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First Trilogy #2
Bewilderment
A non-comedy of drawing-room manners, turn-of-the-century style, set in Southern America.
253 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1922
18 people want to read
About the author
Evelyn Scott
43 books18 followersEvelyn Scott was an American novelist, playwright and poet. A modernist and experimental writer, Scott "was a significant literary figure in the 1920s and 1930s, but she eventually sank into critical oblivion.
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April 30, 2015Typically not listed in Scott's oeuvre, this novel was published after The Narrow House as
Narcissus
in the US (the latter title far more apt for the subject matter).
In an excellent interview here, Will Self pontificates on the nature of suspension of disbelief in the modern society, that we are, for want of a better word, too sophisticated to blindly accept narrative at face value, thus selectively choosing to suspend or sustain disbelief when confronted with a narrative, most examples of which, in latter years, are sufficiently self-aware of the relationship between reader and writer to, at the very least, give a passing nod of acknowledgement to that aspect. In short, the reader knows that the writer knows that both are thinking of the other during the creation and consumption of the text, if not contemporaneously (unless dealing with a live chat marketing bot either selling products or trying to figure out the winning calculus that results in that). Or to paraphrase Umberto Eco, when swapping declarations of love, a couple will say "As [romance writer] would write, I love you madly." The arm's length is the new up-close-and-personal.
It's that warped (jaded) or (other)worldliness that leaps in the fray here and languidly (the negligent flick of the proverbial wrist) labels this work a conflicted caricature of what most likely surrounded Evelyn Scott during her formative years. Were it a satire, it would probably less likely irk for its mismatched dialogue with authorial comment and lapses in free indirect style. Instead, it is a sincerely related tragedy of manners, finely depicting class and gender distinctions prevalent during the period of writing (pre 1922), with all the contradictions of convoluted emotions that arise between what is said, what is done, and what is conveyed as neither, to the observer privy to a character's thoughts less-than-wholly disguised as the author's own preoccupations.
The contents must have been largely regarded as inflammatory at the time: adultery, a teenage date-rape, descriptions of paedophiliac lust (and vice versa), written in a crisp style of exceedingly well-executed diction (which contributes to this reader's sense of unease, that the whole is so distinctly incongruent in its parts).
Scott's writing evinces the strangulation on the will to act and choice of behaviour by which the social mores and expectations of the day equally constricted individuals. It makes an excellent historical study of the styles accepted (and assumed) as part of narrative composition during the period, and when contrasted with how literary styles have (d)evolved during the last hundred years, while simultaneously highlighting the extreme discrepancy between actions, speech, and imputed thoughts, it makes worthwhile reading, if for these reasons alone.
In an excellent interview here, Will Self pontificates on the nature of suspension of disbelief in the modern society, that we are, for want of a better word, too sophisticated to blindly accept narrative at face value, thus selectively choosing to suspend or sustain disbelief when confronted with a narrative, most examples of which, in latter years, are sufficiently self-aware of the relationship between reader and writer to, at the very least, give a passing nod of acknowledgement to that aspect. In short, the reader knows that the writer knows that both are thinking of the other during the creation and consumption of the text, if not contemporaneously (unless dealing with a live chat marketing bot either selling products or trying to figure out the winning calculus that results in that). Or to paraphrase Umberto Eco, when swapping declarations of love, a couple will say "As [romance writer] would write, I love you madly." The arm's length is the new up-close-and-personal.
It's that warped (jaded) or (other)worldliness that leaps in the fray here and languidly (the negligent flick of the proverbial wrist) labels this work a conflicted caricature of what most likely surrounded Evelyn Scott during her formative years. Were it a satire, it would probably less likely irk for its mismatched dialogue with authorial comment and lapses in free indirect style. Instead, it is a sincerely related tragedy of manners, finely depicting class and gender distinctions prevalent during the period of writing (pre 1922), with all the contradictions of convoluted emotions that arise between what is said, what is done, and what is conveyed as neither, to the observer privy to a character's thoughts less-than-wholly disguised as the author's own preoccupations.
The contents must have been largely regarded as inflammatory at the time: adultery, a teenage date-rape, descriptions of paedophiliac lust (and vice versa), written in a crisp style of exceedingly well-executed diction (which contributes to this reader's sense of unease, that the whole is so distinctly incongruent in its parts).
Scott's writing evinces the strangulation on the will to act and choice of behaviour by which the social mores and expectations of the day equally constricted individuals. It makes an excellent historical study of the styles accepted (and assumed) as part of narrative composition during the period, and when contrasted with how literary styles have (d)evolved during the last hundred years, while simultaneously highlighting the extreme discrepancy between actions, speech, and imputed thoughts, it makes worthwhile reading, if for these reasons alone.
August 17, 2018
Far below the quality of Narrow House.
August 2, 2019
This modernist classic follows The Narrow House in Scott’s trilogy and continues the saga of the Farley family. I found it a challenging read.
Yet, I came to a better understanding of the infidelity, self-absorption, and despair that thematically dominates the pages of Narcissus when I read this quote from Evelyn Scott’s autobiography Escapade:
"True love is abnegation of self and in the relation of the sexes it is inappropriate."
No one in Narcissus rejects themselves for the sake of another, making the choice to name the novel after the mythological figure most identified with self-obsession an interesting one.
Narcissus, the son of a river god, was punished for his prideful rejection of his suitors by falling in love with his reflection in the waters of the river. Yet, vanity is not the element of the myth that Scott draws from, but rather it is Narcissus’ fate that gives the novel its symbolism. As you may recall, Narcissus could not obtain the object of his attraction, so he dies of sorrow.
The word dead or death appears over 30 times in Narcissus:
"She was dead and alone with her body that was so alive."
"She was dead already, shriveled in the cold heat."
"If somebody came she would lie there forever. She was dead. She wanted to think she was dead. But nobody came."
"I want to be dead! I want to be dead! She said this over and over into her pillow."
"She seemed to herself dead, and wanted him to be sorry for her. I can't live. I'm dead already. No use. I'm dead! I'm dead! She wanted to be dead. Something kept alive, torturing her."
Narcissus is about self-absorption. And what is more self-absorbed than death.
Yet, I came to a better understanding of the infidelity, self-absorption, and despair that thematically dominates the pages of Narcissus when I read this quote from Evelyn Scott’s autobiography Escapade:
"True love is abnegation of self and in the relation of the sexes it is inappropriate."
No one in Narcissus rejects themselves for the sake of another, making the choice to name the novel after the mythological figure most identified with self-obsession an interesting one.
Narcissus, the son of a river god, was punished for his prideful rejection of his suitors by falling in love with his reflection in the waters of the river. Yet, vanity is not the element of the myth that Scott draws from, but rather it is Narcissus’ fate that gives the novel its symbolism. As you may recall, Narcissus could not obtain the object of his attraction, so he dies of sorrow.
The word dead or death appears over 30 times in Narcissus:
"She was dead and alone with her body that was so alive."
"She was dead already, shriveled in the cold heat."
"If somebody came she would lie there forever. She was dead. She wanted to think she was dead. But nobody came."
"I want to be dead! I want to be dead! She said this over and over into her pillow."
"She seemed to herself dead, and wanted him to be sorry for her. I can't live. I'm dead already. No use. I'm dead! I'm dead! She wanted to be dead. Something kept alive, torturing her."
Narcissus is about self-absorption. And what is more self-absorbed than death.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews