I selected my own tales for this reading, as follows:
Metzengerstein
MS. Found in a Bottle
Ligeia
How to Write a Blackwood Article
William Wilson
The Fall of the House of Usher
A Descent into the Maelstrom
The Murders in the Rue Morgue
The Oval Portrait
The Pit and the Pendulum
The Masque of the Red Death
The Gold-Bug
The Tell-Tale Heart
The Black Cat
The Purloined Letter
The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar
The Cask of Amontillado
My thoughts on each are below, but long story short: one of the best writers I've ever read.
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Metzengerstein (1832)
Poe's first published story. Metempsychosis, an ancient prophecy (that turns out wrong), a Latin epigraph by Martin Luther that reads: "Living I have been your plague, dying I shall be your death."
And indeed it's the story of two warring noblemen whose feud is continued when one is reincarnated as the horse of the other. Despite the Germanic romanticism the story felt slightly tongue-in-cheek.
Kipling, who'd said "My own personal debt to Poe is a heavy one," was supposedly inspired by this tale when writing The Phantom Rickshaw.
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MS. Found in a Bottle (1833)
Awesome.
Imagine you're a weekly periodical named The Baltimore Saturday Visiter and you sponsor a short story contest and this very cool nightmare arrives in the mail. Poe won unanimously.
A polar horror story in the Coleridge line. The imagery has a vast sublimity: the ocean swells lifting the ship up to the level of the albatross, then plunging it back into the gulf, while a titanic black vessel appears teetering overhead. The story grows more and more Sturm und Drang:
"...I have been all my life a dealer in antiquities, and have imbibed the shadows of fallen columns at Balbec, and Tadmor, and Persepolis, until my very soul has become a ruin... All in the immediate vicinity of the ship is the blackness of eternal night, and a chaos of foamless water; but, about a league on either side of us, may be seen, indistinctly and at intervals, stupendous ramparts of ice, towering away into the desolate sky, and looking like the walls of the universe."
By the end the letter-writer is being sucked into the unknown at a terrific speed, his interest absorbed by the mysteries being revealed, though it means his death. It's like 2001:
"As I imagined, the ship proves to be in a current—if that appellation can properly be given to a tide which, howling and shrieking by the white ice, thunders on to the southward with a velocity like the headlong dashing of a cataract...
"To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I presume, utterly impossible; yet a curiosity to penetrate the mysteries of these awful regions predominates even over my despair, and will reconcile me to the most hideous aspect of death. It is evident that we are hurrying onward to some exciting knowledge—some never-to-be-imparted secret, whose attainment is destruction."
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Ligeia (1838)
Zombie story. The ghost of a man's beloved first wife murders the second so she can return in her body. I enjoyed how over-the-top this one is. When the narrator compares his wife's eyes to the feeling he gets when he looks at “one or two stars in heaven—(one especially, a star of the sixth magnitude, double and changeable, to be found near the large star in Lyra) in a telescopic scrutiny of which I have been made aware of the feeling," I began to suspect either he was mad, or I was reading a parody, or both.
The scenario at the end has a ghastly humor too, with the poor narrator seeing his wife die and come to life and die over and over again.
That conqueror worm poem is incorporated into the story, a perfect poem of its kind.
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How to Write a Blackwood Article (1838)
Humor piece making fun of sensation fiction and the writing cliches typified by Blackwood's magazine. Some funny zingers.
Poe takes a not unjustified dig at De Quincey:
"Then we had the ‘Confessions of an Opium-eater’ — fine, very fine! — glorious imagination — deep philosophy — acute speculation — plenty of fire and fury, and a good spicing of the decidedly unintelligible. That was a nice bit of flummery, and went down the throats of the people delightfully. They would have it that Coleridge wrote the paper — but not so. It was composed by my pet baboon, Juniper..."
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William Wilson (1839)
Doppelgänger tale. The labyrinthine house that feels as big as the universe reminded me of Borges. The relationship between the doubles has a cosmic quality too, seeming, as the narrator says, to stretch to infinity. It's almost like the double is Wilson's good twin from a parallel universe.
