To win the right to a name, he fought - without weapons - the dreaded beast. Only to be cheated of his prize. Branded a criminal he sought refuge with a mysterious clan of intergalactic revolutionaries - and found his heritage at last. As Blacklantern he was born again. And with his beloved Snowfire, set out to burn his vengeance on a universe of evil...
John Stewart Williamson who wrote as Jack Williamson (and occasionally under the pseudonym Will Stewart) was a U.S. writer often referred to as the "Dean of Science Fiction".
Although dated, published in 1958, this work provided the singular pleasure of being free of Deconstruction's double-speak and Continental theories, ideologies, and psycho-babbling obscurities. While, I would have wanted more discussion on Moby- Dick, I am, nevertheless, content with the critical appreciations of Hawthorne, Poe, and Melville offered here.
I'm rather surprised at just how bad this is. The one thing it has going for it is the world-building. Jack Williamson seems to have a definite background in mind, some planet called Nggongga that is reached through portals now. It reads like a version of mid-twentieth century Africa. Williamson also has a cast of characters with set backgrounds. But that's all this novel has going for it.
The storytelling itself is the main problem. Determining who the main character is, the protagonist, was not possible for me in the first thirty pages. There is a fight against some dangerous, dragon-like creature called a tly that transpires. But the stakes of the fight are unclear. The danger that was presented was made to go away seemingly for the sake of the plot after the battler lost. Other characters with unexplained motives do things. And the first part ended.
What also ended was my confidence this writer knows his job. DNF'ed this sucker. Onwatds.
It took me a while to trudge through this Manichean explanation, because, as it balances against three distinct but similarly isolated American minds, it has both the sensation of a literary lullaby and a heavy assertion. Best read when well read in the three authors as the works are examined and explored both stylistically but more-so with a plotcentric gaze (in example, I enjoyed reading about Poe and Hawthorne who I am more widely familiar with than reading of Melville). Although at times primitive in stringing together the dark ties of an unbounded freneticism, The Power of Blackness searches more deeply within the superego of these (and many other) authors; it gives the sense of wonder for American writing that keeps you rooting backwards, tumbling towards the past.
There are only a few books of literary criticism that I am ever tempted to reread. Harry Levin’s The Power of Blackness is one of them. It captures better than any book I have read the yin-yang interplay in the American soul of the dour Puritan’s perception of a howling spiritual wilderness with our illusory sunny romantic optimism. His first chapter is titled “The American Nightmare,” which may be what becomes of the American Dream. Levin notes that love stories are rare in Poe, Hawthorne, and Melville. They often have a dark, ironic twist: Hester Prynne’s deadly affair with Dimmesdale, Poe’s morbid fascination with dead girls, and outcast Ishmael, first in bed with Queequeg and then afloat on his lifesaving coffin. Levin is an eclectic critic, using all the tools of formalism (especially image study), biographical criticism, and the emerging fields of comparative literature and culture criticism. His prose is clear and without pretension. 5 stars.
Enlightening essays on Hawthorne, Poe, and Melville. Perhaps analyses that were ahead of their time - interested in the racial, homoerotic, and liberal viewpoints of these authors, while also showcasing their darker sides. Levin contextualizes the authors' stories and novels in the American literary scene too, before and after them, by touching on Henry James and Ernest Hemingway, Walt Whitman and Washington Irving. Learning!
I'm actually a little shocked at how unhinged this book was. It utterly lacked direction and had not a few terribly flat characters. A bit of a shame, considering how few classic sci-fi books I've read. I'll take this as yet another reminder to exercise more caution in picking up novels, even if the author is a so-called "Dean of Science Fiction."
"A searching reinterpretation of the classic American masters of fiction -- maintaining that the characteristic mode of American writing is not the realistic novel, but the imaginative, symbolic romance." --back cover quote from NY Post.