Literary Obscurists Debate: The Case for Edward Gorey
Edward St. John Gorey, celebrated American artist of the nebulous and comedically macabre — born 22 Feburary 1925, died 15 April 2000 — presents a serious dilemma for the student of the Literary Obscurist school. Gorey’s gift was a penchant for Gothic tableaux and ambiguous (or not-so-ambiguous) peril.
His characters are exquisitely detailed, garbed in the claustrophobic trappings of Victorian embellishment, their staring eyes exuding at times innocence, ignorance, suspicion, or remorse. At Gorey’s hands they usually encounter peculiar circumstances, discover only partial explanations, before inevitably meeting imaginative deaths. His protagonists wander in step with the funereal prose, seemingly lost in the infinitely haunting dream of everyday life.
Yes, Gorey’s style struck a dark nerve within in the collective unconscious. But was he a Literary Obscurist? Should such a well-known and beloved name be counted among the unsung echelons? In what could be the defining debate of our genre, two camps have emerged; the For-Goreys and the Anti-Goreys.
It is, perhaps, instructive at this point to re-examine the three definitive hallmarks of Literary Obscurity;
I. Inspired fiction of an arcane subject matter and/or oblique, even perplexing writing style.
II. A limited publication and readership of the literary work.
III. The author glories in obscurity (but not anonymity), seeking neither fame nor infamy.
From these simple guidelines has issued the chaotic gush of interpretation, argument, and confabulation that literary theorists drum up so well, but as Rudy Warwick of the Pale Lighthouse rightly reminds us, we must not let the spirit of the subject matter cloud our studies, but explore those literary abysses with clarity of mind and simplicity of doctrine.
The For-Goreys have a strong case. Regarding the first point, writing style, there is no argument. The quality of his fiction is perfectly suitable for (in fact, some argue, an exemplar of) the LO genre. That is not in question. But a sample of his prose is nonetheless obliged:
The first draft of TUH is more than half finished, and for some weeks its characters have been assuming a fitful and cloudy reality. Now a minor one named Glassglue has materialized at the head of the stairs as his creator is about to go down to dinner. Mr Earbrass was aware of the peculiarly unpleasant nubs on his greatcoat, but not the blue-tinted spectacles. Glassglue is about to mutter something in a tone too low to be caught and, stepping sideways, vanish.
— The Unstrung Harp, Or, Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel (1)
Next, then, is publication and distribution. The above-quoted novel was Gorey’s first, properly attributed to him and published through Duell, Sloan, and Pearce in 1953. Five more titles followed skipping between various publishers, until The Beastly Baby (1962) was roundly rejected by all, spurring him to found his own personal press. (2) The imprint, Fantod Press, became his secure vehicle for publication, freeing him to print what he wanted under any of several pen names, many of them anagrams of his own. The first edition of The Beastly Baby by Ogdred Weary had a run of 500 copies, one of which now goes for the price of $1,750. (3) His Fantod books were sold primarily through his preferred Manhattan bookshop, the Gotham Book Mart. While his works have been collected and republished under the Amphigorey series since 1972, Gorey disliked the omnibus editions. His works were meant to be read as he had published them, one page at a time (the coffee-table tome proportions of the Amphigories shows four pages per leaf) and intact with opening dedications. Many of the original books embodied his surrealist flair, some containing no words, or being the size of a matchbook. One collector of Gorey’s works, Andrew Alpern, donated over seven hundred titles and items of Gorey paraphernalia to Columbia University, now preserved in the Rare Book and Manuscript Library.
Finally, examining the ethos of the author himself. Gorey rarely explained his work to others. When pressed, he characterized his art training as “negligible,” his prose as literary nonsense, and his philosophy as ‘perhaps surrealist.’ (4) He is quoted as saying that “Ideally, if anything were any good, it would be indescribable.” (5) His life was not the traditional recluse’s; evenings often saw him heading out for a ballet, play, or film. Yet he only left the United States twice, to visit Cuba and the outer Hebrides, both in the 1970s. From 1986 until his death, he resided in his Cape Cod home, frequenting the same neighborhood diner for many of his meals. He volunteered at his local cable access TV station, Yarmouth Channel 18, often working as camera operator. While he earned many awards, they were almost all for his work as an illustrator, leaving his prose largely unrecognized, and his Bram Stoker Lifetime Achievement Award was given posthumously.