Poe paints the relationship exceptionally well. It's unusual yet recognizable. I didn't know he had such conventional writing strengths in him. When he sent the story to Washington Irving hoping for a blurb he called it "his best effort." Irving told Poe it was "managed in a highly picturesque style, and the singular and mysterious interest is well sustained throughout.” This is true, although the mysteriousness resolves into a more moralistic tale that felt like a letdown after the outré buildup.
[Mem., see Irving's article "An Unwritten Drama of Lord Byron," which Poe said inspired the story].
Hawthorne, incidentally, said "William Wilson" was very similar to his own "Howe's Masquerade," writing, "not only are the two general conceptions identical but there are various points of similarity." Poe, as was his wont, insinuated plagiarism. Hawthorne's was published a few years after, in the second volume of (the ironically titled) Twice-Told Tales, yet this was a reprint. In fact his came out more than a year before Poe's and it's much more likely the latter's accusation was just a "best defense is offense" tactic. At any rate it's a funny case of a literary doppelgänger.
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The Fall of the House of Usher (1839)
The writing starts off amateurish but eventually becomes very technically impressive. The scholarly language has the same authenticity of M.R. James, and Poe details the Gothic setting with a realism that is quite masterful, such as this description of the vault in the house: “It had been used, apparently, in remote feudal times, for the worst purposes of a donjon-keep, and, in later days, as a place of deposit for powder, or some other highly combustible substance, as a portion of its floor, and the whole interior of a long archway through which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper."
(Poe was not a scholar yet his imitation is as convincing as his nautical one in the seafaring tales. He was astonishingly good at creating verisimilitude).
Stories like this, William Wilson, and many of the others differ in manner and matter from later speculative fiction such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the novels of Ira Levin yet are essentially of the same school of suspense--a school I'm now wondering if Poe invented, along with apparently everything else. It's the "weird things are happening" school, and you and the main character are tasked with piecing together the uncanny clues of, not so much a mystery, as a mysteriousness. That's what drives these tales. The search for meaning.
Here it is wrapped up in the house, in the twin sister, even in the look of "low cunning" and perplexity of the family doctor. The oddest stuff is when Poe goes off about the exterior of the house, with its zigzagging crack, and Usher's belief in the sentience of the edifice, connected somehow to the arrangement of the stones, the fungi covering it, and its duplication in the water of the tarn. The story also gives a glimpse of the fascination of growth and decomposition you sometimes see in modern horror.
Again the beginning is a bit overwritten, in the way Conrad can be. This was the other story Poe sent to Washington Irving. Irving, of course, put it better than me when he wrote back "You have been too anxious to present your pictures vividly to the eye, or too distrustful of your effect, and had laid on too much colouring. It is erring on the best side – the side of luxuriance. That tale might be improved by relieving the style from some of the epithets.” Valuable feedback from the master stylist, whom Poe valued above all for his style.
Marginalia:
*Apparently I'm not the first to theorize that the description of Roderick Usher is a description of Poe himself, as the Encyclopedia Britannica says readers were commenting on it back in 1839. Some took it to mean the resemblance went further than the mere physical, but I thought it was just an author's whim. Here it is: "A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of a surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a finely moulded chin, speaking, in its want of prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity; these features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten.”
Seriously, take a gander at the size of Poe's head.
*The unusual horror convention of a haunted house self-destructing at the end is found here. Apparently ETA Hoffmann started it.
Allusions:
*Weber's Last Waltz.
*The “glowing yet too concrete reveries of Fuseli.”
*This occult catalogue:
"Ververt et Chartreuse of Gresset; the Belphegor of Machiavelli; the Heaven and Hell of Swedenborg; the Subterranean Voyage of Nicholas Klimm by Holberg; the Chiromancy of Robert Flud, of Jean D’Indaginé, and of De la Chambre; the Journey into the Blue Distance of Tieck; and the City of the Sun of Campanella. One favorite volume was a small octavo edition of the Directorium Inquisitorium, by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne; and there were passages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African Satyrs and OEgipans, over which Usher would sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however, was found in the perusal of an exceedingly rare and curious book in quarto Gothic——the manual of a forgotten church—the Vigiliae Mortuorum secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae.”
