Weiland; or, The Transformation.

Carwin #1

by Charles Brockden Brown

Excerpt from Wieland or the Transformation
Genius and knowledge command respect; but superior genius and profound knowledge, combined with exalted moral purity, cannot fail to excite unmingled admiration. The reputation of an author in whom these qualities are united may be circumscribed during life; but its rise and extension after death prove that his claims to distinction are well founded. It is no less the duty than the pleasure of friendship to fortify and sustain these claims. The impartiality of criticism cannot but confirm the anticipations of affection.
Charles Brockden Brown was the highly-gifted descendant of ancestors originally English, who came over to this country with the wise and benevolent Penn, and landed from the same ship on the banks of the Delaware. Their principles, moral, religious, and political, coincided with those of their pious and illustrious leader.
He derived the additional name of Brockden from his uncle Charles Brockden, so respectfully mentioned by Franklin in his life, who, to avoid the vengeance of conspirators, whose secret conversations he had accidentally overheard, fled to America and settled in Pennsylvania, where his industry and abilities finally raised him to an important office, which he filled with distinguished reputation.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, Horror, Gothic, 18th Century, Mystery, Literature

Hardcover

First published January 1, 1798

About the author

Charles Brockden Brown (January 17, 1771 – February 22, 1810), an American novelist, historian, and editor of the Early National period, is generally regarded by scholars as the most ambitious and accomplished US novelist before James Fenimore Cooper. He is the most frequently studied and republished practitioner of the "early American novel," or the US novel between 1789 and roughly 1820. Although Brown was by no means the first American novelist, as some early criticism claimed, the breadth and complexity of his achievement as a writer in multiple genres (novels, short stories, essays and periodical writings of every sort, poetry, historiography, reviews) makes him a crucial figure in US literature and culture of the 1790s and first decade of the 19th century, and a significant public intellectual in the wider Atlantic print culture and public sphere of the era of the French Revolution.

Reviews

[Bill Kerwin · Rating 3 out of 5]

How do you judge a writer who has a spark of genius but almost no talent or skill? That's my dilemma with Charles Brockden Brown.

First the genius part. Brown is credited--fairly I think--with being the United States' first professional novelist, and it is remarkable how many important American themes are first brought forth here. A phrase of W.C.Williams--”the pure products of America go crazy”--continually occurred to me during my reading, and this is just what Brown has given us here: gothic imagery transferred to the shadowy borders of American civilization; a God-ridden patriarch, gripped by an obscure cult, who comes to America as a missionary to the Indians, guiltily remains as a successful entrepreneur, and dies alone in his private temple, consumed by a mysterious conflagration; and his haunted family, striving to live a life informed by the best European cultural traditions, who succumb to madness and murder when night voices whisper of blood and duty in the lonely Pennsylvania countryside. Hawthorne, Faulkner, Flannery O'Connor, the spark is here . . . fifty years before “Scarlet Letter.”

Cults, religious obsession, spontaneous combustion, madness, family murder, and a sinister ventriloquist thrown in for good measure. Sounds interesting, right? Well, don't get your hopes up. Brown's prose style is so poor--imprecise diction, lack of sentence variety--and his structural sense is so flawed--unjustified shifts in narrative focus, overly elaborate and implausible explanations of earlier improbable conduct--that reading this novel is frustrating. The last third of the book is concentrated in tone, possessing considerable power, but the work as a whole is poorly executed and unsatisfying.

[Oscar · Rating 4 out of 5]

Resulta curioso que la primera novela norteamericana, se encuadre dentro del gótico americano, y además pertenezca a la corriente del Psycho Killer, la literatura de psicópatas, que ha llegado hasta nuestros días. Escrita en 1798, ‘Wieland, o la Transformación’ (Wieland; or, The Transformation), está escrita por Charles Brockden Brown, considerado el primer escritor profesional americano, y fue la precursora de una corriente que va a llevar a Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe, Henry James, y todo lo que vino después, con Stephen King, Thomas Ligotti, etc.

En ‘Wieland’, nos encontramos fanatismo religioso, la América puritana, la psique escindida, el oír voces que impulsan a matar, el germen de todo eso que posteriormente nos vamos a encontrar en tantas novelas y películas. Frente al gótico europeo, el gótico americano cambia de escenario: pasamos del castillo y la abadía, a las mansiones y los caserones, que marcarán a tantos escritores posteriormente. ‘Wieland’ es la raíz hacia un contexto diferente al que se había conocido hasta ese momento. Un fanatismo religioso que desemboca en crimen, en masacre; el psicópata que actúa en función de unas voces que se lo ordenan.

La historia está contada por Clara Wieland de forma epistolar y, si bien tiene un comienzo algo lento, narrando los orígenes de la familia Wieland, más adelante tienen lugar una serie de sucesos extraños y misteriosos que alterarán la vida de Clara y sus allegados de forma terrible.

El libro se cierra con un relato, ‘Memorias de Carwin, el Biloquista’, que sirve al lector para completar lo leído en ‘Wieland’.

En resumen, se trata de un gran novela, excelentemente escrita (o traducida).

[J · Rating 3 out of 5]

Poor Charles Brockden Brown. While no one would mistake him for a great, forgotten writer, his kooky, early American Gothic style still has its charms, if for no other reason than the completely ape-shit plot devices that he works with. Spontaneous Combustion! Ventriloquism! Religious Fanaticism! Insanity! I feel like a contemporary writer could come along and turn these ideas into a really killer, sprawling sort of book, like Pynchon or Wallace or someone like that. Obviously it's not fair to compare someone writing in the 1790's to someone writing in the second half of the 20th century, but Brown seems interested in just stringing together as many weird tropes as he can in 200 pages. I don't think that makes for a good novel now, and evidently it didn't make for a good enough one then to save him from relative obscurity. Still, it's nice to read something by an early American that's more darkly psychological than the bland world of James Fenimore Cooper et al. If you're just foaming at the mouth to read some early American Lit, go for it.

[Julio Bernad · Rating 4 out of 5]

Podéis escuchar una reseña dedicada a esta novela en el primer programa del podcast ¡Silba y Acudiremos! Frenesí Romántico: https://go.ivoox.com/rf/133799379

La novelística estadounidense nace con Wieland y Charles Brockden Brown. He ahí donde reside su mérito y trascendencia histórica, no tanto en su calidad como en su condición de pionero. Brockden Brown, que como buen romántico murió joven, escribió toda su obra en un corto periodo de intensa actividad literaria, dejando el terreno convenientemente abonado para narradores más capacitados. Con esto quiero decir que, en efecto, Wieland no es un novelón, y que si ha quedado en la historia es por razones coyunturales antes que literarias. Pero, como toda obra irregular, hay elementos que la hacen destacar y que sería un error desdeñarlos. Wieland, o la transformación, tenía los mimbres para convertirse en una gran novela gótica y un clásico por derecho propio, pero la bisoñez e impericia de su autor la convirtieron en una curiosidad interesante de leer.

Contada en forma de declaración, Clara Wieland nos cuenta la historia de su familia, la llegada a las colonias inglesas norteamericanas de su padre, un fanático religioso que se propuso evangelizar en una nueva y renovada fe arriana al pueblo puritano pero que, debido a las vicisitudes propias de una vida dedicado al sector agrícola y la familia, postergo hasta casi olvidarlas. Sin embargo, un suceso extraordinario puso fin a la vida de su padre, al que poco después siguió en la muerte su esposa, y dejó huérfanos a clara y su hermano, Wieland, que heredó el interés religioso de su padre. La segunda parte de la declaración da un salto en el tiempo y sigue la vida de ambos hermanos, de como Wieland se casó y formó una familia, sin abandonar su inquietud religiosa y los clásicos romanos, y su amistad con Pleyel, un sajón emigrado que dará color a sus vidas gracias a su talante afable y vitalismo. Sin embargo, la vida de los hermanos y su fiel amigo pronto será sacudida debido a una serie de sucesos inexplicables protagonizados por unas voces desconocidas que les alertan de peligros inminentes o les amenazan. A estas voces, que podrían pasar por una anécdota curiosa con la que salpimentar algunas reuniones sociales, pronto se suma la aparición de un misterioso personaje: Cadwin. Y aquí es cuando a la novela se le va la cabeza.

Como os habréis percatado, la sinopsis que he hecho no desvela mucho, mejor dicho, no revela nada. Pero claro, es que el conflicto de la historia comienza en la página 130, pasada ya la mitad del libro. Además, la naturaleza de la novela gótica obliga al reseñista a ser cauto, pues además de seguir unas directrices bastante restrictivas tiene por característica principal el ser sorprendente en todo momento. La novela gótica canónica siempre suele tener por protagonista a una heroína femenina acosada y a merced de un familiar malvado, por lo general un tío, de intenciones perversas y lúbricas, así como la existencia de un mal atávico enquistado en la familia, una suerte de maldición genética que puede expresarse, y se expresará, en los últimos representantes de la estirpe familiar; el escenario suele ser un castillo decadente en el que ocurren sucesos extraordinarios e inexplicables que, ojo, aunque se presenten como sobrenaturales en realidad tienen una causa artificial perfectamente explicable. En resumen, la novela gótica es como un capitulo especialmente sórdido de Scooby Doo, pero con más volantes en los vestidos y personajes hipersensibles con las emociones a flor de piel.

Pero Brockden Brown da un giro sorprendente a este modelo establecido. Para empezar, su historia no ocurre en un castillo, sino en una hacienda o cottage, y el villano de la historia es indistinguible de un psycho-killer movido por motivos religiosos. En este punto, Wieland es una obra pionera, y no es extraño que influyera a espíritus tan propensos a lo escabroso como Edgar Allan Poe. Porque en Wieland lo sublime se troca en terrorífico y la fe desbocada en el catalizador homicida. No es raro que fuera un norteamericano el pionero en esta clase de historias, pues ya decía John Connolly que Estados Unidos siempre ha sido un terreno fértil para las sectas religiosas, y el tiempo no ha hecho sino darle la razón a Brockden Brown -ahí está el ejemplo de los davidianos, por ejemplo. Sin embargo, quizá sea el contraste entre este elemento tan moderno y las afectadas maneras dieciochescas de trabajar la historia y los personajes hagan que esto último queda aún más anticuado.

