in, like Muzzlehatch’s car.
Titus Alone isn’t so much a book as a mystery to be solved. Chances are you’re reading it on the coattails of its two staggering predecessors, Titus Groan and Gormenghast . Consequently, you’ll spend most of the time wondering why it’s so different from the other two. Is it shorter because Peake planned it to be that way? Did he rush it in an attempt to outrun his worsening dementia? Is the brisker style a consequence of said dementia, of the aforementioned rush, or is it simply a stylistic choice meant to reflect the fast, vast world Titus now finds himself in, beyond the borders of his realm?
I’m inclined to believe the latter. I find it helps to think about Peake’s works in aesthetic terms. He was, after all, a painter before he was a writer, and this showed abundantly in the first two books in the series, where scenes weren’t so much described as painted in words.
In that sense, this book, like its predecessors, is as much a literary as an aesthetic experience, only instead of being one of awe and grandeur like standing in the nave of a cathedral, this is one of unhinged manic insanity like... well, listening to a Death Grips album.
This wouldn’t only reflect the deeply strange, alien world Titus is made to confront, but also his poor mental health, as trauma, loneliness and displacement exacerbate his aggressive and sexual impulses.
(By the way, how jarring to find mention of cocks and breasts and tightening scrotums in these books.)
But all these considerations aside, is the book good? I think so...? I am still a bit baffled by it all. Peake’s imagination is still wild and beautiful, and the book contains moments that I would rank highly among the trilogy’s highlights (the fight to the death between the camel and the mule, for one). It has a neat three-act structure, memorable characters… It should be great, but it’s hard to love. Everything in it is permeated by this strange aesthetic, where it’s at once lean and wonky, streamlined and disjointed, like the world it takes place in, like Muzzlehatch’s car.
September 11, 2011
Mervyn Peake was the Buddy Holly of literature - there was absolutely no doubt that he would have written a great third volume of the Gormenghast saga, but he fell victim to early onset dementia, and all we have are the scraps of notes from this last unhappy period; just as we know full well that the void between 1960 and the rise of the Beatles in 63 would have been filled magnificently by Buddy Holly, whose musical imagination had already at age 22 impressed all with his huge potential. But we were left with the acoustic home made demos recorded in his New York flat before the fatal midwest winter tour, and bittersweet listening they make.
Titus Alone is in no way to be compared with the first two brilliant Gormenghast volumes. I suppose it had to be published, but it reading it just made me sad.
Titus Alone is in no way to be compared with the first two brilliant Gormenghast volumes. I suppose it had to be published, but it reading it just made me sad.
June 20, 2019
Titus Alone loses a bit of the magic that Titus Groan and Gormenghast offer, but the language alone makes it worth a read.
Peake created a fascinating world, and a trilogy that I especially recommend to other writers: these books show that you can do whatever you want with words. A revelation, really.
I wrote this article about the Gormenghast novels.
Peake created a fascinating world, and a trilogy that I especially recommend to other writers: these books show that you can do whatever you want with words. A revelation, really.
I wrote this article about the Gormenghast novels.
February 4, 2018
La mia prima reazione è stata di rifiuto. Fuori da Gormenghast, la narrazione di Peake mi è apparsa surreale, allucinata, lontana dall’eleganza e dal fascino dei primi due capitoli della trilogia. Fortunatamente sono andata avanti, rendendomi conto di aver perso anch’io ogni punto di riferimento, di aver fatto mio lo smarrimento di Tito man mano che la sua fuga lo portava sempre più lontano.
Sparito il profilo della sua casa grande come una montagna. Spariti quel mondo lacerato e le sue torri. Sparito il grigio lichene; sparita l'edera nera. Sparito il labirinto che nutriva i suoi sogni. Sparito il rituale, che era il suo midollo e insieme la sua rovina. Sparita l'infanzia. Sparito tutto.
Paesaggi sconosciuti, acque gelide, terre dure e l’incertezza della meta confondono il giovane Conte e l’avventura ha un sapore amaro.
Sa soltanto che si è lasciato dietro, dall'altra parte dell'orizzonte, qualcosa di caotico; qualcosa di brutale; qualcosa di dolce; qualcosa di vero solo a metà; qualcosa che è un sogno solo a metà; metà del suo cuore; metà di se stesso.
Sarà questa lacerazione ad accompagnarlo nel suo viaggio, che da fuga diventa ben presto ricerca. Perché l’esilio, anche se volontario, porta con sé un senso di sradicamento e la perdita dell’identità.
Fuori da Gormenghast, Tito è solo un vagabondo, uno straccione, un diverso da temere, respingere, rinchiudere. Da un mondo sospeso nel tempo e nello spazio, ci ritroviamo in una città moderna, ipertecnologica, il cui cielo è affollato di oggetti volanti che spiano e intercettano chi a quella città non appartiene o chi non ne rispetta le leggi.