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A Descent into the Maelstrom (1841)
Wow. A+
Reprisal of "MS. Found in a Bottle," except Poe edges you a little farther into the abyss. Less Sturm und Drang but you still get the very metal imagery, involving this maelstrom a mile wide, and a more conventionally intense and emotional treatment:
“All this time I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My brother was at the stern, holding on to a small empty water- cask... As we approached the brink of the pit he let go his hold upon this, and made for the ring, from which, in the agony of his terror, he endeavored to force my hands, as it was not large enough to afford us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief than when I saw him attempt this act—although I knew he was a madman when he did it."
The nature writing, with its historical and scientific sources, the expert action writing, and the attempts to describe the sublime all reminded me of Melville. Perhaps it was a deliberate reference to this story when Ahab says he'll chase Moby Dick wherever he goes, including "round the Norway Maelstrom," which was Poe's name for it. Ahab was a Poe fan.
The most sci-fi aspect of the story is when the boat is spinning around in the whirlpool at a 45 degree angle and the narrator finds he can walk on the deck as easily as if it were level. He doesn't say centrifugal force by name but he attributes it to the spinning.
The Wizard of Oz definitely stole from this when the narrator sees huge objects like trees and shipwrecks passing him in the vortex.
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The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841)
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said there was no one before Poe, and his word is good enough for me. I'm shocked at how completely formed the detective genre started. It's all here: a locked-room mystery; a preternaturally perceptive amateur detective and his sidekick; Dupin has friends on the force, which grants him access to the crime scene; he's slightly inhuman and finds enjoyment in the grim puzzle; yet he's humane enough to bear in mind the important things, here that a man has been wrongfully accused; he's coy about sharing his hunches, preferring to keep us in suspense; even the moment when he becomes the man of action, producing a couple pistols for him and the narrator, was just like Sherlock Holmes.
This is a long short story but a faster read than Poe's others because of all the dialogue. It's great, more satisfying than most mysteries. The gory particulars are genuinely horrifying, more so than any you'll find in the almost two hundred years of copycats. Dupin's discourses on his methods of deduction are actually smart. And the (spoiler) idea of the orangutan with its shaving razor imitating a barber as it committed the murders is inspired and somehow more nightmarish than if it had just gone on a rampage out of nowhere.
Marginalia:
*In a letter to a friend Poe addressed the reception of the story by downplaying the amount of ingenuity it took: "In the 'Murders in the Rue Morgue,' for instance, where is the ingenuity in unraveling a web which you yourself... have woven for the express purpose of unraveling?"
*The physician Dumas a possible reference to... Dumas?
*Poe was probably inspired by accounts of the real-life private detective (the first) Eugène François Vidocq, though Dupin calls him merely a good guesser.
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The Oval Portrait (1842)
This very short story opens in high style, with a great and pointless frame story, where a wounded man and his valet bust into an abandoned chateaux in the Italian mountains.
It seemed to me an allegory privately addressed from Poe to his child bride, wasting away as he, the artist, attends to his art. Maybe he saw the irony of trying to capture her living spirit in his tales even if his neglect (perhaps financial) drew life from her body.
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The Pit and the Pendulum (1842)
A white-knuckle survival story that disorients and blinds and had me on the edge of my seat from beginning to end.
Like one of Browning's dramatic monologues, the story transports you into the head of a character very different from yourself, with no exposition and only the person's thoughts to help ground you--except Poe ratchets things up by making the character almost delirious, throwing him into total darkness, and releasing extreme and outlandish threats upon his safety. And every time he wakes his conditions have changed to some new and novel atrocity. It's less a story and more a writing exercise in sustained terror.