Sería injusto juzgar negativamente a una novela gótica por ser afectada y ridícula, porque todas son así, desde Otranto hasta el Melmoth todos los personajes hablan como si estuvieran frente al senado romano al completo y por la facilidad para el desmayo y enfermar de fiebres cerebrales por una fuerte impresión; impresión esta que puede ser causada por frivolidades tales como un desengaño amoroso, un equívoco o un susto en el porche. Tampoco podemos juzgar con dureza la imbecilidad de su protagonista, aunque el autor se esfuerce lo indecible por recordarnos, por boca de terceros, la agudeza mental y sutil inteligencia de su protagonista. De hecho, esto último también sería en parte vanguardista, porque, ¿qué protagonista de slasher no se comporta como un autentico descerebrado?

Criticar una novela gótica señalando sus excesos es, insisto, un desacierto. Lo que sí podemos es criticar el espantoso ritmo que arrastra la novela, pues la primera mitad de la misma es casi infumable y, para colmo, apenas parece estar conectado con los sucesos que se nos narraran en la segunda, divertidísima, delirante y trepidante. Brockden Brown podía haberse ahorrado perfectamente la historia del padre y haber comenzado con la vida de los hijos, o si acaso haber reducido la semblanza paterna a un capitulo a modo de contexto. Los personajes secundarios de la historia aparecen como quien no quiere la cosa y no aportan mucho más que sus nombres. Los únicos que de verdad importan son el tío de los hermanos, que aparece in extremis al final de la novela, y Cadwin, el mejor personaje de la historia y el que se roba la novela para sí. Y es que menudo elemento está hecho este Cadwin.

Y se ve que este personaje también debía de ser el favorito del autor, pues junto con la novela este libro recoge una historia a modo de precuela que aporta contexto del mentado sujeto, el descubrimiento de su peculiar talento, cómo llego a Norteamérica y en qué circunstancias. Un añadido simpático que provoca más preguntas que respuestas.

Wieland o la transformación es una obra irregular, y como tal contiene una parte de genio y otra de desastre. Haríamos muy mal en ignorar los talentos de Brockden Brown tanto como excusar sus muchos defectos como escritor. Esta es una novela para amantes de la novela gótica, y necesita de un lector condescendiente que sepa lo que tiene entre manos para sacarle todo el jugo. Aún así, la segunda parte de la novela es una locura divertidísima, en serio.

[Tristram Shandy · Rating 2 out of 5]

“The Narrative Was by No Means Recommended by Its Eloquence […]“

Thus speaks the first person narrator, Clara Wieland, in Charles Brockden Brown’s novel Wieland about a manuscript in which her deceased father gives an account of his life and experiences, and, ironically, or sadly, this much can also be said for the novel itself in that Charles Brockden Brown, though he may be the first American novelist, simply cannot write. At first, I thought the strangely staccato syntax and the lack of fluency in the discourse was due to the first person view of Clara Wieland, who is under extreme emotional and mental stress from all those terrible things happening in her family, but it soon became clear that it is the genuine style of Brown himself for the elaborate and mazy passages of introspection are written in the same clumsy vein.

Examples, anyone? Now, imagine a young woman, who has been driven from her solitary house by a stranger coming from her closet with the intention of raping her, and who, some time afterwards, is lured back there, in the middle of the night, because she wants to retrieve a private journal. Let’s just assume that is a realistic motive for somebody to go alone to a place where they have undergone a traumatic experience and where there might still be some real threat of danger. And let’s also just assume that the idea of going there by daylight and accompanied by servants and one or two war-elephants would not occur to her although the other characters mark her out as a beacon of intelligence. Now, once inside her house, that woman for some reason feels compelled to open the closet out of curiosity but at the same time she has a stark hunch of something terrible and dangerous being inside. One could describe this situation like this,

“Should I really yield to my perverse curiosity and open the closet, for all that had happened some nights before? Or should I not rather give in to my fear and flee that lonely place?”

One might still embellish this by two or three metaphors and throw in some adjectives if one gets paid per line, but this is what Brown makes of the scene:

“The closet was near, and I remembered the complicated horrors of which it had been productive. Here, perhaps, was inclosed the source of my peril, and the gratification of my curiosity. Should I adventure once more to explore its recesses? This was a resolution not easily formed.”

Cringeworthy, isn’t it? Be a duck, dear, and explore the recesses of the cupboard in order thereby and thereafter to hand me the salt! It goes on it that style all the time, and never have 200 pages been productive of so complicated syntactic and stylistic horrors for me! In Brown’s world you don’t say “my uncle, who was a surgeon” but “my mother’s brother, whose profession was that of a surgeon”, and you don’t say “I was so confused that I forgot to knock before entering” but you extend the whole thing over three sentences, such as “In my confusion of mind, I neglected to knock at the door, but entered his apartment without previous notice. This abruptness was altogether involuntary. Absorbed in reflections of such unspeakable moment, I had no leisure to heed the niceties of punctilio.” But then Brown’s world is an altogether strange one, a world in which grown children think nothing of making the place in which their father died a violent and uncanny death their number one leisure haunt.

I did not know it was possible but I have finally spotted a writer whose style is as needlessly wordy and still triter, whose tendency towards rambling and banal introspection is even more exasperating than Wilkie Collins’s, whose writings I have always considered to be the most gruesome test patience can find itself put to. Charles Brockden Brown! thou openedst mine eyes! By the way, whenever Brown’s characters find themselves in a situation of danger or suspense, they have recourse to thou and thee, whereas at other times they speak like perfectly normal people, with a lot of time at their hands, though.