L’impatto è terribile. Rinchiuso in una cella, liberato da amici inaspettati, Tito inizia a perdere ogni certezza. La casa lontana gli sembra un sogno, nessuno conosce il suo regno dal nome impronunciabile. Non è più il Conte, è un reietto, un folle che racconta storie, che va dicendo di essere l’erede di un uomo ucciso dai gufi. E non serve a nulla, ormai nemmeno a lui, quella selce a forma di uovo, unica reliquia della casa abbandonata cui si aggrappa per convincersi che Gormenghast esiste. È stato inevitabile per me pensare ai tanti che, abbandonati paesi di cui a stento e non sempre conosciamo il nome, affrontano viaggi della morte attraverso deserti e un grande mare insensibile per approdare in città in cui gli uomini sono muri di pietra e la vita sognata finisce in un centro di accoglienza lager, in cui vengono depositati come rottami e scarti senza storia.
È forte in tutto il romanzo il contatto con la realtà, una realtà spietata in cui il male ha abbandonato l’aspetto rivoltante di Ferraguzzo, per assumere mille volti e mille travestimenti. Ci sono fabbriche di morte, scienziati che perfezionano strumenti di distruzione. C’è un mondo di sotto (Sottofiume), una città sotterranea che accoglie vagabondi, criminali, profughi, poeti falliti, poveri, che si nascondono per non essere catturati. Sono gli echi della seconda guerra mondiale e dei suoi orrori a rimbombare tra le righe. Ma c’è anche traccia di quella solidarietà silenziosa che ha lenito sofferenze e salvato vite. La ritroviamo nelle figure di Musotorto, Giuna e di tre abitanti del Sottofiume, che incontrano Tito e lo aiutano, senza contropartita. Amicizia e amore non riescono però a placare l’inquietudine del giovane, quel senso di incompletezza che prova sin da bambino e che adesso non è più il contrasto tra desiderio di libertà e dovere di nascita.
Ora che tutto è messo in dubbio, il suo passato, la sua identità, Tito desidera solo ritrovare casa, quel mostro di pietra senza il quale crede di non avere un posto nel mondo.
La quest continua, verso altri luoghi di vetro e marmo, verso altri sconosciuti, altro odio e altra derisione, con la sensazione che
Ci sono dei momenti in cui l'aria che aleggia tra i mortali diventa, con la sua immobilità, il suo silenzio, crudele come la lama di una falce.
Un ultimo viaggio lo condurrà alle pendici del Gormenghast. Salirà in alto, come faceva da bambino, per guardare la casa ritrovata. In quello sguardo, una consapevolezza nuova
Tutto ciò che aveva cercato era vivo dentro di lui. Era cresciuto. Un uomo aveva trovato ciò che un ragazzo era partito per cercare, e lo aveva trovato vivendo.
Inviato da iPad
Sparito il profilo della sua casa grande come una montagna. Spariti quel mondo lacerato e le sue torri. Sparito il grigio lichene; sparita l'edera nera. Sparito il labirinto che nutriva i suoi sogni. Sparito il rituale, che era il suo midollo e insieme la sua rovina. Sparita l'infanzia. Sparito tutto.
Paesaggi sconosciuti, acque gelide, terre dure e l’incertezza della meta confondono il giovane Conte e l’avventura ha un sapore amaro.
Sa soltanto che si è lasciato dietro, dall'altra parte dell'orizzonte, qualcosa di caotico; qualcosa di brutale; qualcosa di dolce; qualcosa di vero solo a metà; qualcosa che è un sogno solo a metà; metà del suo cuore; metà di se stesso.
Sarà questa lacerazione ad accompagnarlo nel suo viaggio, che da fuga diventa ben presto ricerca. Perché l’esilio, anche se volontario, porta con sé un senso di sradicamento e la perdita dell’identità.
Fuori da Gormenghast, Tito è solo un vagabondo, uno straccione, un diverso da temere, respingere, rinchiudere. Da un mondo sospeso nel tempo e nello spazio, ci ritroviamo in una città moderna, ipertecnologica, il cui cielo è affollato di oggetti volanti che spiano e intercettano chi a quella città non appartiene o chi non ne rispetta le leggi.
L’impatto è terribile. Rinchiuso in una cella, liberato da amici inaspettati, Tito inizia a perdere ogni certezza. La casa lontana gli sembra un sogno, nessuno conosce il suo regno dal nome impronunciabile. Non è più il Conte, è un reietto, un folle che racconta storie, che va dicendo di essere l’erede di un uomo ucciso dai gufi. E non serve a nulla, ormai nemmeno a lui, quella selce a forma di uovo, unica reliquia della casa abbandonata cui si aggrappa per convincersi che Gormenghast esiste. È stato inevitabile per me pensare ai tanti che, abbandonati paesi di cui a stento e non sempre conosciamo il nome, affrontano viaggi della morte attraverso deserti e un grande mare insensibile per approdare in città in cui gli uomini sono muri di pietra e la vita sognata finisce in un centro di accoglienza lager, in cui vengono depositati come rottami e scarti senza storia.
