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Blue Voyage
In this autobiographical debut novel from one of America’s most acclaimed poets, a writer’s sentimental journey across the Atlantic becomes a crucible of heartbreak and mental anguish
William Demarest settles into his room, checks his pockets for his seasickness pills, and wanders onto the deck of the ship that will be his home for the next few days. The lights of New York City are still faintly visible, but Demarest’s mind is on London, where he hopes to be reunited with the woman he adores. He has spent countless nights pining for her and is finally ready to declare his love.
In a state of feverish anticipation, Demarest steals onto the first-class section of the ship. There, to his surprise, he discovers the woman he is traveling thousands of miles to see, only for her to dismiss him with devastating coldness. For the rest of the voyage, Demarest must wrestle with golden memories turned to dust and long-cherished fantasies that will never come to pass.
A brilliant novel of psychological insight and formal experimentation reminiscent of the stories of James Joyce, Blue Voyage is a bold work of art from a winner of the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize.
William Demarest settles into his room, checks his pockets for his seasickness pills, and wanders onto the deck of the ship that will be his home for the next few days. The lights of New York City are still faintly visible, but Demarest’s mind is on London, where he hopes to be reunited with the woman he adores. He has spent countless nights pining for her and is finally ready to declare his love.
In a state of feverish anticipation, Demarest steals onto the first-class section of the ship. There, to his surprise, he discovers the woman he is traveling thousands of miles to see, only for her to dismiss him with devastating coldness. For the rest of the voyage, Demarest must wrestle with golden memories turned to dust and long-cherished fantasies that will never come to pass.
A brilliant novel of psychological insight and formal experimentation reminiscent of the stories of James Joyce, Blue Voyage is a bold work of art from a winner of the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize.
318 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1927
6 people are currently reading
95 people want to read
About the author
Conrad Aiken
303 books81 followersKnown American writer Conrad Potter Aiken won a Pulitzer Prize of 1930 for
Selected Poems
.
Most of work of this short story critic and novelist reflects his intense interest in psychoanalysis and the development of identity. As editor of Selected Poems of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson in 1924, he largely responsibly established her posthumous literary reputation. From the 1920s, Aiken divided his life between England and the United States and played a significant role in introducing American poets to the British audience.
He fathered gifted writers Joan Aiken and Jane Aiken Hodge.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conrad_...
Most of work of this short story critic and novelist reflects his intense interest in psychoanalysis and the development of identity. As editor of Selected Poems of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson in 1924, he largely responsibly established her posthumous literary reputation. From the 1920s, Aiken divided his life between England and the United States and played a significant role in introducing American poets to the British audience.
He fathered gifted writers Joan Aiken and Jane Aiken Hodge.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conrad_...
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
January 13, 2025
I picked this book up on a whim because I wanted something to read during my plane ride, and, being in a sour mood, I vaguely remembered the synopsis from when I was doing research on stream-of-consciousness in Joyce last Spring.
The book takes the best of Ulysses but makes it a little bit more accessible; the timeframe is a bit longer, since it covers several days instead of a single one, but it shares the same experimental approach as Joyce, emulating the best of "Proteus," "Circe," and "Penelope." In particular, chapter four, which consists of 80 pages depicting William's internal monologue as he tries, but fails, to fall asleep after learning that his crush is getting married—when she was the very person he was going to see!—was a bit too real: It made me shed a few tears on the plane. As in "Proteus," William reflects on his personal failures and trauma, like the defeated Stephen (to whom one reviewer compared William); as in "Circe," his internal monologue borrows heavily from psychoanalysis, and is full of evocative symbols, like the recurring motifs of crucifixion and Caligula, reminiscent of Bloom's trial; and as in "Penelope," it is not quite as unbroken, but nonetheless this is a hypnagogic consciousness like Molly's.
Aiken was primarily a poet, which put him at an advantage, I believe: This is a dense book. I dare say it's about as dense as Ulysses despite being half the length, that's how rich it is. The first half of the book is a bit like detective work: You can piece together bits of William's psychology from the fragments he drops here and there, forming them into a semi-coherent pattern; but then things really explode during the second half, when his psyche is fully put on display, and what were formerly hints are now brought into play in their full force.
Much like another of my favorite American writers, Thomas Wolfe, Aiken has fallen into something like oblivion. It's difficult to get one's hands on any of his novels. And to my knowledge, from what little research I've done, there seems to be very little critical work on his fiction. Perhaps I can begin to address this lacuna in the future, because just from this book alone, I know there's much to explore and excavate; it's a real shame he's been neglected. Here we have our own American Joyce, and yet he's slept on.