And yet, Wieland is not wholly devoid of merit, because after all the story was interesting enough to keep me engaged, and the topic – religious fanaticism with the most disastrous consequences imaginable brought about by more or less innocent manipulation – shows that Brown had a keen eye for the human psyche. I kept asking myself what a master like Nathaniel Hawthorne or Edgar Allan Poe would have made of the whole thing, and then I thought that Brown should not be run down too much: For a start I like pronouncing his name, and then he might probably have influenced Hawthorne, who would also repeatedly revert to the topic of religious fanaticism, but in a much more enjoyable style.

[Dfordoom · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wieland, or, The Transformation, An American Tale is a remarkable book for a number of reasons. American literature scarcely existed in the late 18th century when Charles Brockden Brown made the bold decision to pursue a literary career. Wieland, published in 1798, is a gothic novel, but it’s more than that. It’s a complete re-invention of the gothic novel, with the accepted trappings of mouldering castles and doomed aristocratic heroes being discarded entirely. It’s the beginning of American gothic, and it’ an astonishingly accomplished beginning.

Brown focuses on psychology, and the novel is also a very early example of the psychological thriller. Wieland lives on what seems to be a fairly isolated estate on the Schuylkill River, with his wife and children and his sister Clara (who narrates the tale). His grandfather had succumbed to religious mania and had established what was to all intents and purposes a one-man cult, and had died in mysterious circumstances. Wieland has inherited his religious disposition and his tendency towards melancholy and a gloomy sense of duty. The little colony is complete by his young ward, and by a much more frivolous young man named Pleyel, a young man who seems to be forming a romantic attachment to Clara. All is well until the arrival of an enigmatic stranger named Carwin, which coincides with a series of odd events involving unexplained voices. These events are slightly unsettling, but are soon overtaken by far more sensational and grisly occurrences.

The lack of standard gothic trappings is no weakness at all, and Wieland abounds in gothic atmosphere. The religious fanaticism and the cultism give the book a disturbingly modern flavour, and the horrors are far more plausible than those in contemporary English gothic novels such as those of Ann Radcliffe. Brown adopts a similar approach to Radcliffe towards the supernatural, but with a higher degree of ambiguity. Not all of the mysteries are neatly tidied up, and the true motivations and explanations for the events portrayed retain a certain air of mystery.

Like all good early gothic novels it relies on sensationalistic and sometimes far-fetched plot devices, but that’s part of the charm of early gothic. Wieland remains a disturbing and genuinely horrifying tale. Essential reading for anyone with any interest at all in the gothic.

[Steve]

This early American novel, gothic horror, presages little of the great efforts to follow in the coming decades. Whew, was this some laborious reading, a short story elongated into 200 languishing pages. Clara Wieland recounts the horrors perpetrated at the hand of her brother, Theodore, also involving the nefarious behaviors of a visitor, Carwin. Amazing that the American publishing industry recovered from this point of embarkation. I'm reminded of the Swedish warship, Vasa, which sank on her maiden voyage in Stockholm harbor on 10 August 1628. While an embarrassing failure at the time, today it is a thriving museum, the vessel having been recovered from the muck, worth a visit if you're ever in the area.

[Krodì80 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Di gotica attualità
[…] “pubblicato nel 1798 e lontanamente ispirato a un fatto di cronaca accaduto due anni prima […]. La trasformazione che vi viene raccontata, attraverso il ricordo della sorella del protagonista, è quella di un uomo mite ed intelligente, […], che diventa un pazzo omicida, convinto d’aver ricevuto da Dio l’ordine di sterminare la famiglia”.

Un libro di smaccata attualità dunque, questo Wieland o la trasformazione, scritto da un autore poco ricordato oggi, tale Charles Brockden Brown, nato a Philadelphia da una famiglia di quaccheri. Considerato in patria una delle prime espressioni di romanzo a stelle e strisce, nel 21esimo secolo Wieland può destare interesse e apprezzamenti prevalentemente per l’importanza che ricopre nel percorso evolutivo della letteratura statunitense, e per l’inaspettata aderenza a fatti e delirî del nostro tragico quotidiano. Sentendo gli influssi degli stilemi gotici dell’altra parte dell’Atlantico, ma sovvertendoli alla forza della ragione - a scapito dell’elemento meramente sovrannaturale -, Brown mette in scena un verboso racconto di mistero e pazzia, miscelando i temi e le atmosfere dell’orrifico con elementi nuovi, quali il fenomeno dell’autocombustione, il ventriloquismo e il fanatismo religioso, che porterà Theodore Wieland, in qualità di solerte strumento del cielo, a sterminare la sua famiglia in un delirio di sangue e voci ossessionanti. In questa imperfetta narrazione dai toni solenni e spesso melodrammatici, con interi paragrafi di estenuanti interrogative retoriche, Brown non riesce a codificare una storia dalla coerente tenuta d’insieme (strutturale e narrativa), anche perché l’edizione italiana si affida ad alcune scelte grottesche di traduzione che, insieme a ricorrenti refusi e alla vetustà del testo originale, confluiscono in una lingua improbabile ed antidiluviana ( i.e. “Pleyel basì. Mi guardò, dubitoso; ma, subito, mutò in dolorosa gravezza / poteva supporsi precedentemente essersi donato alla mia venerazione / Anche Carwin, pur nell’orgasmo della situazione, non mancò di riconoscerlo” e altre amenità). D’accordo il rispetto dell’americano del tempo, ma suddetto italiano (A.D. 1988) è quasi più insondabile dei meandri della psiche di Wieland.

[aindy! · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was supposed to read this for Academic Decathlon but I could not finish it. The plot and themes are actually pretty interesting, but the writing style is so overly wordy for no reason. I usually like flowery language to an extent, but a lot of this sounded like Charles Brockden Brown took a regular sentence, searched up every other word in a thesaurus, and chose the most complicated-sounding synonym. It makes even less sense when you realize that it's supposed to be a series of letters from the main character, who probably was not super educated.

I know this book was like a historical milestone, but why does it have to sound like this:

"Surely the sympathy of his sister, proofs that her tenderness is as lively as ever, must be a source of satisfaction to him. At present he must regard all mankind as his enemies and calumniators. His sister he, probably, conceives to partake in the general infatuation, and to join in the cry of abhorrence that is raised against him. To be undeceived in this respect, to be assured that, however I may impute his conduct to delusion, I still retain all my former affection for his person, and veneration for the purity of his motives, cannot but afford him pleasure. When he hears that I have left the country, without even the ceremonious attention of a visit, what will he think of me? His magnanimity may hinder him from repining, but he will surely consider my behaviour as savage and unfeeling. Indeed, dear Sir, I must pay this visit. To embark with you without paying it, will be impossible. It may be of no service to him, but will enable me to acquit myself of what I cannot but esteem a duty. Besides," continued I, "if it be a mere fit of insanity that has seized him, may not my presence chance to have a salutary influence? The mere sight of me, it is not impossible, may rectify his perceptions."

Translation: "maybe he'll feel better if i visit him"

h

[Bryan · Rating 4 out of 5]

What interests me the most about Wieland is the time-span of its narrative, between the end of the American Revolution and the beginning of the French Revolution. Brown clearly wants his story of a 'ventriloquist' (not Edgar Bergen --- here, someone skilled in tricking others to ascribe his 'thrown voice' to an occult authority) to be read as some sort of historical allegory! But, if you are not interested in Brown as a political thinker, this very strange novel can also be read as a kind of agoraphobic paranoid narrative of post-revolutionary settlers coping with cultural displacement and puritanical repression. All of the gothic elements are in place, along with an increasingly unreliable first-person narrator who recalls the governess in James' Turn Of Screw. Wieland was written a few generations before Poe emerged, but the aesthetic of brutality and suffocation is very much a prototype.

[DeAnna Knippling · Rating 5 out of 5]

Strange and mysterious events surrounding the hearing of supernatural voices.

A tricky tale whose beginning hints only slightly at its end. The type of plot that the book uses is less common now than it was in the early days of gothic and sensationalist tales, and the plot twist relies on there being more than one cause. So caution on some of these reviews--a lot of them seem to be relying on modern traditions in storytelling as their sole metric. The novel is based on a true story, even if it does seem over the top.

Recommend if you like Poe and tales of ratiocination.

[Jon · Rating 2 out of 5]

If a goth Calvinist with a chaffed ass and marginal writing skills wrote an episode of Scooby-Doo it would closely resemble this dated, moralizing tale, created with cobbled together elements of gothic literature, which unfortunately represents the best of American literature at its infancy. The introduction to this book, written by a contemporary of Brown's named Evert A. Duyckinck, was so poorly written I thought it was kook literature penned by a privately wealthy independent book publisher, which, in retrospect, makes more sense having finished the novel. I have to believe any contemporary praise given to this novel comes only from a place of intellectual sentimentality.

[Mike Thorn · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a pretty complex novel, especially given its relatively short length. If its plot contrivances disappoint in narrative terms, they're fascinating in symbolic and historical terms. The device of bilocation/multi-locution plays into late eighteenth-century sensationalist conventions, but even more interestingly represents the fallibility of human sense perception and presents a metafictional stand-in for Brown's polyphonic authorial machinations. Wieland provides the template for some of the American Gothic's ongoing obsessions, especially madness, familial violence, and religious delusion.

[Leo · Rating 2 out of 5]

Sadly I did not enjoy it at all. I love reading classics but this is exactly the kind of book I was afraid everything would be when I started reading classic. It was dull, dusty and extremely underwhelming. I know this is probably a classic for a reason it just did not work for me. Found it quite tedious to get through but I keept hoping I would get to a point where O enjoyed it, unfortunately I did not

[Krynn Hanold · Rating 1 out of 5]

fuck this book

[Destiney Samare · Rating 2 out of 5]

The plot line could have been good, but i found myself becoming too lost and confused most of the time. The execution was absolutely not it.

[anna · Rating 2 out of 5]

while i can appreciate a bit of chaos and …plot twists (?) it DOES get to a point. also, has this man ever spoken to a woman

[Lee Foust · Rating 3 out of 5]

It seems appropriate that the first professional novel to come out of the United States would involve the idiocy of Christian gullibility, religious murder, and chicanery. Other than that, it was rather awkwardly written--not as good as its British inspirations--Anne Radcliffe, I think, mostly, although there was a nod to Sophia Lee's The Recess--or its American followers, Hawthorn and Poe. Still, unbelievable and clumsy as it occasionally was, it was an interesting place to spend a few hours, in an America that tied to the Old World still, pristine and yet totally cultured, and wholly theoretical in its concerns. Still, all of the novel's intellectual Romantic philosophy boils down to a clown's conjuring trick and that's somewhat disappointing.

[Grace · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very interesting book, I was really into the first half but felt the second half dragged a bit and didn’t really need multiple chapters to gain a viewpoint of a certain character. I was also underwhelmed with the ending. However the first half is very strong and leans well into the idea of gothic horror.

[Stacey · Rating 5 out of 5]

About twelve or fifteen years ago, in every issue of Entertainment Weekly, they would ask a published author to recommend a book to their readers and explain why they think people should read it. I normally only glanced over every issue because I'm too busy, and most recommendations were (are?) fairly mainstream. What caught my attention this time was the black and white photo of the author making the recommendation. He was young. Big, wild, dark eyes stared out of a pale face with nine-o'clock shadow, under a tangled mass of crazy dark hair. He looked like a serial killer. Naturally, he was a crime/suspense fic writer and, naturally, I had to know what "did it" for someone who looked like that. He talked about a book he had to read back in college. It was, he said, about a guy who befriends a peaceful family in a rural setting and who uses ventriloquism to create all manor of trouble in the isolated household. He said he could never get it out of his head. I recall ripping out the article, thinking I would check on it later.

Years went by and I would think about that book off and on. Who knows what mania possesses us when we forget about some THING of which we've heard and then, one day, we just HAVE to have it. But, years can really mess with a person's memory. I was positive the name of the book was The Ventriloquist and that the antagonist used a dummy. Both fallacious memories that really frustrated my suddenly desperate search. I had long misplaced or thrown out the original article so I had nothing to go on. I left fantastic descriptions of the story on all the book-freak message boards. Not one bite. My only hope was a Goodreads friend who, apparently, speed reads and (thoughtfully) reviews EVERYTHING. I swear this guy reads so much I fear he just might run out of books. I was disappointed when I related to him a book plot involving a man terrorizing a family with a dummy and he said he hadn't read such a story but if I ever found the book he would really love to.

That was around a year ago. And I'd given up.

Last month I was purging about seventeen years worth of stuff from some old file cabinets when I found a sheet of paper with book recommendations and saw I'd written "Wieland (Wieland...? What the f*ck?!): A guy terrorizes a rural family with a dummy."

There are no dummy's in this book.

But there is plenty of terror.

I checked. My GR friend who reads everything HAD, indeed, read it and called it "confusing" and "badly written." Uh oh. I contacted him again after I learned the actual title. He said he'd thought of Wieland but since there was no dummy.... Ah, we do it to ourselves. Thank God I found the title though, because I did not find it confusing or badly written. In fact, I LOVED this book. I loved it a lot.

I found Wieland as enthralling as a Karin Slaughter page-turner and after the horrific climax (Which I read with wide eyes, a hand over my mouth, and "Jesus Christ" falling from my lips. I knew there was going to be violence but I really didn't see THAT coming, though the cover of the book held a fat clue...) and numerous twists and turns. I had to stay up very late to finish it - or I'd never have been able to sleep for wondering.

Only twice was I confused. First, when Carwin and Clara are talking and he suddenly starts with "Carwin this" "Carwin that", like he's talking about some other guy (any editor would have insisted that he knock off the bewildering switch to first-person), and the second: When Clara and Pleyel are revealed, out of the blue, to be mutually and utterly enamored with one another. In that moment I honestly wondered if this book made it to print minus a chapter. And I wouldn't be surprised if it's sitting in an attic somewhere. But, since the mutual crush would have been perfectly plausible and it fit, I accepted the lack of prior clues and moved on.

I actually found Wieland less confusing than most of what I read. I found no run-on sentences and CBB doesn't overuse his three favorite words (flagitious, indefatigable, solicitude) any more than any other writer. At any rate, as the writer of the first American (crime) novel I very much doubt CBB had a gaggle of editors combing through and cleaning up his work for those who are sensitive to details grammatical in nature. It's because of multiple stages of editing that ANY novel written in the last ninety years is even readable. I read a great deal of less-than-awesomely-edited fiction (lots of straight-to-paperback and e-book-only work) so I am used to rolling over the rules when the story is good. And I found this story to be VERY good. But I'm different. It's cool, it's not like I don't know(!). I am a big fan of convoluted psychological suspense and mood. I DO care about grammar and sentence structure but it's the FEELING I get from what I'm reading that matters most to ME. For me, a book isn't math. A+B=C is not how my brain functions. It is amazing what I won't notice when my heart is in my fist as Clara, in a time of no electricity, no phones, no cars blasting music, cut off from all but a handful of humans, approaches the abandoned murder house at dusk only to find a burning candle in the window of her former bedroom. You're there with her, seeing that candle. And your curiosity about it is as strong as hers - even though you know that to investigate means you are both propelling to doom. These people saying the writing is bad... we are not coming from the same place. There are many moments where Charles Brockton Brown put me in a place where the civilization of this land was hardly even starting because that's where HE was when he wrote Wieland. It felt to me as if I were embodying an ancestor in Clara, I felt I was having her experiences: The silence, the sky full of stars and colors of twilight, the being unable to do much of anything once the light of day finally was too little to see by, the aloneness, the comfort in aloneness until strange things start happening... the fear.... and Clara's intense need to know what the Hell all the madness was about. I felt it all. That was MY focus. And, man. Charles Brockden Brown delivers.

I loved Brockton Brown's writing, often reading chapter-after-chapter aloud because it was so much fun to HEAR. I even loved the strange spellings of familiar words (words spelled differently when our nation was young) beyond what, say, an American reader would encounter when reading an edition of a novel published for British readership. I think also I was very grateful to be reading an annotated edition of CBB's work. But the real pleasure (a fitting yet odd word considering the horror at the center of it all) of this book is an utterly convincing female heroine. Clara is a gift. I LOVED being in her head and related to her completely, ESPECIALLY when she was about to do something risky because she just couldn't take not knowing the truth. She's Indiana Jones, taking the chance, hoping she can beat that boulder to the exit. That Clara was written by a man and that he got her so right, at a time when it would have been difficult for a man to get into the head of such a woman is a remarkable achievement. No, I encountered no "bad writing", nor was I "confused" and, after all these years, I was EXPECTING to be VERY disappointed. But, as I stated, I'm a little different (I need to look up that writer who loved this book... you know, the "serial killer"?). Being of a creative bent, I'm often swimming against the tide so you should judge for yourself :)

*****************

Btw, regarding the business about spontaneous combustion: I have a friend/co-worker I adore but with whom I don't agree on a lot of big issues. Doesn't change how I perceive her because she's an awesome friend. When I finished this book I wanted to talk about it, she was there, but I was a little nervous about mentioning the spontaneous combustion bit because she's a church-going, Bible-believing Christian. I went slowly and was quite surprised when she seemed unimpressed. Didn't bat an eye. In fact, I got from her quite the little history about belief in spontaneous combustion in the early African-American church, a thing in which many of the elderly in the community STILL believe. She reasoned it only made sense that ANY people cut off from modern society with only hard work and a Bible would believe in such things and claim to have witnessed them. It wasn't just early African-Americans, she said, who "got Old Testament literal." Thus, modern claims that spontaneous combustion was nothing but a device and that CBB threw into this novel "everything but the kitchen sink" are, perhaps, unfair and, possibly, uninformed. My friend's lack of surprise was pretty funny to me, however. Spontaneous combustion... I really had no idea(!).

Oh, and a person driven to a horrible crime because they believed the voice of God told them to? My friend seemed to find that perfectly logical - because the person committing the crime truly believed he was doing The Lord's bidding. She didn't call the character in this novel who did the deed a "victim" but I got the definite impression she felt the case could be made, back then, that the provocateur was the REAL criminal and should have realized the lethal possibilities of HIS acts on a believer of the literal Bible.

Still thinking on that...

[Sotiris Karaiskos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Early American literature is not particularly distinct from the British one from which it came, and this book partly shows it, but also shows an attempt to something different. It is a classic gothic novel with all the ingredients that characterized the genre at that time, the dramatic tones, the exaggeration in the plot, the mysterious atmosphere and the metaphysical hints, but there are also many elements that make it different, placing it on a starting point that ultimately ends up with writers like Edgar Allan Poe. Beyond that is a very interesting book in itself, beyond its historical significance.

Η πρώιμη αμερικανική λογοτεχνία δεν ξεχωρίζει ιδιαίτερα από την αντίστοιχη Βρετανική από την οποία προήλθε και αυτό το βιβλίο εν μέρει το δείχνει αλλά δείχνει παράλληλα και μία προσπάθεια διαχωρισμού. Είναι ένα κλασικό γοτθικό μυθιστόρημα με όλα τα συστατικά που χαρακτήριζαν το είδος εκείνη την εποχή, με τους δραματικούς τόνους, την υπερβολή στην πλοκή, την ατμόσφαιρα του μυστηρίου και τους μεταφυσικούς υπαινιγμούς, υπάρχουν, όμως, και πολλά στοιχεία που το κάνουν να διαφέρει τοποθετώντας το σε μία αφετηρία πού καταλήγει τελικά σε συγγραφείς όπως τον Edgar Allan Poe. Πέρα από αυτά είναι ένα ιδιαίτερα ενδιαφέρον βιβλίο από μόνο του, πέρα από την ιστορική του σημασία.

[Nancy Lewis · Rating 2 out of 5]

Lengthy, wordy, convoluted.

[Paul · Rating 3 out of 5]

Look, there's a lot wrong with Wieland, not least the fact that Charles Brockden Brown changed his mind about what he was writing halfway through and couldn't be bothered to go back and fix what he'd already written. Deus ex machinas proliferate to make sure everything can be explained just so. But the middle half of the book remains an exciting preview of where the genre Wieland pioneered could go.

[Brian · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a very different reading experien e than i had expected. Of course, i hadn't known what to expect at all going in and purposely avoided reading anything at all about the book so i could discover it as i read. And what a strange journey it ended up being!
I got this book without front or back cover out of a box of books that my parents were getting rid of. When i picked this one up and said I'd never heard of it, my dad commented that he thought "they made everyone read that one." I suppose that may have been the case at one point because of its historical value as the first American gothic novel, more than its literary value. Knowing that now, i can see this as a precursor to edgar alan poe. Not knowing it before reading, i was continually surprised as it got darker and more foreboding.
The language was very old fashioned, which i found charming throughout and a bit challenging in places. The construction "It/I/he was not without X" seemed to be a favorite, and there were times where i had to count the "nots" to try to discern what was being communicated. Take this as an example: "That he himself is not the deceiver could not be believed, if his testimony were not inconsistent with yours;" ... I'm still not sure i know what that's saying.
I really got sucked into the story, so that by the end i was reading like an obsessed person to try to see how it was going to end. Having been conditioned by modern literature to expect everything to be significant, i was pretty disappointed at the way some things were just left alone and never explained further. My hopes were really raised by the whole episode in the last chapter that i kept expecting to bring some things around full circle, but nope, it was just another illustration of the moral of the story, which i think is something like "when bad things happen, the victim is probably partly to blame." Now that's the age of enlightenment for ya!

[Darklittle · Rating 3 out of 5]

Wieland leads us to 18th century Pennsylvania and a great part of the novel is set on the Wieland family estate. Charles Brockden Brown created a grey and dreary setting that is perfect for what’s about to happen. While reading, I sometimes imagined that the Wieland estate could easily be the setting for a much happier story. The estate would feel completely different, by just changing the right words. But we don’t need that for Wieland ;) .

The events that take place are told by Clara Wieland, sister of Theodore Wieland. Clara is a very brave and smart woman. Sometimes her actions are so brave that they can be classified as plain stupid. When I gave it some thought though, I noticed that it was somehow strange that this brave woman falls gravely ill every time someone tells her something shocking. That doesn’t make sense. Nevertheless, I never doubted the female voice Brockden Brown used to tell this story.

Charles Brockden Brown starts his novel with an introduction of the characters and their background. It takes some time for the story to get going but when it finally does, it’s full of suspense (at least if you have no idea about the outcome). In the end, everything seems to be clear. However, when you think about it, a few things just don’t add up. Wieland is a novel for those who are bored with today’s thrillers and those who want to see how the American Gothic novel started out.

[J.M. Hushour · Rating 4 out of 5]

I often have a hard time slogging through novels of this time period, late 18th-early-19th century and it's not because I don't appreciate the often-Gothic conventions. I just tend to find the prose antiquated in a way that is charmless and dry. Certainly, I can't say it's the length that gets in the way.
"Wieland" is a wonderful exception, and on so many levels. Sure, it's your typical "weird events in the night" scenario, dark and brooding and weird. But it stands out for being that rare novel in which everyone is basically a turd of a person who contributes to the horrific ruin of everyone else. No one escapes unscathed. The main horrors are religion and religious mania, too, which might surprise you. Even more surprising is the deft narration of a female somewhat-out-of-archtype for the time narrator. Clara Wieland isn't married, lives alone, likes dudes but doesn't feel obligated to settle down, and she only faints occasionally when things get too stressful. She is a fine and able chronicler of the evil machinations of the satanic Carwin and organized religion itself.
The rest of this volume contain works of lesser quality, classically-focused tales and an unfinished autobiography (fictional, natch) of "Wieland"'s villain, which is an awesome concept.

[Jenn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wieland, his first novel, tells the story of a religious fanatic who builds a temple in the seclusion of his own farm, but then is struck dead, apparently by spontaneous combustion. Several years later, his children, in turn, begin to hear voices around the family property, voices which alternately seem to be commanding good or evil and which at times imitate denizens of the farm. Are the voices somehow connected to a mysterious visitor who has begun hanging around? Are they commands from God? From demons? Suffice it to say things get pretty dicey before we find out the truth.
This is a terrific creepy story which obviously influenced the course of American fiction. Brown develops an interesting serious theme of the role that reason can play in combating superstition and religious mania, but keeps the action cranking and the mood deliciously gloomy. The language is certainly not modern but it is accessible and generally understandable. It's a novel that should be better known and more widely read, if not for historical reasons then just because it's great fun.

[Joseph]

If you want to know where Lovecraft, Poe and Hawthorne were coming from, read this. THEN read "Walden". Some serious abyss-gazing going on. (Ex)puritans always seem to use the wild places as their own little rorshach blots, and when the wendigo starts looking back at them, it's usually from the mirror....

[Moonchild · Rating 1 out of 5]

I can't believe I stuck it out until the end. There were a few good plot twists, a couple of creepy atmospheric scenes, and an interesting (but weakly made) moral point. But there are so many *good* gothic authors, I won't be wasting time again on this one.

[carson · Rating 3 out of 5]

read for class --
"I will not dwell upon my lapse into desperate and outrageous sorrow. The breath of heaven that sustained me was withdrawn and I sunk into MERE MAN. I leaped from the floor: I dashed my head against the wall: I uttered screams of horror: I panted after torment and pain. Eternal fire, and the bickerings of hell, compared with what I felt, were music and a bed of roses." goes entirely too hard for a book written in the 18th century about a dude murdering his wife and children under the influence of a demon