In the course of this random research, I came across a reference to a Poe story called The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, which wasn’t included in the collected works I’d bought. What caught my attention were comments I unearthed from the archives of Cornell University: The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe; with a Memoir by Rufus Wilmot Griswold, and Notices of His Life and Genius by N. P. Willis and J. R Lowell, 4 vols. (New York: Redfield, 1856). On page 434 of one of these volumes (alas, I know not which), either Mr. Griswold, N. P. Willis, or J. R. Lowell wrote the following: “Had this ‘Narrative’ been brought to a conclusion satisfactory, or even plausible, ‘Arthur Gordon Pym’ would have been the most perfect specimen of [Poe’s] imaginative and constructive powers.”
Well, that was curious.
Fifty key strokes later, I found the lengthy story online and reproduced as much of it as printer paper would allow. I’d read no more than a few paragraphs when I found myself transfixed. The prose was clear and accessible, with nary a!!! in sight. But what intrigued me was the challenge Poe had set for himself. The Narrative… purports to be an account of an extraordinary (and entirely invented) journey across the Antarctic Ocean, as told by one Arthur Gordon Pym at a gentlemen’s club in Richmond, Virginia, in the latter months of 1836. Those who hear of his remarkable adventures urge Pym to make the matter public. Pym declines, explaining that he kept no written journal during this protracted period and that he questions his ability to write, “from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess.” The incidents, he says, are of a nature so marvelous that he doubts the public would regard his comments as anything other than “an impudent and ingenious fiction.”
As luck would have it, among those present at the gathering is our very own Edgar Allan Poe, lately editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, who strongly advises Pym to prepare a thorough rendering of the affair and who further proposes to publish this chronicle in the Southern Literary Messenger as a work of fiction under his (Poe’s) name. This ruse, says Poe, will allow Pym to fully air his tale without inciting the public’s incredulity.
In January and February 1837, twenty-five chapters of this narrative appear in the Messenger, meticulously detailing a voyage to the South Pacific, which results in the alleged discovery of a new land, complete with the specifics of climate, atmosphere, water, novel plants, and strange animals, capped by a description of the inhabitants, who differ from all other races of men.
The response is unexpected.
As convincing as the author (Poe) has hoped to be in persuading the public that the tale is mere fable, letters are sent to Mr. Poe’s address “distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary.” Far from viewing these exploits as fiction, the public believes them to be true. Edgar Allan Poe is forced to confess that the tale is not his, but is an unexpurgated and completely factual account of actual events that happened to Arthur Gordon Pym. Arthur Gordon Pym, in turn, is finally convinced to step forward and acknowledge the reportage as his own. He then proceeds to dictate his experiences in such an authoritative tone that the whole of it is accepted as gospel. So much so that a publishing house in London commences arrangements to reprint the work as a bona fide history.
Having established this dazzling turnabout premise, Poe now faces the tricky issue of how to bring the tale to a conclusion without leaving himself open to the very scientific scrutiny he’s hoping to avoid. In order to sustain the authenticity of his deception-posing as Pym and limning a supposed fiction whose outing as truth motivates Pym to affirm his role as author and participant (whew!!)-Poe must find a means of completing the yarn without tipping his hand.
For a few moments, I put myself in Poe’s shoes and pondered the possibilities. My temptation would have been to chuck the whole scheme as a rebellion of plot and character now desperately in need of quashing.
His solution was to make the following announcement:
The circumstances connected with the late sudden and distressing death of Mr. Pym are already well known to the public through the medium of the daily press. It is feared that the few remaining chapters which were to have completed his narrative, and which were retained by him… for the purpose of revision, have been irrecoverably lost through the accident by which he perished himself. This, however, may prove not to be the case, and the papers, if ultimately found, will be given to the public. The loss of two or three final chapters… is the more deeply to be regretted, as it can not be doubted they contained matter relative to the Pole itself, or at least to regions in its very near proximity; and as, too, the statements of the author in relation to these regions may shortly be verified or contradicted by means of the governmental expedition now preparing for the Southern Ocean.
In support of this, Poe attaches a number of footnotes in which he clarifies and annotates the veracity of Pym’s assertions in all of their particulars.
The elaborate and ingenious conceit of this story (which is, by the way, executed with unfaltering confidence) was finally sufficient to arouse my admiration and elevate my prior opinion of Edgar Allan Poe… at least in terms of this one stunning testimonial to his skills. I’m delighted to recommend The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket as exemplary of Poe’s powers of invention. I do this with a clear conscience and in sincere support of this anthology honoring his work. Personal integrity aside, there is one more important point to be made: now Michael Connelly owes me.
Sue Grafton entered the mystery field in 1982 with the publication of “A” Is for Alibi, which introduced female hard-boiled private investigator Kinsey Millhone, who operates out of the fictional town of Santa Teresa (a.k.a. Santa Barbara), California. “B” Is for Burglar followed in 1985, and since then she has added eighteen novels to the series now referred to as “the alphabet mysteries.” At the rate she’s going, she’ll reach “Z” Is for Zero in the year 2020, give or take a decade. She will be much much older than she is now.
About the Editor
MICHAEL CONNELLY is one of the most prolific and bestselling writers of suspense at work today. He lives with his family in Florida.
www.mysterywriters.org
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Credits
Designed by Jennifer Ann Daddio / Bookmark Design & Media Inc. Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover illustration created from photograph by Stan Osolinski/Oxford Scientific/Jupiterimages
Interior images from Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allan Poe, illustrated by Harry Clarke. London: Harrap, 1919. Images obtained from the Rare Book Department, the Free Library of Philadelphia. Reproduction by Will Brown, Will Brown Photographer.
Copyright Information
“About Edgar Allan Poe,” copyright © 2009 by Mystery Writers of America, Inc.
“About the Mystery Writers of America’s Edgar Award,” copyright © 2009 by Mystery Writers of America, Inc.
“About the Illustrator,” copyright © 2009 by Mystery Writers of America, Inc.
“What Poe Hath Wrought,” copyright © 2009 by Michael Connelly.