As I was finishing up the book, I was anticipating what I would write in my review, and I'm afraid I've royally failed to live up to my own expectations. Perhaps I haven't processed the book fully as a unity, despite its relative simplicity (in terms of plot); certain moments and motifs spring out to me naturally, but I have yet to grasp it as a synthetic whole, I suppose. It has beautiful prose and rich symbolism; it's incredibly funny at times and made me audibly laugh; it's painfully relatable if you're prone to introspection, self-flagellation, and a sense of personal inadequacy; it's overwhelming and surprising in its fidelity to consciousness.
The book takes the best of Ulysses but makes it a little bit more accessible; the timeframe is a bit longer, since it covers several days instead of a single one, but it shares the same experimental approach as Joyce, emulating the best of "Proteus," "Circe," and "Penelope." In particular, chapter four, which consists of 80 pages depicting William's internal monologue as he tries, but fails, to fall asleep after learning that his crush is getting married—when she was the very person he was going to see!—was a bit too real: It made me shed a few tears on the plane. As in "Proteus," William reflects on his personal failures and trauma, like the defeated Stephen (to whom one reviewer compared William); as in "Circe," his internal monologue borrows heavily from psychoanalysis, and is full of evocative symbols, like the recurring motifs of crucifixion and Caligula, reminiscent of Bloom's trial; and as in "Penelope," it is not quite as unbroken, but nonetheless this is a hypnagogic consciousness like Molly's.
Aiken was primarily a poet, which put him at an advantage, I believe: This is a dense book. I dare say it's about as dense as Ulysses despite being half the length, that's how rich it is. The first half of the book is a bit like detective work: You can piece together bits of William's psychology from the fragments he drops here and there, forming them into a semi-coherent pattern; but then things really explode during the second half, when his psyche is fully put on display, and what were formerly hints are now brought into play in their full force.
Much like another of my favorite American writers, Thomas Wolfe, Aiken has fallen into something like oblivion. It's difficult to get one's hands on any of his novels. And to my knowledge, from what little research I've done, there seems to be very little critical work on his fiction. Perhaps I can begin to address this lacuna in the future, because just from this book alone, I know there's much to explore and excavate; it's a real shame he's been neglected. Here we have our own American Joyce, and yet he's slept on.
As I was finishing up the book, I was anticipating what I would write in my review, and I'm afraid I've royally failed to live up to my own expectations. Perhaps I haven't processed the book fully as a unity, despite its relative simplicity (in terms of plot); certain moments and motifs spring out to me naturally, but I have yet to grasp it as a synthetic whole, I suppose. It has beautiful prose and rich symbolism; it's incredibly funny at times and made me audibly laugh; it's painfully relatable if you're prone to introspection, self-flagellation, and a sense of personal inadequacy; it's overwhelming and surprising in its fidelity to consciousness.
September 16, 2010
Somewhat depressing that Aiken has been completely ignored. Though better known for his poetry, I quite enjoyed this novel and would like to check out more of his prose.
October 4, 2018
A strange novel: at times enjoyable, others real a slog; insightful, mawkish, solipsistic. Evidently in part the (anti)autobiographical thoughts of an artist, the good and the bad. Fractured, tentative, disingenuous, pathetic, stoic. Interesting agonising stream of consciousness on love; obsessive but fickle/roving.
December 9, 2021
I'm calling it finished 2/3 of the way through. I tried, really tried, to make it to the end. This author uses flow of consciousness, and he's a poet, so I think he just had a hard time leaving poetry out of what he said was a novel. Just, no. But later I'll quote some part of it.
August 12, 2024
This "novel" is a Jazz Age poem written in prose about a failed, somewhat mental, writer/poet named Desmond , who , while on a ship from New York to London , pines away about Cynthia, the girl who cut him out of her life to marry somebody else. Being a little mental myself, there was much in here I could relate to.
November 13, 2020
Reading Aiken’s BLUE VOYAGE again, and it makes more sense this time. Not sure if it just took a while to get used to Aiken’s style, or if I’m paying closer attention now, or if it’s because I understand the story better. Regardless, it’s becoming one of those books I’ll return to every couple of years just because it’s so deep, atmospheric and puzzling. Sex, death, eternity, spirituality, religion- it’s all there in one form or another.
As for structure and tone, it moves forward in time, over a series of days, but the voyage is fraught with flashbacks, internal and external conversations, dreams, letters, multiple streams of dialogue vying simultaneously for the reader’s attention. To read this book is to walk into the middle of conversations, stories, relationships and voyages. There’s no beginning and no end; it feels like we’ve been on the ship forever. Though countries are mentioned, the world is this ship, an island isolated from everything in the past or future.
What doesn’t make sense yet are the recurring images/thoughts of crucifixion. Why didn’t Aiken instead speak of self-sacrifice in terms of martyrdom or masochism? To be crucified is not necessarily something that one submits to willingly, like a martyr, but ending up on the cross has never been something one couldn’t avoid, if they put their mind to it. Maybe Aiken is simply implying that a commitment to something like marriage- matrimony or avoidance of the same figure prominently in this tale- is only worthwhile if someone is willing to give up freedom and comfort.
