The Unstrung Harp

by Edward Gorey

On November 18th of alternate years Mr. Earbrass begins writing his new novel. Weeks ago he chose its title at random from a list of them he keeps in a little green note-book. It being tea-time of the 17th, he is alarmed not to have thought of a plot to which The Unstrung Harp might apply, but his mind will keep reverting to the last biscuit on the plate. So begins what the Times Literary Supplement called "a small masterpiece." TUH is a look at the literary life and its "attendant woes: isolation, writer's block, professional jealousy, and plain boredom." But, as with all of Edward Gorey's books, TUH is also about life in general, with its anguish, turnips, conjunctions, illness, defeat, string, parties, no parties, urns, desuetude, disaffection, claws, loss, trebizond, napkins, shame, stones, distance, fever, antipodes, mush, glaciers, incoherence, labels, miasma, amputation, tides, deceit, mourning, elsewards. You get the point. Finally, TUH is about Edward Gorey the writer, about Edward Gorey writing The Unstrung Harp. It's a cracked mirror of a book, and it's dedicated to RDP or Real Dear Person.

Genres: Fiction, Humor, Art, Graphic Novels, Comics, Picture Books, Gothic

64 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1953

About the author

Born in Chicago, Gorey came from a colourful family; his parents, Helen Dunham Garvey and Edward Lee Gorey, divorced in 1936 when he was 11, then remarried in 1952 when he was 27. One of his step-mothers was Corinna Mura, a cabaret singer who had a brief role in the classic film Casablanca. His father was briefly a journalist. Gorey's maternal great-grandmother, Helen St. John Garvey, was a popular 19th century greeting card writer/artist, from whom he claimed to have inherited his talents. He attended a variety of local grade schools and then the Francis W. Parker School. He spent 1944–1946 in the Army at Dugway Proving Ground in Utah, and then attended Harvard University from 1946 to 1950, where he studied French and roomed with future poet Frank O'Hara.

Although he would frequently state that his formal art training was "negligible", Gorey studied art for one semester at The School of The Art Institute of Chicago in 1943, eventually becoming a professional illustrator. From 1953 to 1960, he lived in New York City and worked for the Art Department of Doubleday Anchor, illustrating book covers and in some cases adding illustrations to the text. He has illustrated works as diverse as Dracula by Bram Stoker, The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells, and Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T. S. Eliot. In later years he illustrated many children's books by John Bellairs, as well as books in several series begun by Bellairs and continued by other authors after his death.

Reviews

[Jeffrey Keeten · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mr. Clavius Frederick Earbrass, writer, goes to a literary party.

”The talk deals with disappointing sales, inadequate publicity, worse than inadequate royalties, idiotic or criminal reviews, others’ declining talent, and the unspeakable horror of the literary life.”



This party of dissatisfied writers may be like holding a mirror up to his own face, but it is still a diversion away from the manuscript which hangs around his neck like a soiled napkin.

”Not only is it repulsive to the eye and hand, with its tattered edges, stains, rumpled patches, scratchings-out, and scribblings, but its contents are, by this time, boring to the point of madness.”

Of course, now with our computer screens and the delete button, our manuscripts stay much tidier, though I have heard of writers picking up their computers in a moment of frustration and tossing them out the nearest window. Writing might be an art, but the journey might not always be artful.



There is an impalement on a bottle tree, which the circumstances have me out on my back deck contemplating the dangers of my own blue bottle tree. Maybe I should move it a bit farther away from the house. It wouldn’t be an Edward Gorey book without a mention of a horrendous, unusual death.

I can’t really say more except that I was thoroughly amused. This is the first of many Gorey books I plan to read over the next couple of years. I recently finished reading the new biography of Gorey by Mark Dery called Born to Be Posthumous, which is not only excellent, but has inspired me to read as much Gorey material as I can fit into my reading schedule.

If you are a writer, it will be impossible for you not to identify with the anxieties, insecurities, and frustrations of Clavius Frederick Earbrass.