The setting is a sort of alternate history of the Spanish Inquisition and the Napoleonic Wars, which, again like Browning, is wonderfully fiendish and colorful, but really it's incidental. Poe could have made the recusant the victim of an alien abduction and it would've worked just as well. The point is the narrative experiment. Imagine Samuel Beckett's trilogy meets a snuff film.
Again, a seminal tale.
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The Masque of the Red Death (1842)
In an unnamed kingdom the wealthy shut themselves up from--or rather lock out--a plague-ridden world. But of course you can't buy your way out of death. Yet another concept made popular in a million incarnations, but none with more simplicity and style. (Reading these in order of publication I think I can detect a slight taming of the prose, after Washington Irving's feedback).
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The Tell-Tale Heart (1843)
Poe's genius in full ghastly bloom now.
“In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room..."
The story is obviously hilarious--for example when the narrator is so tickled by how quiet he's being that he chuckles to himself and wakes up the old man.
Things I picked up on this time:
Here again, as in Rue Morgue, Poe seems to (rightly) mock the importance of motive, going so far as to have the murderer assert "I loved the old man!"
The story can also be seen as laughing at the idea of considering premeditation to determine madness: “It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening... Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this?"
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The Gold-Bug (1843)
A delight. Once more Poe delivers where the writers that follow fail.
If the man didn't invent all these different genres, if he wasn't the first, he must've had one helluva knack for appearing to be the first. Now we're onto a buried-treasure tale, the inspiration for Treasure Island. The story was a huge hit second only to his The Raven.
It was a potboiler the starving author wrote to cash in on the craze for ciphers. He loved puzzles too and challenged the readers of the paper he worked for to stump him with their hardest ciphers.
In my review of Jules Verne's Journey to the Center..., I was trying to think who else had ever written like that, with its cool imagery and cryptographs. Now I know. Verne was a big Poe fan (he even wrote a continuation of Gordon Pym).
Poe is down-to-earth in this story, funny, and I was actually engrossed in the riddles. He is a remarkably lucid writer and his explanation of the cryptograph is made very plain.
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The Black Cat (1843)
Less original rehashing of Tell-Tale Heart. There's even a curious echo between the eye that drives the narrator to murder in the one, and the cat's eye the narrator digs out in a fury in the other. The (spoiler) murder is rushed and I got the feeling Poe wrote this just to get to his ironic twist, with the cat being immured with the wife and its cries betraying him. Some perhaps ominous descriptions of alcoholism in this story.
But the psychology is quite good. Poe has a great understanding of the human heart and uses it here to penetrate that of a horrible brute, his feelings of anger, guilt, disgust, horror and, above all, perverseness:
“It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself——to offer violence to its own nature—to do wrong for the wrong’s sake only..."
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The Purloined Letter (1844)
Interesting even if you know the ending.
Mostly an intellectual affair. Takes place in one room. Dupin solves the mystery halfway through then gives us a lecture on how he did it. But the lecture is great--the best part actually. Poe makes some fun observations about human error, and illustrates his points with children's games involving marbles and maps. The way we, when stumped, only increase the intensity of our method, rather than altering the principle of it, is very true.
Poe also sticks up for the intellect of the poet compared to the math person:
“As poet and mathematician, he would reason well; as mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all...”
“You surprise me,” I said, “by these opinions, which have been contradicted by the voice of the world... The mathematical reason has long been regarded as the reason par excellence.”
"...The mathematicians, I grant you, have done their best to promulgate the popular error to which you allude...
Though all the action takes place offstage, the ending is rather exciting when you hear about the switcheroo.
Marginalia:
*James Russell Lowell published this, just as he did The Tell-Tale Heart, in some short-lived journal. Poe told him he thought it was his best "ratiocination" tale.
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The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar (1845)
Mesmerism. Gross-out horror. The story aims for a single creepy effect, and follows the improvisations of a nightmare. A neat and spooky idea, applying the novel technique of hypnotism to the process of death.
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The Cask of Amontillado (1846)
Merely a scene, the scene of a crime, but very artistically and truly portrayed. A story of revenge set in Italy during the carnival, so probably inspired by Dumas. And now I'm certain Browning was influenced by Poe.