Marriage doesn’t fare well, as an institution, in the book. Smith’s marriage- Smith being a secondary character- failed years before; Demarest (the main character) is a confirmed but unfulfilled, bachelor; Cynthia, his ex-fiancé, is about to be married; one of the ship’s staff is married, but ready to cheat on his wife; the Major stays away from his wife for months at a time; the alluring Faubion is married, but on the cusp of a divorce due to her infidelity. None of the characters in Blue Voyage appear with their spouses- and of all of them, Demarest seems the closest to desiring a meaningful relationship. Yet he seems unable, due to fear or a lack of confidence, to effect the relationship he desires.
As for the characters, one of the most annoying is the geriatric Smith; more pathetic than lecherous, he is the personification of regret. Allegedly on the prowl for women, he is more talk than action. He flirts when he should be charming, charming when he should be genuine, friendly when he should instead be a friend. He seems to be the future that Demarest sees himself destined to become- unless this protagonist can overcome a fear of failure enabled by narcissism. Smith is the closest thing to a friend that Demarest has on board the ship, yet the elderly man is more of a co-conspirator in the quest for sex. To say that Smith is past his prime would be understatement; he is on death’s door, or might as well be, so unable is he to connect with the opposite sex.
I could go on and on, for BLUE VOYAGE is one of those books of which another book could be written, there is so much going on- the author’s psyche embedded everywhere one looks. His affairs, wordplay, poetry career, musings on religion, witnessed deaths in his family, and father-son dysfunction. It’s all there, and put together in such a way that I’ll never get to the bottom of it- not as long as his other puzzler, USHANT, is around.
As for structure and tone, it moves forward in time, over a series of days, but the voyage is fraught with flashbacks, internal and external conversations, dreams, letters, multiple streams of dialogue vying simultaneously for the reader’s attention. To read this book is to walk into the middle of conversations, stories, relationships and voyages. There’s no beginning and no end; it feels like we’ve been on the ship forever. Though countries are mentioned, the world is this ship, an island isolated from everything in the past or future.
What doesn’t make sense yet are the recurring images/thoughts of crucifixion. Why didn’t Aiken instead speak of self-sacrifice in terms of martyrdom or masochism? To be crucified is not necessarily something that one submits to willingly, like a martyr, but ending up on the cross has never been something one couldn’t avoid, if they put their mind to it. Maybe Aiken is simply implying that a commitment to something like marriage- matrimony or avoidance of the same figure prominently in this tale- is only worthwhile if someone is willing to give up freedom and comfort.
Marriage doesn’t fare well, as an institution, in the book. Smith’s marriage- Smith being a secondary character- failed years before; Demarest (the main character) is a confirmed but unfulfilled, bachelor; Cynthia, his ex-fiancé, is about to be married; one of the ship’s staff is married, but ready to cheat on his wife; the Major stays away from his wife for months at a time; the alluring Faubion is married, but on the cusp of a divorce due to her infidelity. None of the characters in Blue Voyage appear with their spouses- and of all of them, Demarest seems the closest to desiring a meaningful relationship. Yet he seems unable, due to fear or a lack of confidence, to effect the relationship he desires.
As for the characters, one of the most annoying is the geriatric Smith; more pathetic than lecherous, he is the personification of regret. Allegedly on the prowl for women, he is more talk than action. He flirts when he should be charming, charming when he should be genuine, friendly when he should instead be a friend. He seems to be the future that Demarest sees himself destined to become- unless this protagonist can overcome a fear of failure enabled by narcissism. Smith is the closest thing to a friend that Demarest has on board the ship, yet the elderly man is more of a co-conspirator in the quest for sex. To say that Smith is past his prime would be understatement; he is on death’s door, or might as well be, so unable is he to connect with the opposite sex.
I could go on and on, for BLUE VOYAGE is one of those books of which another book could be written, there is so much going on- the author’s psyche embedded everywhere one looks. His affairs, wordplay, poetry career, musings on religion, witnessed deaths in his family, and father-son dysfunction. It’s all there, and put together in such a way that I’ll never get to the bottom of it- not as long as his other puzzler, USHANT, is around.
September 13, 2016
William Demarest, a young American playwright and poet, is sailing to England to reconnect with Cynthia, a posh English girl he'd met and spent a few weeks with the previous summer. After he returned home he'd sent her a few letters and a book of his poems that had recently been published, but she never responded. So his decision to cross an ocean to perform the early-twentieth-century equivalent of "Hey, did you get my emails?" seems a bit daft--and this is borne out when, a few days into the voyage, Demarest runs into Cynthia on the ship, and discovers that she has no real interest in him. She is, in fact, engaged to another man. And so the remainder of the book concerns Demarest coming to terms with Cynthia's complete disinterest in him as a suitor.