If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
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[Fran · Rating 5 out of 5]

“On November 18th of alternate years Mr Earbrass begins writing ‘his new novel’. Weeks ago he chose its title at random from a list of them he keeps in a little green note-book.”

“Mr Earbrass belongs to the straying rather than to the sedentary type of author…he broods over it indefinitely while picking up and putting down again small, loose objects; walking diagonally across rooms; staring out windows…”.

“Mr Earbrass has rashly been skimming through the early chapters, which he has not looked at for a month, and now sees The Unstrung Harp for what it is, Dreadful, Dreadful, DREADFUL.”

“Even more harrowing than the first chapter of a novel are the last for Mr Earbrass anyway. The characters have one and all become thoroughly tiresome…neglected sections of the plot loom on every hand, waiting to be disposed of; his verbs seem to have withered away and his adjectives to be proliferating past control.”

The Unstrung Harp; or, Mr Earbrass Writes a Novel, published in 1953, is a parody in words and illustrations by Edward Gorey. The brilliant ink drawings are as equally important as the text in creating the atmosphere that clouds Mr Earbrass’ writing. He is riddled with stress, boredom, writer’s block, self-doubt and fear of the completed work being rejected. What if the novel is panned and is obscurely shelved in the bargain bin?

Although published seven decades ago, this literary and visual look at writing continues to be relevant today. Highly recommended.

[Calista · Rating 4 out of 5]

The more of Edward's books I read, the more I love the Gorey. This is from the 50s and it is so different. Thank heavens his work is still around.

This little book is about breathing life into an idea to make it become a story. It looks like a laborious process. There is much humor here. I simply love the fact that he keeps a list of titles and every 2 years on November 18th, he picks a title and begins to write the book. It's like clockwork. Thank you to all the artists who go through this.

The drawings are fantastic and so Gorey. I'm a fan.

[Kaethe · Rating 5 out of 5]

So as part of my ongoing Gorey-related nonfiction I am also going back and reading the books in the order they come up for discussion in Born to Be Posthumous, every time Dery talks about the influences on Gorey I fall down yet another rabbit hole. There are authors I wasn't familiar with, such as Firbank, I've requested something of his by ILL.
Then there's authors I only had a passing familiarity with such as Ivy Compton-Burnett (the name was familiar, but that's all) and Alison Lurie (a writer who had never much interested me, such that I gave to the library booksale a signed edition of Foreign Affairs, which now seems interesting, when I realize that she wrote The War Between the Tates, a novel which became The War of the Roses film, and which I loved in both original and adaptation. Oh, well, I couldn't possibly keep everything.)

So several days back I read this along with the other little random hardcover Gorey books I own. And then today, when Dery got up to it, I had to read it again, to see if I agreed with his analysis, which I don't quite, although I feel it is fair and valid, just overthought like much literary criticism.

Personal copy

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sublime!

I may have to acquire a copy of 'Amphigorey' in order to more fully explore Goreyland. This is maybe the third of his little booklets that I've read... and this one's a pip!

In a compact collection of 'chapters', we're given the entire process involved in writing and publishing a book - from the start (and through the vagaries) of the writing process:

... his verbs seem to have withered away and his adjectives to be proliferating beyond control. Furthermore, at this stage he inevitably gets insomnia. Even rereading 'The Truffle Plantation' (his first novel) does not induce sleep. In the blue horror of dawn the vines in the carpet appear likely to begin twining up his ankles.

In a spectral disturbance in 'Chapter' 11, one of author C.F. Earbrass' fictional characters appears to him near a staircase, before eerily slipping away.

In themselves, Gorey's illustrious illustrations serve as potent novellas - overflowing with exquisite b&w details that could have you making good use of your magnifying glass (as I did). In 'chapter' 21, Earbrass (in a respite after delivering his manuscript to his publisher) visits an antique shop with a friend:

Mr. Earbrass irritatedly wonders why anyone should have had a fantod stuffed and put under a glass bell.

In 'chapter' 25, look to the upper right; Earbrass has purchased the fantod*.  

When Earbrass finally sees the mock-up for his book's cover, he is unnerved:

Even after staring at it continuously for twenty minutes, he really cannot believe it. What were they thinking of? That drawing. Those colours. *Ugh*. On any book, it would be ugly, vulgar and illegible. On his book, it would be these, and also disastrously wrong.

Earbrass is a fantod personified. The entire process of creativity is, for him, an endless source of disquiet.

It all makes for a story of gothic angst - which is nevertheless a heartfelt delight! (I wanted to add an image or two but, alas, I was unable to find any that had accepted dimensions.) A 'modest' effort in appearance... and a very rich canvas.

* Apparently a 'creature' who fidgets and is prone to agitation.

[Drew Canole · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm surprised this was published in 1953. It feels pretty modern, although its subject matter is probably 19th century. We follow an established author as he painfully writes a novel that he's ultimately unhappy with.

[Amy (Other Amy) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mr. Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards...

I really cannot explain this. I don't know why this is the most charming, delightful book upon books I have seen in recent memory. It just is. I love the sheer neurosis of it. My favorite panels are the last two, but it seems wrong to post them. (I can't resist quoting the penultimate panel above, though. So wonderful.)

(Unfortunately, I seem to be too incompetent to post an image properly. I will try to remedy this at a later date.)

Reread in Amphigorey, reviewing separately.

[Betsy Robinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Unstrung Harp; or, Mr Earbrass Writes a Novel by Edward Gorey

Mr. Earbrass is a hammer-headed writer with a beak for a nose and shell-shocked eyes. Mr. Earbrass ponders, writes, publishes, talks about, and runs away from his new novel.

Before writing this review, I (a far-less successful writer of novels than Earbrass) had a cup of coffee, thought about writing something hilarious with not a clue what it would say, therefore to procrastinate, I hugged my dog so hard she slunk into the couch corner and pretended to have an itch, so then I ran to the bathroom; I will not describe my output, but suffice it to say that preparing to write excites my lower tract. By the time I approached my computer, it was later in the day after my dog walk, so I was wearing clothes. This is not the case when I am in full-throttle possessed-by-demons writing mode, and therefore I would never want anybody to see me in the act.

Edward Gorey writes (and illustrates) everything about a writer in the act. It is hilarious!

[Jean-Luke · Rating 5 out of 5]

Or Mr Earbrass Writes a Novel Which Few Will Buy, Fewer Will Read and Even Fewer Will Truly Appreciate in Spite of the Years of Blood, Sweat, and Tears That Went Into the Writing of It and Will Go Into the Writing of the Next One, and the One After That, by Which Time This One Will Have Made It to the Discount Bins of the Secondhand Bookshops, Soon To Fall Into Obscurity; a cautionary tale. It is dedicated to R. D. P. and I would love to know who R. D. P. was. I would also like to have mailed Kurt Vonnegut a copy of this book as I feel he might have enjoyed it. Perhaps he had read it, who knows? If I can reread this one every November 18th for the rest of my life I will die a very contented man.

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning else wards…" God I love this fucking book.

The Unstrung Harp has the subtitle "or, Mr Earbrass writes a novel" and begins with "Mr C(lavius) F(rederick) Earbrass" contemplating his next book. "On November 18th of alternate years" he selects a "title at random from a list of them he keeps in a little green note-book." Over the course of the next several pages, we get glimpses of the plot-heavy story he's constructing, and while his novels have pseudo-serious-sounding titles like "More Chains than Clank" and "The Meaning of the House," the clues suggest that he's at work on a highbrow, yet slightly off-center, mystery.

Writing, however, doesn't come easily for Mr Earbrass, and the illustrations capture this struggle: Mr Earbrass looking out of the window. Mr Earbrass scribbling notes in his automobile. Mr Earbrass up all night with a bout of insomnia that not even a reading of his first novel can dispel. "It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything."

In each illustration, Mr Earbrass is impeccably dressed and has the air of a buttoned-up yet bewildered John Cleese puppet. He carries the look of someone who realizes that only he can solve the problems set before him, yet he has no idea how to proceed.

Finally, Mr Earbrass finishes, but it would be a mistake to call this milestone a "success." His struggle continues as he revises the work, produces a clean copy and delivers it to his publishers. As the publication date approaches, the indignities keep coming. Most dreadful of all is the literary gathering that he's roped into attending, where "[t]he talk deals with disappointing sales, inadequate publicity, more than inadequate royalties, idiotic or criminal reviews, others' declining talent, and the unspeakable horror of the literary life."

The Unstrung Harp is hardly an endorsement for a life in letters, yet it remains one of the most honest books about the writing process I've ever read. Its unstinting pessimism about the struggle to create something out of nothing makes the rewards of publishing one's work feel meager, if not vulgar. Only someone completely intoxicated with the notion of living one's life as a writer could find inspiration in Gorey's grotesque portrait of an artist. Yet I did and still do.

While it's tempting to see Mr Earbrass as a forebear to Barton Fink—another writer whose mental state is reflected by his nightmarish surroundings—Mr Earbrass is a much cooler customer. While Mr Fink is "a tourist with a typewriter," Mr Earbrass is perfectly at home at Hobbies Odd, his cave-like manor house on the moors.

Yes, Mr Earbrass' victories are minor and fleeting—composing the last line of his novel, enjoying a contemplative cup of tea—but in the gloom and doom in which Gorey has trapped him, they feel heroic.

Every Feb. 22, Edward Gorey's birthday, I re-read The Unstrung Harp. Respect.

[Gerry · Rating 4 out of 5]

The trials and tribulations of Mr Earbrass as he writes a new novel, 'The Unstrung Harp' (what use is that?!!), having already completed and had published three others including the unusually titled 'A Moral Dustbin'. He eventually has his new novel 'done up in pink butcher's paper' for delivery to his publisher as he goes perplexingly on his way.

[Brian Tucker · Rating 4 out of 5]

Self - indulgent drivel for those who like to write and FUN as well.

[Jason · Rating 4 out of 5]

Have you ever wondered what an author goes through when creating a novel? The beginnings of an idea, creating characters which start to become more and more real, the insecurities, self doubt, beginnings of madness, figuring out how to end the book, the book taking over your dreams, rewrites, publishers, reviews, friends opinions and eventually trying to get away from it all. You really have to ask why they put themselves through it.

This is an interesting attempt to get all those feelings and experiences known to the reader. I thought it was a diary at first, but in the end it feels like a series of photos (in this case illustrations) in a magazine article where each picture has a little write up on what the author is doing.

Nice little book, well worth having a read.

[Just a Girl Fighting Censorship · Rating 1 out of 5]

I pretty much hated this book. I don't get the humor, I know that it is supposed to be funny, but I just thought it was stupid. Who is this book for? Certainly not children, I would classify this as a picture book for adults. This story goes on and on and on and on and on. So boring. To me it is very self-indulgent to write about the torments of writing.

I visualize the fans of this book as self-proclaimed 'writers', as they read they chuckle with a wink and a nod, "ha ha, I get this book because I too am a writer ha ha ha ha. The reason you don't like it must be that you do not understand the art of the written word ha ha ha ha".

Dull, very dull.

[Christopher · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a book called The Unstrung Harp, about the creation of a book called The Unstrung Harp, written by an anxiety-ridden Mr. Earbrass. Every other page has a paragraph of written words, and the pages that are not those pages have beautifully crosshatched illustrations of Mr. Earbrass going about his business. It’s Wes Anderson; it’s British society novels; it’s metafiction; it’s Edward Gorey.

[Nate D]

Edward Gorey's first published book, and one of the finest. I think it may also have more text than any of the others that followed, a full paragraph for each illustration. Not that the illustrations don't stand alone in all his work, but his sharp, amusing commentary on the creative process would be difficult to convey in image alone.

[Jonathon Crump · Rating 5 out of 5]

A charming story about the horrors of writing a book. At some point during his crucible, Mr. Earbrass realizes “his verbs seem to have withered away and his adjectives to be proliferating beyond control.” I found that hilarious. The illustrations are so good and singular. This is my first Edward Gorey book (whose 100th birthday is this year) and it won’t be my last! This should be required reading for anyone who wants to write a book.

[lethe · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read that this was Gorey's first independent work, so it's probably rather fitting that it should deal with an author's struggles with the Muse. Not being a writer, or generally very creative, I did not feel much empathy, but I did find it amusing.

Gorey's trademark strange creatures were already there in several of the illustrations, and I enjoyed Mr Earbrass's visiting such illustrious places as Collapsed Pudding, Something Awful, and especially Lying-in-the-Way. Very English-countryside.

[D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Is there actually a way for a person who studied writing at uni to gush about this book without sounding all pretentious? I don't know if there is, but let me just say that I really enjoyed looking into Mr Earbrass's creative process. It's funny and true and it pokes gentle fun at people in literary circles.

(Why are Gorey books so expensive. Ugh.)

[Jesse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mr. Earbrass - surrounded by comforts that make him visibly uncomfortable - is the most perfectly realized and sympathetic character who would ever emerge from Gorey's pen. Second place probably goes to the doubtful guest of The Doubtful Guest.

[Ksenia Anske · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you're a writer, you must read this. It will take you 20 minutes and you will choke on your own laughter. And die.

[Zedsdead · Rating 4 out of 5]

Edward Gorey writes a book about a man writing a book.

In high school I wrote a sonnet about writing a sonnet. Great minds, etc.

[Beth Cato · Rating 5 out of 5]

This simple, short book written and illustrated by Edward Gorey is probably the most accurate depiction of the novel-writing process that I have come across. It's funny how technology has changed but the process, the agony of it, has not. Gorey's artwork features author Mr. Earbrass with constant wide, fearful eyes, which makes it even more perfect. Really, this book is a charmer, and one I think most writers could well appreciate.

[Kthxbai! · Rating 4 out of 5]

For the names alone this book gets three stars. Scuffle and Dustcough. The West Mortshire Impassioned Amateurs of Melpomene. Col. Knout, M.F.H. of the Blathering Hunt. The fourth star is for Gorey's illustrations, the classic pen & ink scratchings which never fail to capture the absurd pathos of poor Mr. C(lavius) F(rederick) Earbrass, the well-known novelist, struggling with his latest literary effort. The story itself is sketchy, but by no means negligible, and amply augmented by the images of the golf club-headed author in his various poses of uncertainty and isolation as he goes through the motions of publishing yet another book of "words [that] drift through his mind." When, finally, Mr. Earbrass finds that "the virtue has gone out of everything" and he embarks on a spur-of-the-moment trip to the Continent, he manages to escape his life of imagined lives. "Though he is a person to whom things do not happen, perhaps they may when he is on the other side." Bravo, Mr. Earbrass, for realizing there's more out there than unfinished games of croquet or the last biscuit on the plate.

[Mary · Rating 5 out of 5]

You can actually find this online in PDF form, and if you've ever tried to write (or do, really) anything, then take a look at this. It's accurate and also hilarious in how overblown and dramatic people can get (*cough*definitelynotme*cough*) when trying to put together a creative piece. There's work and self doubt, along with a hefty dose of humor and preoccupation (and names like Hobbies Odd), and it's just fun satire with too much truth in it.

Now I want a backwards athletic shirt...

[Eddie Watkins · Rating 5 out of 5]

Must be the longest book Gorey ever wrote, in that you actually have to pause in between turning pages to completely read the text. It also contains some of his most highly wrought illustrations. It's a droll story about a man attempting to write a novel and all the obstacles, uncertainties, drippy literary chit-chat, and plush scarves attendant upon him in the process.

[Orrin Grey · Rating 4 out of 5]

After reading this, I had a better understanding for Jesse Bullington's LJ handle, and a strong desire to write something entitled "More Chains Than Clank."

[Sara · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read as part of Amphigorey.

[Catherine Mason · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully captures the trials and tribulations of novel writing. Is it really all worth it?

[Shan Gunn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful art and a fantastically short and darkly funny story about the tortured life of a writer. Really loved this one.