Writing under aliases, especially anagrams of the authors name, has long been regarded as an obscurist tradition. The encrypted name is ideal for evading recognition, yet refusing anonymity. Gorey’s cryptic nome de plumes include: Ogded Weary (The Beastly Baby, The Curious Sofa), Mrs. Regera Dowdy (The Pious Infant, The Rivulets of Gore, Nets to Subdue the Deranged), Dewda Yorger (The Dreary Rwedgo Series for Intrepid Young Ladies), and Garrod Weedy (The Pointless Book). His German pseudonym was Eduard Blutig, many of whose works were translated to English by Mrs. Regera Dowdy and illustrated by O. Müde (all Gorey himself). He even wrote a never-produced screenplay for a silent film. In the 1970s.
So, are these the characteristics of an author seeking fame and recognition?
Thankfully, say the Anti-Goreys, there’s no need to debate whether Gorey enjoyed literary prestige — too many readers clearly enjoy his work to pass the second rule. It’s easy to cast Gorey as an eccentric who’s known mostly for the grim whimsy of his drawings. But the fact is, his writings have followed the cartoons into the land perpetually forbidden to Literary Obscurists; popular culture. Edward Gorey is a household name; the annual Edwardian Ball in San Francisco isn’t referring to Edward VIII. There’s Edward Gorey merchandise. True, these stocking stuffers are based primarily on his eccentric art — but it’s caused his literary work to be, well, too accessible to qualify as obscure. According to Amazon.com, at the time of this writing, the Gashleycrumb Tinies ranks at 11,793 on the bestseller list. Not an impressive spot on its face, but that’s out of an inventory of over 43 million titles. While it’s open for debate as to what ranking is exactly low enough for our rarefied taste, one thing is clear; the top 0.002% of titles is decidedly too mainstream.
The final nail in the scrollwork coffin; Gorey, in his own words (6):
“I have my fantasies of worldwide fame, you know, but they’re totally absurd. More and more, I think you should have no expectations and do everything for its own sake. That way you won’t be hit in the head quite so frequently.”
Wise words from someone who, like most, would clearly enjoy celebrity status but fears the sting of failure and disappointment. True obscurists fear no such things. Gorey’s ‘hit in the head’ is the height of Literary Obscurist bliss.
The final analysis, then? Edward Gorey may have been a Literary Obscurist at one point — during his early work in the 1950s and 60s — but pop culture adoption and an enduring popularity of his works, together with an admitted enjoyment of fame, render him unqualified.
But hear me out, Edward! Before your ghost starts haunting me through unused rooms and derelict halls, muttering recriminations I can’t quite hear, consider that you were probably much happier doing your own thing and being appreciated in your time.
— Scott
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Gorey, Edward. The Unstrung Harp, Or, Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel. Duell, Sloan, and Pearce, 1953. New York, NY.
- F is for Fantod, The Edward Gorey House, www.edwardgoreyhouse.org (December 19, 2017)
- The Beastly Baby, Bromer Booksellers, https://www.bromer.com/pages/books/26564/edward-gorey/the-beastly-baby-by-ogdred-weary (December 19, 2017)
- Schiff, Stephen. “Edward Gorey and the Tao of Nonsense.” The New Yorker, November 9, 1992: 84–94, p. 89.
- Dyer, Richard. “Poison Penman.” Interview, The Boston Globe Magazine, April 1, 1984: p. 30.
- Gorey, Edward. Ascending Peculiarity: Edward Gorey on Edward Gorey. Edited by Karen Wilkin. Harcourt, 2001. p. 143