Tasking the "jilted young man" plot to serve as the foundation for an entire (albeit rather slim) novel requires a little something more to be offered the reader. Fortunately, Aiken had an ear for a well-turned phrase and for lively dialogue, so Blue Voyage, though it rambles, is not without its considerable charms. Several times throughout the more maudlin segments I found myself muttering, "Good lord, man, have some self-respect!" but in retrospect I was probably being too uncharitable. If I think hard enough, I can remember how painful it was to be infatuated with a lovely girl who, for whatever reason, couldn't be bothered to give me the time of day (though, in all honesty, I was in my teens when these infatuations happened, not my late twenties, which is how old I suppose Demarest to be). In any case, Aiken's prose is wonderful enough here to forgive the slightness of plot.
And while I usually find long stream-of-consciousness elements to be skim-worthy, I was impressed by Aiken's astute, thirty-page recreation of how one's brain works while trying to fall asleep but unable to stop thinking about a certain painful occurrence that happened earlier in the day.
A fine first novel. Next up: Great Circle.
FOR POSTERITY (beware spoilers!)
Chapter 1: William Demarest boards an ocean liner headed for England; meets Smith and his other dining companions, including the young firebrand Mrs. Faubion.
Chapter 2: Demarest meets the recently widowed Peggy (a.k.a. the Welsh Rarebit), whom the pianist was hitting on, unsuccessfully, and Silberstein. Smith admits an attraction to Mrs. Faubion.
Chapter 3: Demarest plays chess with the monocled Hay-Lawrence while the slightly irritating Silberstein looks on. Later, Demarest and Smith sneak up to the first-class deck for a stroll and run into Cynthia.
Chapter 4: Long, stream-of-consciousness monologue in which Demarest converses with an imagined Cynthia as he tries, in vain, to fall asleep that night. In a word: misery.
Chapter 5: Several overlapping conversations in the smoking room, as heard by Demarest.
Chapter 6: A Modernist dialogue, in which Demarest imagines discussing lofty concepts, including love, with Cynthia, Faubion, Silberstein, and Smith.
Chapter 7: Demarest writes six increasingly exasperated letters to Cynthia, but sends none of them.
Chapter 8: Demarest sulks in the smoking room while the ship's masquerade ball takes place below deck. He has a late, contentious conversation with Smith, then encounters Mrs. Faubion.
Tasking the "jilted young man" plot to serve as the foundation for an entire (albeit rather slim) novel requires a little something more to be offered the reader. Fortunately, Aiken had an ear for a well-turned phrase and for lively dialogue, so Blue Voyage, though it rambles, is not without its considerable charms. Several times throughout the more maudlin segments I found myself muttering, "Good lord, man, have some self-respect!" but in retrospect I was probably being too uncharitable. If I think hard enough, I can remember how painful it was to be infatuated with a lovely girl who, for whatever reason, couldn't be bothered to give me the time of day (though, in all honesty, I was in my teens when these infatuations happened, not my late twenties, which is how old I suppose Demarest to be). In any case, Aiken's prose is wonderful enough here to forgive the slightness of plot.
And while I usually find long stream-of-consciousness elements to be skim-worthy, I was impressed by Aiken's astute, thirty-page recreation of how one's brain works while trying to fall asleep but unable to stop thinking about a certain painful occurrence that happened earlier in the day.
A fine first novel. Next up: Great Circle.
FOR POSTERITY (beware spoilers!)
Chapter 1: William Demarest boards an ocean liner headed for England; meets Smith and his other dining companions, including the young firebrand Mrs. Faubion.
Chapter 2: Demarest meets the recently widowed Peggy (a.k.a. the Welsh Rarebit), whom the pianist was hitting on, unsuccessfully, and Silberstein. Smith admits an attraction to Mrs. Faubion.
Chapter 3: Demarest plays chess with the monocled Hay-Lawrence while the slightly irritating Silberstein looks on. Later, Demarest and Smith sneak up to the first-class deck for a stroll and run into Cynthia.
Chapter 4: Long, stream-of-consciousness monologue in which Demarest converses with an imagined Cynthia as he tries, in vain, to fall asleep that night. In a word: misery.
Chapter 5: Several overlapping conversations in the smoking room, as heard by Demarest.
Chapter 6: A Modernist dialogue, in which Demarest imagines discussing lofty concepts, including love, with Cynthia, Faubion, Silberstein, and Smith.
Chapter 7: Demarest writes six increasingly exasperated letters to Cynthia, but sends none of them.
Chapter 8: Demarest sulks in the smoking room while the ship's masquerade ball takes place below deck. He has a late, contentious conversation with Smith, then encounters Mrs. Faubion.
August 25, 2011
Modern novel set on a cruise ship. Not bad but not quite by cup of tea. Must read, though, for those studying Canadian literature.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews