ARCHIPELAGO, a literary fiction of four characters’ discrete lives one random day in one random town.
The reader is chaperoned through the animated reality of this town. A town which “not in all historie, any memorable thing concerning it” occurred and, through performances of the characters, is invited to consider his own communal actions.
The novel commences with inquisitive poet Philomena Isabela Cordova passing her second novel to newly found friend Parveen Pattni, a young Hindu lesbian and burgeoning fine artist. Parveen begins to read Philomena’s book at the same time as Stephen Rei, disillusioned and hedonistic literary agent of some fifty years, is reading another one of Philomena’s “scribblings”. Philomena is lustily pursued by her step-sister’s husband and, as per the classical myth, Stephen and Parveen read of her assault, her retribution and more.
For ARCHIPELAGO is a very queer affair, unbearably queer perhaps
This is a demanding, yet utterly enjoyable, metatextual playing with readers’ expectations.
ARCHIPELAGO is a Joycean novel. It follows the manner of playing with various elements of language, but it is not an imitation of Joyce’s style. It is a product of a creative synthesis of Joycean tradition, as T.S. Eliot puts it, and the individual talent of G H Neale.
This deeply ironical piece of written word follows the Wittgensteinian idea of language and deals with the problem of true communication between people, who are seen as islands, or volcanoes in search for ventilation.
Most characters are writers, they read each other, and they write. Sometimes it is unclear who wrote which paragraph, which inky glyph.
It remains uncertain what really took place in the novel, what is “true” and what is a fiction made up by some of the characters/writers. Because everything is true and everything is made up.
Instead of asking what happened, where and when, we should pay more attention to what was really said in this novel. For it covers almost every single important subject that concerns us as human beings. It has references to (again, almost) every significant literary masterpiece, from Hesiod and Ovid, Shakespeare and Blake, to Beckett and Joyce – just to name a few. It plays with every major literary form, from Homeric verses to the stream of consciousness, dystopian fantasy, theatre of the absurd… It covers important philosophical and social issues. It begins with a medieval topos and appears hermetic but it is not that impenetrable. There are hints and keys everywhere, from symbols which appeal to our collective unconscious to ironical allusions.
A high-minded literary journey captained by an acerbic gentleman from Kent. A novel steeped in the Joycean tradition. An eclectic and dense word collage that implies a lifetime of hallucinogenic soul-digging, introspection. A work of ART, mate. When I looked up "GH Neale" on Amazon, the first thing that popped up was a used copy of Journey's greatest hits. Telling, I think. Sublime.
I endured much consternation over how to write review of this book. How to make a critical assessment. I finally arrived at the conclusion that it would be useless to try to do so. I would only obfuscate the point I'd really like to make. The point is: here finally is a book to fully indulge one's deepest, most esoteric intellectual pining. I got just a few pages in, when I felt the warming rush of comfort that comes with finding a proper space in the universe. Everyone should have a room of one's own, is it? This is the kind of book that I will keep in that room.
As far as particulars? Oh I don't know. Not everything here works. Neale's use of the Joycean method (I use this term for lack of a better one) to delineate the inner lives of his characters creates a nice level of intimacy. The references to the great works of literature of the past speaks to Neale's legitimacy as an artist, but of course will hit or miss depending on the reader's own literacy. The multitude of styles employed keep the book interesting and keep the reader guessing . . .
But that's enough of that. My intention is not to give a criticism, but to ask a question. Why, when I look this up on Amazon, do I get referenced to one of the most depressing cultural phenomena in modern history?! Are we really that disinterested? It's the sort of question that artists have been asking for a thousand years, I suppose. It's a big question. I'm glad there are still people like G.H. to press the issue. Do your part. Buy this book. Don't be on the wrong side of history.
This book reveals the minds of some of what life is like for the deepest & greatest thinkers. It depicts a novel where one may scratch their head and wonder or one may find themselves agreeing what is written on the fine pages of this book.
Archipelago tells a rather interesting story about several characters, one being a shy but geeky poet. As you read about her travels and life in a small England village the reader becomes captivated by how G H creates so many characters and their lives all in one day of life in this village. Simply put, the complexity of this story is that it covers so many lives in such a short about time
G H's words play out in many different elements of literacy and prose that entice and keeps the reader wanting to flip the page and read more. He pushes every boundary just likes the greats of Yeats, Elliot, & Joyce. This is a must read for anyone who seeks to find a great work of literacy.
Likened to the works of many literary greats, Archipelago tells the story of several different characters. Despite John Donne’s famous quote about no man being an island, Neale breathes life into a group of individuals who are considered separate entities. And while the characters are not connected by “traditional” means of land, they are a group of islands with only a small amount of distance between them. Their search for meaning does not go unnoticed by engaged readers of this impressive and thought-provoking title.
Dear reader: if, by chance, you have been waiting for another Joyce, Pound, Eliot, Yeats, Woolf, Mallarme, or any other literary Mozart that may exist on the tip of your wish list, then search no further. May I introduce you to G H Neale: a man with creative powers, in my judgment, which come along once in a generation, or perhaps less, in the vast world of words and images. A brilliant book is the hardest of all to critique: to entice without giving away too much, so that the reader may make their own discoveries within the bowels of the text. With G.H. Neale’s first novel, Archipelago: a problem, the problem is to center your focus on one variation of the theme which is in reality, quite simple: a day in the life of a gawky poetess as she traverses a small village in England to deliver her manuscript to a publisher. What begins as an enticing early-music melody on a viol, continues to escalate into a symphony full of dashing counterpoint. Ah, would it not be sweet to stop here and let the rest fill itself in? But that is impossible. Neale’s observations on the human condition in our present time juxtaposed to those still breathing, who are trapped in a world which no longer exists, is stunning to say the least. G H is a magician with delicate, but powerful hands, which befuddle your eyes from page to page. The mental machinations of each character brought onto the stage, the poetic narrative, the visual design of the interior of the book, like scenery in a theatre which changes at the whim of the author, all contribute to a phenomenal accomplishment. Archipelago clocks in at two-hundred and eighty-three pages and has thirty-three chapters: names of Islands within the geography of the title. The shifting of the winds from political, to scientific to philosophical/esoteric is constant. It is like a, who-done-it with no crime committed. The mystery exists in the finite brain of the author. An extremely rare sight is a glossary of sources and references in the back: that particular aspect being normally reserved for non-fiction works, which brings us to our conclusion. After reading Archipelago once (and I know I will have at it again) I walked away wondering if it were fiction or non-fiction? Judge for yourself.
The title of this wonderful book was the first thing that intrigued me. The islands of an archipelago are indeed separate tracts of land, they are also connected by their proximity to each other. Within the pages of this book, the reader is taken on a journey through the Galapagos islands as the subtext of human isolation and community plays out. I throughly enjoyed thinking about the existential questions posed in every chapter. “We are separated somehow in our disconnection between what is real and what we understand of the real.” This quote had me hooked from the very first page.
I obtained the most enjoyment from the author’s endless creativity with language. I marvelled at the shifts from exquisite prose to poetry, and every possible variation in between. The chapter entitled Santiago encompassed the perspective of a delightful canine and was my personal favourite. If a dog could speak, “FOOD! YES! HERE! HERE! DO IT!” would definitely be barked out at full volume. The brilliance of this book lies in the use of language to set up the uniqueness of each character. I loved Philomena, and the other strong characters, even the vile and repugnant Terry was portrayed well.
I have just scratched the surface of understanding this complex work with my initial reading. It is a book I will be returning to in the months and years to come. A marvellous debut for the author, Mr GH Neale.
Any attempt of mine to describe the intellectual ability of this incredible author’s mastery of words would fall short. Therefore, I shall keep my review short and to the point. It only took a few pages to fully fathom the talent this novelist possesses at his fingertips. A literary masterpiece in a world sparsely filled of talent, eloquence and depth, G.H. Neale’s book Archipelago is a must read for anyone who believes themselves to be an intellectual, free thinker or thirsty for work that not only surpasses the norm but exceeds the bar.
But, don’t take my word for it. Buy the book and come to this yourself.