È forte in tutto il romanzo il contatto con la realtà, una realtà spietata in cui il male ha abbandonato l’aspetto rivoltante di Ferraguzzo, per assumere mille volti e mille travestimenti. Ci sono fabbriche di morte, scienziati che perfezionano strumenti di distruzione. C’è un mondo di sotto (Sottofiume), una città sotterranea che accoglie vagabondi, criminali, profughi, poeti falliti, poveri, che si nascondono per non essere catturati. Sono gli echi della seconda guerra mondiale e dei suoi orrori a rimbombare tra le righe. Ma c’è anche traccia di quella solidarietà silenziosa che ha lenito sofferenze e salvato vite. La ritroviamo nelle figure di Musotorto, Giuna e di tre abitanti del Sottofiume, che incontrano Tito e lo aiutano, senza contropartita. Amicizia e amore non riescono però a placare l’inquietudine del giovane, quel senso di incompletezza che prova sin da bambino e che adesso non è più il contrasto tra desiderio di libertà e dovere di nascita.
Ora che tutto è messo in dubbio, il suo passato, la sua identità, Tito desidera solo ritrovare casa, quel mostro di pietra senza il quale crede di non avere un posto nel mondo.
La quest continua, verso altri luoghi di vetro e marmo, verso altri sconosciuti, altro odio e altra derisione, con la sensazione che
Ci sono dei momenti in cui l'aria che aleggia tra i mortali diventa, con la sua immobilità, il suo silenzio, crudele come la lama di una falce.
Un ultimo viaggio lo condurrà alle pendici del Gormenghast. Salirà in alto, come faceva da bambino, per guardare la casa ritrovata. In quello sguardo, una consapevolezza nuova
Tutto ciò che aveva cercato era vivo dentro di lui. Era cresciuto. Un uomo aveva trovato ciò che un ragazzo era partito per cercare, e lo aveva trovato vivendo.
Inviato da iPad
December 7, 2016
3.5 that I'm rounding up because the trilogy as a whole was awesome this book just didn't have the same magic as the first two.
July 5, 2023
Titus Alone is an interesting novel. I think it’s a solid book, but undeniably feel conflicted about it. Upfront I enjoyed the core ending of the novel. A key theme that is fundamental for this novel, is Titus Manhood, from a Youth to Adult. It stated early on:
It's an aspect that is touched upon quite continuously. I won’t spoil the ending (though there is little plot to spoil in general). I know it's controversial, but I ended up liking where it left off. But my issue lies in how it got to that decision. It's something that didn’t feel earned, to be frank. It has the individual components, but it lacks the polish to make it feel cohesive and seamless. Therefore, I feel this is a good draft of a novel. There are so many little aspects that didn’t feel thought out, aspects that should be cut, and some that should be expanded. The core message feels a bit fumbled; it has individual good scenes, even fantastic ones, but it lacks the polish to unify them seamlessly. Which is part of the charm of Gormenghast, the original duology. It's astonishing how masterfully crafted those novels are, everything feels deliberate, and they have a smart intent that reinforces core themes, messages, and characters. It's able to execute it so brilliantly because Gormenghast is a character in itself, it's not just a setting so everything feels like valuable insight.
Muzzlehatch, to me, was the standout of the novel. He just has this aura, that makes it exciting to read about him, the dialogue is on point, and there's so much intrigue about that character. The rest aren’t that exciting, but they have some nice aspects to them, especially delving into certain themes. For example,
Overall, a lot of the characters pale in comparison to the original duology. This, to me, felt like a very unfinished portion of the novel. To me, it seems like Peake would have given more character, the only one who had proper arcs were Muzzlehatch and Juno at least to an extent. The brilliance of Peake shines throughout the novel, it's just not really consistent. But during the latter half, where Titus had a fever dream about Gormenghast, and the final act was pretty interesting to observe. The beginning is also very interesting but falters in the middle portion.
The prose is still fantastic, even though Mervyn Peake wasn’t great when writing the novel. He didn’t lose that talent, its less polished than the first two, but it's still great. Peake dialogue in general is so fun to read, in particular Muzzlehatch. What you usually expect from Peake is still portrayed here, but it's messier, sadly, because of Peake's unfortunate health. Though I don’t seriously understand how the female characters are attracted to Titus at all.
I do want to say I think the change in the narrative in Titus Alone, even if Peake was in full health, will always dwarfed by the shadow of the first two novels. He intended to write 5 books about Titus, of which only the first 2 would take place in Gormenghast. I do think this could have been a great novel, (or at least a more cohesive novel), but yeah, the situation is unfortunate. Overall, I still highly recommend the first two novels in Gormenghast, as a duology. Though I like this entry, I think it somewhat pales in comparison and is not needed if you don't feel like reading Book 3. It's not a decision I regret; the brilliance of Peake is still featured here. It’s tragic that one of the greatest voices in fantasy passed away before getting to finish his Mangum Opus. I'm glad I got the opportunity to read this series.
re-edit: 6.5-7 /10 before it was 6/10 but I think I was being overly harsh.
“ he was no longer child or youth, but by reason of his knowledge of tragedy, violence and the sense of his own perfidy, he was far more than these, though less than man.”
It's an aspect that is touched upon quite continuously. I won’t spoil the ending (though there is little plot to spoil in general). I know it's controversial, but I ended up liking where it left off. But my issue lies in how it got to that decision. It's something that didn’t feel earned, to be frank. It has the individual components, but it lacks the polish to make it feel cohesive and seamless. Therefore, I feel this is a good draft of a novel. There are so many little aspects that didn’t feel thought out, aspects that should be cut, and some that should be expanded. The core message feels a bit fumbled; it has individual good scenes, even fantastic ones, but it lacks the polish to unify them seamlessly. Which is part of the charm of Gormenghast, the original duology. It's astonishing how masterfully crafted those novels are, everything feels deliberate, and they have a smart intent that reinforces core themes, messages, and characters. It's able to execute it so brilliantly because Gormenghast is a character in itself, it's not just a setting so everything feels like valuable insight.
Muzzlehatch, to me, was the standout of the novel. He just has this aura, that makes it exciting to read about him, the dialogue is on point, and there's so much intrigue about that character. The rest aren’t that exciting, but they have some nice aspects to them, especially delving into certain themes. For example,
Overall, a lot of the characters pale in comparison to the original duology. This, to me, felt like a very unfinished portion of the novel. To me, it seems like Peake would have given more character, the only one who had proper arcs were Muzzlehatch and Juno at least to an extent. The brilliance of Peake shines throughout the novel, it's just not really consistent. But during the latter half, where Titus had a fever dream about Gormenghast, and the final act was pretty interesting to observe. The beginning is also very interesting but falters in the middle portion.
The prose is still fantastic, even though Mervyn Peake wasn’t great when writing the novel. He didn’t lose that talent, its less polished than the first two, but it's still great. Peake dialogue in general is so fun to read, in particular Muzzlehatch. What you usually expect from Peake is still portrayed here, but it's messier, sadly, because of Peake's unfortunate health. Though I don’t seriously understand how the female characters are attracted to Titus at all.
I do want to say I think the change in the narrative in Titus Alone, even if Peake was in full health, will always dwarfed by the shadow of the first two novels. He intended to write 5 books about Titus, of which only the first 2 would take place in Gormenghast. I do think this could have been a great novel, (or at least a more cohesive novel), but yeah, the situation is unfortunate. Overall, I still highly recommend the first two novels in Gormenghast, as a duology. Though I like this entry, I think it somewhat pales in comparison and is not needed if you don't feel like reading Book 3. It's not a decision I regret; the brilliance of Peake is still featured here. It’s tragic that one of the greatest voices in fantasy passed away before getting to finish his Mangum Opus. I'm glad I got the opportunity to read this series.
re-edit: 6.5-7 /10 before it was 6/10 but I think I was being overly harsh.
August 26, 2017
Mervyn Peake, with 1970's "Titus Alone", seemingly (to me only) lays the foundation for the action thriller, "Mad Max" which was released in 1979 but I must point out that the director (George Miller) and the producer (Kennedy) used an original screenplay based on the world's oil crisis of the 1970s. (More on that shortly.*) "Titus Alone" is a far different type of novel than "Titus Groan" (5 star rating from me) and "Gormenghast" (also a 5 star rating from me, and I've given only a few authors more than one 5- star rating, so Peake joins an elite group of authors that have absolutely rocked my world). In "Titus Alone", Peake does away with a number of elements; 1) breathtaking, achingly beautiful passages ripe for multiple reads in "Groan" and "Gormenghast"; 2) passages devoted to the intense, brilliant planning and execution of power struggles (including spouse hunting, and in Peake's world, that is nothing less than power planning), and 3) saddest of all, we leave the major character of these two books: Gormenghast itself which must be one of the great houses/castles/fortresses in all of literature. With "Titus Alone" Peake delivers a tighter, faster-paced novel. *Here, we're amid a ruined landscape of ruined people, ruined machinery, etc., and the name of the game, the only game, is runrunrun for survival. I very much enjoyed "Titus Alone" and one could argue that since the author was fighting mental problems during the writing of this book, his achievement is all the more amazing. And although I can't possibly give away the sensational ending to "Titus Alone", I can say the ending is similar to the end of "Gormenghast" and, oh, here is a comment that hurts to consider: with the end of "Alone" and with what little I know of "Titus Awakes", Peake had opened for himself a singular world ripe for novel after novel after novel. I'll say this again: I had never heard of Mervyn Peake until one of the stellar goodreads reviewers we are blessed with introduced me to him. If you love to read, and you pride yourself, like me, on seeking out and reading a bit of everything, then "Titus Alone" and "Gormenghast" are two literary masterpieces you MUST read. And if you're an action thriller fan (that isn't one of my favorite genres) , you can't miss "Titus Alone." Now, it's time to seek out "Titus Awakes", which I believe was written by Peake's wife based on a few notes Peake had left to us. Peake has singlehandedly made 2017 one of my favorite reading years ever.
