Syme Papers

by Benjamin Markovits

Douglas Pitt is a man obsessed. Laughed at, mocked, and dismissed at every turn, Pitt has spent the best part of an unremarkable academic career attempting to prove the genius of Samuel Highgate Syme (b. 1794, Baltimore; soldier, geologist, inventor). Pitt's postulation is simple that Syme, through some fault, wrong-doing, conspiracy or mischance, has not been credited with the recognition he deserves for hitting upon a key discovery in the advance of modern science - the theory of continental drift.
Lacking the crucial last piece of the puzzle to convince his peers and normalize his family life, Pitt finally stumbles into the good fortune he hopes will make his he uncovers a contemporary manuscript written by a fledgling German scientist, Friedrich Muller, which recounts a year (1826) in the company of the irrepressible Syme.
Switching between these beguiling and colourful narratives, The Syme Papers takes the reader on an odyssey into the heart of Maryland and Virginia in the 1820s by way of London and Texas today. An epic stew of intellectual procrastination, early nineteenth-century picaresque and late twentieth-century angst, it is a novel of genius and failure; of a man who thought he could prove the world was hollow, and in the glorious process of discovery, broke his own heart.

Genres: Fiction, Novels

495 pages, Hardcover

First published March 19, 2004

Reviews

[Robert Wechsler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Benjamin Markovits is brilliant and he doesn’t show off his brilliance quite like most young writers, although he certainly is a show off. This debut novel is an anthology of forms and voices, and Markovits makes the great majority of them work, even though he's tried the common form of historical figure being researched by a quirky young man of our own time. It’s a marvel. The form I liked the least was the faux 19th-century novel in the voice of a young German geologist who comes to America; so many writers do this that it came across as stale.

But alas, this novel has some negatives, the biggest of which is the small, light italics used for the German geologist’s journal, the most italics I’ve ever seen in a book. It undermined the reading experience for me. As did the fact that the novel went on too long; I found most of the last 100 pages flat and dull. But I recommend the first 400 pages of this singular debut.

Here's a taste of Markovits' prose:
"What struck me most forcefully, in the fields of Ruth's penmanship, was how much like fields they appeared: the grasses of her alphabet swaying in the soft breath of her eloquence, always forward, a little forward, as she thought of a new thing to write. Trees and hedgerows grew where a date stood out; names occasionally appeared in capitals, alongside the titles of plays attended, and, as we soon discovered, performed. Little hills rose when she was drunk, I believe; large letters gave scope to her wandering hand, to slip and find its course after all, and a few lines filled the page, and comforted her with the thought that a day had not passed by unreflected upon."

[Commander Law · Rating 1 out of 5]

Had to give up on this rather wordy tome.

[Highlyeccentric · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was an infuriating book. I wanted to sympathise with the protagonist, a strugging historian with writers' block on a collision course with academic failure. But I couldn't, because he was a dick and he deserved to fail and his wife should've bloody well left him years ago.

So I kept reading for the alt-history which Our Protagonist was researching. Markovits has invented, and inserted into the history of geological research, a character named Sam Syme, a university dropout who may have come up with - embedded in a completely mad scheme of a hollow earth - the idea of continental drift. Markovits' work here, retelling the history of "geognosy" and weaving his character into it, is fascinating. And I really fell for it when another character, a German aristocrat with some background in geology sent by his father to investigate the prospect of funding this mad Syme creature, showed up. Muller I loved: a dandy, a loner, strangely in love with Syme but nevertheless unconvinced by his theories. So I kept reading for Muller, in the hope that Muller might achieve some kind of interesting character development. And he did, to some degree, but he never told Syme that Syme was a dick and also completely bonkers about geology. That was aggravating.

By the end of it, ALL the characters, including the historian's wife and Muller and EVERYONE annoyed me.

[Cliff · Rating 3 out of 5]

It is difficult to know what to write about these 591 pages of closely set 10 point. It tells of a history researcher researching the papers of the title in the hope that it will make his academic name and enable him to obtain tenure. Half of the book is taken up with a journal he discovers written by a German associate of the said Syme - all set in italics. I'm not sure whether the book is meant as a comment on the narrowness of much academic research when something not researched by another has to be found. Or is it a reflection of how scientific knowledge changes. Syme's belief that the earth is constructed of a number of nested concentric spheres separated by 'fluvia' wouldn't get room today on the most outlandish web forum. Or is it a homosexual love story? The 19th century manuscript implies this but skates round the subject, the author of the book catching the tone of such extremely well. I'm not sure if I really enjoyed the book - but I felt it deserved being read to the end, despite wanting to throw the towel in on several occasions!

[Annji · Rating 3 out of 5]

Liked it but at times it felt disingenuous. "Don't try so hard to be clever!" was shouted at this book on several occasions.

[Roswitha Muntiyarso]

Just got this book from some bargain bookstore near British Museum. Need something to accompany me to wake up while stay up whole night in Heathrow airport for the morning flight to Istanbul :D