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GORMENGHAST

Peake was a writer, illustrator - he illustrated 'Alice in Wonderland' -
and sculptor. His style is poetic and long. The best description I could
give of his style: he paints and sculpts with words. A good example is
found right in the beginning of the first book. Flay, first servant of the
Earl, brings the news of a new born Lord to Rottcodd, a hermit who has
withdrawn in the Hall of Bright Carvings and whose job it is to keep the
carvings clear of dust:

"Gripping his feather duster in his right hand, Rottcodd began to advance
down the bright avenue, his feet giving rise at each step to little clouds
of dust. When he had at last reached the door the handle had ceased to
vibrate. Lowering himself suddenly to his knees he placed his right eye at
the keyhole, and controlling the oscillation of his head and the vagaries
of his left eye (which was for ever trying to dash up and down the vertical
surface of the door), he was able by dint of concentration to observe,
within three inches of his keyholed eye, an eye which was not his, being
not only a different colour to his own iron marble but being, which is more
convincing, on the other side of the door. This third eye which was going
through the same performance as the one belonging to Rottcodd, belonged to Flay, the taciturn servant of Sepulchrave, Earl of Gormenghast."

When Peake died in 1968 he was 57 years old.

The Gormenghast Trilogy is his biggest piece of work. The trilogy consists
of three novels: 'Titus Groan' (1946), 'Gormenghast' (1950) and 'Titus
Alone' (1959).

Gormenghast is the name of the immens and vast crumbling castle, somewhere between mountains and close to a lake. It's being described in the first paragraph of 'Titus Groan':

"Gormenghast, that is, the main massing of original stone, taken by itself
would have displayed a certain ponderous architectural quality were it
possible to have ignored the circumfusion of those mean dwellings that
swarmed like an epidemic around its outer walls. They sprawled over the
sloping earth, each one half way over its neighbor until, held back by the
castle ramparts, the innermost of these hovels laid hold on the great
walls, clamping themselves thereto like limpets of a rock. These dwellings,
by ancient law, were granted the chill intimacy with the stronghold that
loomed above them. Over their irregular roofs would fall throughout the
seasons, the shadows of time-eaten buttresses, of broken en lofty turrets,
and enormous of all, the shadow of the Tower of Flints. This tower, patched unevenly with black ivy, arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heaven. At night the owls made of it an echoing throat; by day it stood voiceless and cast its long shadow."

The castle is inhabited by all sorts of strange, weird characters, who are
a little humorous as well. It reminds me of Dickens' characters. There is,
for instance, Lady Gertrude, wife of Sepulchrave, the 76th Earl of Groan.
She is huge, and in her hair are bird's nests, in which birds brood. She is
very fond of her enormous amount of white cats, who follow her around
through the castle like a massive and alive white carpet. There's Fuchsia,
daughter of Sepulchrave and Gertrude, a hysterical and unpredictable
teenager, who fills up her need of love in the cold and loveless
environment of the castle with almost strangling her nanny with her hugs.
And there are many more.

The ancient rituals within the castle are bizarre. An example of this:
every day Sourdust, the librarian and keeper of rituals, has breakfast with
Sepulchrave to go through all the rituals that have to be performed that day:

"The left hand pages were headed with the date and in the first of the
three books this was followed by a list of activities to be performed hour
by hour during the day by his lordship. The exact times; the garments to be
worn for each occasion and the symbolic gestures to be used. Diagrams
facing the left hand page gave particulars of the routes by which his
lordship should approach the various scenes of operation. The diagrams were hand tinted.

The second tome was full of blank pages and was entirely symbolic, while
the third was amass of cross references. If, for instance, his lordship,
Sepulchrave, the present Earl of Groan, had been three inches shorter, the
costumes, gestures and even the routes would have differed from the ones
described in the first tome, and from the enormous library, another volume
would have had to have been chosen which would have applied. Had he been of a fair skin, or had he been heavier than he was, had his eyes been green, blue or brown instead of black, then, automatically another set of archaic regulations would have appeared this morning on the breakfast table."

And of course there's a villain: Steerpike. An evil and cold boy, who, by
chance, got the opportunity to better his social position in the hierarchy
of the castle. Through deceit, lies, intrigue and eventually even murder he
works his way up; the castle, in which change is almost a deadly sin, goes
through a revolution.

Some of the scenes are exciting, and remind me of those old Vincent Price
horror movies. For instance the fight between the arch enemies Swelter, the
chef of Gormenghast kitchen, and Flay, the first servant of Sepulcharve.
Flay always sleeps right in front of the bedroom of his master, and Swelter
plans to murder Flay in his sleep. Flay knows about Swelter's plans and in
that night - there's a heavy storm outside -, he hides in the dark, to
ambush Swelter. Swelter has slashed at Flay, and he then realizes Flay is
not there, and he has missed:

"For a short while he stood fingering his misused weapon, and during this
space Mr Flay had conceived and acted, moving a few yards further down the corridor where an even more favourable ambush presented itself in the shape of a sagging tapestry. As he moved out into the darkness, for he was beyond the orbit of the candles' influence, the lightning struck again and flared bluishly through the broken window so that at one and the same moment both Swelter and Flay caught sight of one another. The bluish light had flattened them out like cardboard figures which had, in the case of the
chef, an extraordinary effect."

The trilogy is definitely one of my favorites.