October 2, 2019
Alienante
Il capitolo conclusivo della trilogia lascia il lettore spiazzato: come Tito, anche noi abbiamo imparato a conoscere l'immenso castello di Gormenghast, fino a considerare come familiari i suoi rituali e la sua decadenza; come Tito abbiamo strabuzzato gli occhi quando ci siamo avveduti di cosa c'è fuori da Gormenghast. Un mondo inaspettato e sconvolgente che, e qui sta la genialità dell'autore, riesce a trasmetterci lo stesso senso di alienazione e follia che provoca in Tito. Sorprendente e terribile.
Il capitolo conclusivo della trilogia lascia il lettore spiazzato: come Tito, anche noi abbiamo imparato a conoscere l'immenso castello di Gormenghast, fino a considerare come familiari i suoi rituali e la sua decadenza; come Tito abbiamo strabuzzato gli occhi quando ci siamo avveduti di cosa c'è fuori da Gormenghast. Un mondo inaspettato e sconvolgente che, e qui sta la genialità dell'autore, riesce a trasmetterci lo stesso senso di alienazione e follia che provoca in Tito. Sorprendente e terribile.
May 19, 2014
I have a rocky relationship with the Gormenghast book. I've often found the writing style too ornate - deliciously descriptive, true, but also sometimes so adorned that I can't tell what the hell is going on. I found the second book more readable than the first. I find the third more readable than the previous two. The problem is, while it was a more pleasant read, I'm not sure why it exists.
Note: The rest of this review has been withheld due to the changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.
In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook
Note: The rest of this review has been withheld due to the changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.
In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook
December 20, 2019
While i guess we could still call this fantasy, at least as much as the previous ones, i don;t think we can call it gothic anymore. Ths is like a sort of steampunk-Great Gatsby with grothesque shadows of WWII lurking here and there.
It is a complete story in that it has an ending which i wasn't sure it would have, however the start and middle are a little hazier. Many sections feel abridged or truncated. A plot of sorts really only begins at the 3-quarter mark.
Still vivid and memorable, Titus himself has never been much of a character though and is never the most interesting person in the room but the sidecharacters are unique as always.
I'm debating whether to buy the trilogy but its scenes engrain themselves so deeply it might be quite a long time before you feel the need to reread it ;) .
It is a complete story in that it has an ending which i wasn't sure it would have, however the start and middle are a little hazier. Many sections feel abridged or truncated. A plot of sorts really only begins at the 3-quarter mark.
Still vivid and memorable, Titus himself has never been much of a character though and is never the most interesting person in the room but the sidecharacters are unique as always.
I'm debating whether to buy the trilogy but its scenes engrain themselves so deeply it might be quite a long time before you feel the need to reread it ;) .
December 4, 2016
A decent wrap up to the trilogy, but it was not as satisfying as the first two books having not taken place within the walls of Gormenghast with all the characters I have come to know and love. But, the weirdness of the new characters and scenes, along with Peake's way with imaginative descriptions, were still all there to be savored.
November 10, 2019
*****SUPERSPOILER******
Il titolo del romanzo originale è TITUS ALONE. E credo renda meglio la sensazione di spaesamento di Tito e allo stesso tempo del lettore di fronte a questo nuovo episodio della saga.
“Sparito il labirinto che nutriva i suoi sogni. Sparito il rituale, che era il suo midollo e insieme la sua rovina. Sparita l'infanzia. Sparito tutto”.
E sparito tutto è anche per noi, adesso che Gormenghast non esiste più.
Nella prima parte del libro confesso di avere avuto più volte il desiderio di chiuderlo e lasciarlo lì a marcire, ripensando a Lisca, a Fucsia, ai vecchi fasti di quella scrittura eterea che ha creato quel meraviglioso castello di carta in cui mi sono immersa fino in fondo. La scrittura si trascina qui, annoia e Tito non è all’altezza di gestire tutto da solo, ha bisogno di una spalla valida che regga il gioco, Musotorto. La seconda parte migliora, l’azione lo rende più veloce e fa dimenticare le mancanze del linguaggio che mi hanno affascinato nei primi due libri. La fine è il colpo di grazia, una folata di vento che getta le carte via in un soffio. Tito, Tito tu sei Gormenghast, non esisti, e lo hai provato con questo libro, al di fuori di queste mura. Non puoi voltarti e andartene come se nulla fosse. E’ vero, Gormenghast è un non luogo e in quanto tale può esistere anche dentro di te, ma sei tu che non esisti senza di lui. Torna indietro. Riporta Fucsia e Lisca in vita e fai rivivere i fasti del castello. Gormenghast non può vivere senza un Principe che la regga. E Gormenghast non può morire.
FIRMATO: Una nostalgica
Il titolo del romanzo originale è TITUS ALONE. E credo renda meglio la sensazione di spaesamento di Tito e allo stesso tempo del lettore di fronte a questo nuovo episodio della saga.
“Sparito il labirinto che nutriva i suoi sogni. Sparito il rituale, che era il suo midollo e insieme la sua rovina. Sparita l'infanzia. Sparito tutto”.
E sparito tutto è anche per noi, adesso che Gormenghast non esiste più.
Nella prima parte del libro confesso di avere avuto più volte il desiderio di chiuderlo e lasciarlo lì a marcire, ripensando a Lisca, a Fucsia, ai vecchi fasti di quella scrittura eterea che ha creato quel meraviglioso castello di carta in cui mi sono immersa fino in fondo. La scrittura si trascina qui, annoia e Tito non è all’altezza di gestire tutto da solo, ha bisogno di una spalla valida che regga il gioco, Musotorto. La seconda parte migliora, l’azione lo rende più veloce e fa dimenticare le mancanze del linguaggio che mi hanno affascinato nei primi due libri. La fine è il colpo di grazia, una folata di vento che getta le carte via in un soffio. Tito, Tito tu sei Gormenghast, non esisti, e lo hai provato con questo libro, al di fuori di queste mura. Non puoi voltarti e andartene come se nulla fosse. E’ vero, Gormenghast è un non luogo e in quanto tale può esistere anche dentro di te, ma sei tu che non esisti senza di lui. Torna indietro. Riporta Fucsia e Lisca in vita e fai rivivere i fasti del castello. Gormenghast non può vivere senza un Principe che la regga. E Gormenghast non può morire.
FIRMATO: Una nostalgica
May 11, 2024
Tito in fuga
A malincuore devo annoverarmi fra i delusi da questo terzo volume della trilogia di Gormenghast. Forse per l’inevitabile confronto con i primi due eccellenti romanzi, ma più probabilmente mi sento di condividere l’osservazione, addotta da diverse fonti e commenti, che questa non è più l’opera di un autore nel pieno possesso delle proprie facoltà creative, dominato com’è dall’aggravarsi della malattia neurodegenerativa che lo affligge da tempo.
A riprova è sufficiente la postfazione del curatore Langdon Jones da cui si evince che alla base del libro c’è un lavoro di collage effettuato su diverse versioni, almeno tre, integrate dai taccuini di Peake, dalle indicazioni dell’editor e dalle annotazioni dello stesso scrittore. Ciò non può che conferire al testo l’evidente carattere di frammentarietà e squilibrio che contrasta con la compattezza e l’estrema cura dei precedenti.
Comunque sia, questo è il romanzo risultante, “Titus Alone”, in italiano reintitolato “Via da Gormenghast” un po’ ingannevolmente,
Il racconto è caratterizzato dal tema della fuga, cominciata già alla fine del secondo volume come diserzione e liberazione dal peso insostenibile del trono dei Lamenti, e che prosegue qui come evasione anche dai nuovi legami. E’ un continuo movimento di ricerca, dove il protagonista, ormai lontano da Gormenghast, attraversa inediti scenari e intreccia altri rapporti senza mai liberarsi da un sentimento di inquietudine ed insoddisfazione e dal costante desiderio di essere altrove, addirittura di tornare al luogo natìo, anche se tale pulsione si rivelerà a sua volta ingannevole.
Questa sensazione di instabilità si riverbera sui nuovi personaggi, strani nomi e soprannomi come negli abitanti del castello, ma che qui sembrano incompiuti, vuoti involucri di personalità sfocate, dal comportamento ambiguo e privo di profondità e della rifinitura che, rispetto alle bozze disseminate, certamente Peake avrebbe apportato se ne avesse avuto il tempo e la lucidità.
Anche i luoghi, la villa di Lady Canicuspide dove Tito irrompe cadendo dal lucernaio, il mondo del Sottofiume, la Casa Nera, nuove locations di questo terzo romanzo, non sembrano mai in grado di rivaleggiare col fascino, l’originalità e la suggestione del castello-mondo di Gormenghast la cui assenza sembra dominare non solo la mente di Tito ma l’impalcatura stessa del libro.
Ho notato che diversi commenti hanno comunque sottolineato il valore del romanzo e la sua continuità nello spirito della trilogia ma, per quanto mi riguarda, mi è rimasto il rammarico di quel che avrebbe potuto essere ma non è.
A malincuore devo annoverarmi fra i delusi da questo terzo volume della trilogia di Gormenghast. Forse per l’inevitabile confronto con i primi due eccellenti romanzi, ma più probabilmente mi sento di condividere l’osservazione, addotta da diverse fonti e commenti, che questa non è più l’opera di un autore nel pieno possesso delle proprie facoltà creative, dominato com’è dall’aggravarsi della malattia neurodegenerativa che lo affligge da tempo.
A riprova è sufficiente la postfazione del curatore Langdon Jones da cui si evince che alla base del libro c’è un lavoro di collage effettuato su diverse versioni, almeno tre, integrate dai taccuini di Peake, dalle indicazioni dell’editor e dalle annotazioni dello stesso scrittore. Ciò non può che conferire al testo l’evidente carattere di frammentarietà e squilibrio che contrasta con la compattezza e l’estrema cura dei precedenti.
Comunque sia, questo è il romanzo risultante, “Titus Alone”, in italiano reintitolato “Via da Gormenghast” un po’ ingannevolmente,
Il racconto è caratterizzato dal tema della fuga, cominciata già alla fine del secondo volume come diserzione e liberazione dal peso insostenibile del trono dei Lamenti, e che prosegue qui come evasione anche dai nuovi legami. E’ un continuo movimento di ricerca, dove il protagonista, ormai lontano da Gormenghast, attraversa inediti scenari e intreccia altri rapporti senza mai liberarsi da un sentimento di inquietudine ed insoddisfazione e dal costante desiderio di essere altrove, addirittura di tornare al luogo natìo, anche se tale pulsione si rivelerà a sua volta ingannevole.
Questa sensazione di instabilità si riverbera sui nuovi personaggi, strani nomi e soprannomi come negli abitanti del castello, ma che qui sembrano incompiuti, vuoti involucri di personalità sfocate, dal comportamento ambiguo e privo di profondità e della rifinitura che, rispetto alle bozze disseminate, certamente Peake avrebbe apportato se ne avesse avuto il tempo e la lucidità.
Anche i luoghi, la villa di Lady Canicuspide dove Tito irrompe cadendo dal lucernaio, il mondo del Sottofiume, la Casa Nera, nuove locations di questo terzo romanzo, non sembrano mai in grado di rivaleggiare col fascino, l’originalità e la suggestione del castello-mondo di Gormenghast la cui assenza sembra dominare non solo la mente di Tito ma l’impalcatura stessa del libro.
Ho notato che diversi commenti hanno comunque sottolineato il valore del romanzo e la sua continuità nello spirito della trilogia ma, per quanto mi riguarda, mi è rimasto il rammarico di quel che avrebbe potuto essere ma non è.
September 16, 2021
"Once there were islands all a-sprout with palms; and coral reefs and sands as white as milk. What is there now but a vast shambles of the heart? Filth, squalor, and a world of little men."
*
The Gormenghast books all herald surrealism, but reading TITUS ALONE feels like you're dreaming someone else's dream.
Let me get a few minor criticisms out of the way: this book is way too short. It simply isn't as fulfilling as the other two. It just doesn't have the same fly-in-honey quality. Instead it flits from scene to scene in brief chapters — which was dizzy fun initially but grew tiring.
There is an "Under-River" segment where the author confusingly makes us spend fleeting moments with some eccentric outcasts. I didn't like that segment at first, curious as it was.
"Humph, the story would have flowed much more nicely," thought I haughtily, "had this segment been removed altogether."
I put the book down for the day, distastefully turned off. Next evening, with a groan I decided to re-read that entire portion. This time I smiled almost all the way through it as I realized how genius it was. How profoundly unorthodox, but making complete sense!
And that's what I think I've loved most about reading these novels: the pauses I took to absorb what picture Peake had drawn before my eyes without me having the faintest clue he'd been drawing at all.
This is the ballsiest final entry to a series you could hope to find, and that's either going to delight readers or piss them off. I was mostly delighted, but there was something off kilter about Titus Alone -- the lack of leg room, perhaps. The reader doesn't get enough space to breathe as they are pulled or shoved along with Titus Groan, our 77th Earl of Gormenghast. In the first two volumes we grow accustomed to Gormenghast and its insentience -- here we're thrown out of our atmospheric aesthetic, kept as detached from our comfort zone as our protagonist whom we've seen evolve over a uniquely peculiar tale. It's experimental and also more "fantastical" than what we got before.
I think it goes without saying that this is about as polished as prose gets. I bet Peake was rightfully proud of what he wrote. I should hope so, anyway.
Overall this is a very special trilogy. My highest recommendations.
*
The Gormenghast books all herald surrealism, but reading TITUS ALONE feels like you're dreaming someone else's dream.
Let me get a few minor criticisms out of the way: this book is way too short. It simply isn't as fulfilling as the other two. It just doesn't have the same fly-in-honey quality. Instead it flits from scene to scene in brief chapters — which was dizzy fun initially but grew tiring.
There is an "Under-River" segment where the author confusingly makes us spend fleeting moments with some eccentric outcasts. I didn't like that segment at first, curious as it was.
"Humph, the story would have flowed much more nicely," thought I haughtily, "had this segment been removed altogether."
I put the book down for the day, distastefully turned off. Next evening, with a groan I decided to re-read that entire portion. This time I smiled almost all the way through it as I realized how genius it was. How profoundly unorthodox, but making complete sense!
And that's what I think I've loved most about reading these novels: the pauses I took to absorb what picture Peake had drawn before my eyes without me having the faintest clue he'd been drawing at all.
This is the ballsiest final entry to a series you could hope to find, and that's either going to delight readers or piss them off. I was mostly delighted, but there was something off kilter about Titus Alone -- the lack of leg room, perhaps. The reader doesn't get enough space to breathe as they are pulled or shoved along with Titus Groan, our 77th Earl of Gormenghast. In the first two volumes we grow accustomed to Gormenghast and its insentience -- here we're thrown out of our atmospheric aesthetic, kept as detached from our comfort zone as our protagonist whom we've seen evolve over a uniquely peculiar tale. It's experimental and also more "fantastical" than what we got before.
I think it goes without saying that this is about as polished as prose gets. I bet Peake was rightfully proud of what he wrote. I should hope so, anyway.
Overall this is a very special trilogy. My highest recommendations.
April 23, 2015
This book achieves the rare feat of making the other books in the series feel worse on reflection. Titus, it turns out, is an utterly unlikable pill of a human being who, despite his lack of redeeming qualities and a general attitude of entitled unpleasantness, finds a number of people more than willing to risk life, limb and livelihood to befriend, love and help him for no discernible reason. These encounters are monotonous in their unbelievable convenience for our despicable protagonist. Such a whiny, inconsiderate twit is Lord Titus that I found myself sorry that Steerpike failed to lay him low in their final encounter.
Many character quirks and and attitudes are rehashed from the first two novels in ways that are unsubtle to the point of distraction. There are also social/political statements attempted with such heavy handedness that I am forced to re-examine the earlier books with concern that what I'd taken for charming eccentricity is actually more of this lumbering attempt at poetical philosophy.
The book ends exactly where it begins, with Titus setting out from his home determined to never return, making the whole tortured journey (of the reader) doubly pointless and negating any possible catharsis. Read the first two books in the Gormenghast series. Pretend this one doesn't exist.
Many character quirks and and attitudes are rehashed from the first two novels in ways that are unsubtle to the point of distraction. There are also social/political statements attempted with such heavy handedness that I am forced to re-examine the earlier books with concern that what I'd taken for charming eccentricity is actually more of this lumbering attempt at poetical philosophy.
The book ends exactly where it begins, with Titus setting out from his home determined to never return, making the whole tortured journey (of the reader) doubly pointless and negating any possible catharsis. Read the first two books in the Gormenghast series. Pretend this one doesn't exist.
January 25, 2016
Like a child's toy viewfinder, the short chapters glimpse into a different kind of reality, away from Gormenghast, where kings and dungeons exist alongside skyscrapers and sports stadiums. Gormenghast doesn't seem so weird anymore. And is that a drone Peake is imagining in 1959?
The vast difference in quality between Gormenghast and Titus Alone is due to Peake's battle with dementia toward the end of his life. It's a sad impact to the quality of his work, but an excellent study in the difference between masterpiece writing and amateur writing (though there are a few passages in TA where Peake still kills it).
Also, I flipped between the very different editions of this, an early version of poor editorial judgement, and the more recent restitution by a close friend of Peake's. It seems the Juno thread and all references to science (Cheeta, the scientist's daughter) were edited out of the earlier version, along with some rather silly, unnecessary, even confusing dialogue.
The vast difference in quality between Gormenghast and Titus Alone is due to Peake's battle with dementia toward the end of his life. It's a sad impact to the quality of his work, but an excellent study in the difference between masterpiece writing and amateur writing (though there are a few passages in TA where Peake still kills it).
Also, I flipped between the very different editions of this, an early version of poor editorial judgement, and the more recent restitution by a close friend of Peake's. It seems the Juno thread and all references to science (Cheeta, the scientist's daughter) were edited out of the earlier version, along with some rather silly, unnecessary, even confusing dialogue.
May 21, 2022
I'm not going to sugarcoat it, it's a mess.
Utterly irredeemable? Probably not, but not worth a read in my opinion, unless you're deeply curious about what might have been a potential third novel and don't mind digging up a poor draft to get one. The book is impatient about revealing itself to you, and it comes across as jarring as a result.
Now, I get that the author was going through some serious struggles at the time of writing this, so I'm not going to pretend it only boils down to a miss. It's actually quite amazing how much Peake managed to do at this moment of his life. There are great images and some ideas here and there that do have potential, but very little of it actually goes somewhere. As I see it, this feels like a book of what-ifs rather than of genuine substance.
So, sorry, but I'll recommend skipping it.
P.S: I also wanted to say that Muzzlehatch is one of my least favorite characters in anything in a minute. What the hell was his deal...
Utterly irredeemable? Probably not, but not worth a read in my opinion, unless you're deeply curious about what might have been a potential third novel and don't mind digging up a poor draft to get one. The book is impatient about revealing itself to you, and it comes across as jarring as a result.
Now, I get that the author was going through some serious struggles at the time of writing this, so I'm not going to pretend it only boils down to a miss. It's actually quite amazing how much Peake managed to do at this moment of his life. There are great images and some ideas here and there that do have potential, but very little of it actually goes somewhere. As I see it, this feels like a book of what-ifs rather than of genuine substance.
So, sorry, but I'll recommend skipping it.
P.S: I also wanted to say that Muzzlehatch is one of my least favorite characters in anything in a minute. What the hell was his deal...
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