Cowperized!

Just a quick note to let all of our prior readers of The Snarl Ledger (who might have become concerned by the resigned and displeased tenor of earlier postings), letting you know that we have nearly completed The Mysterious Mr. I, and, frankly, we wish it would not end. However, there is I, Chameleon to look forward to (a continuation of sorts, no?). Mr. I's global, yet intersection-set (all connected, all interwoven) gumbo of nyms (both pseudo and non), (back)stories told and untold, is a straight-up hoot (yes, a hoot!). We can't wait to see how this things ends...or will it?

Tunnel Vision

13 September, 1936; One Gilrick Sandringham tunnels his way out of Birkdale Insane Asylum --- and, in turn, this world? (Chicago, Illinois).

13 September, 1974 (4:27 pm): One Kyle D. Rafferty tunnels his way into this world at Bellevue Hospital (Niskayuna, New York)

Document XXX

So, as a result of my struggles with Marceau's form (is that it --- simply an issue of "form?"), I have decided to place it by the bedside (for now), leap forward in the Keeler-onology, and crack the spine of The Mysterious Mr. I. Rest assured, I have not completely thrown in the towel regarding the case of Marceau, but rather, I am moving forward in preparation for a later "look back."

In the meantime, as I venture forth, please feel free to respond to my earlier plea.

No comment too minor, no suggestion too small.

Mayday! Mayday!

Okay, I surrender!

I want to like this mystery (I really, really do), but I just can't seem to find the thread(s?), a way in. No matter how much I chip away (and I'm nearly finished) at old Marceau I just can't "hold on" to it. It all seems so...so....so turgid. What am I not getting? I don't want to admit that I am having an allergic reaction to this writer that I find so fascinating. But, the object itself is proving to be a rather obstinate creation.

Can anyone out there lend a hand to a poor, confused, but generous soul, who wants nothing more than to fall completely into Keeler's web? I'm on a slight "break" next week and hope to dedicate some time to further decoding, but I sure could use some guidance. It's a jungle in there. So,what should I be looking for? What am I missing? Is there something wrong with me?

Then again, perhaps this frustration is all part of HSK's plan --- his way of shedding dead weight, of throwing the unworthy off the trail (his trail). But I will not give up, I will not surrender (I thought I just said I was?)!

In closing, this novice/wannabe Keelerite welcomes (and appreciates) all comments and suggestions from you more seasoned/wizened scholars. Won't you please help?

Humbly (and enervatedly),

KDR

The Knews

An Admission (a revelation):

As a new initiate to the Keeler canon I may have not been entirely prepared for the uniqueness (or is it just plain old strangeness?) of the "dossier novels" (e.g. Marceau). Thus my recent frustrations (as vented in my most recent post).

In an effort to understand them, to recalibrate my system and expectations, I am turning to the Richard Polt's supremely thorough and unparalleled, Keeler News. I am turning to those that have come before me, those that have tread these very same mixed-up roads. Specifically, to issue No. 30 "The Marceau Books" (2000). Surely the astute and well-read contributors to this fine publication can shine a light on these strange works, surely they can clear the brush and show me the way! If not they, then who?

Onward!

(Scotland) Yard Work

I have been slowly whacking my way through the thickets of loquacity in The Marceau Case, but have found that its assemblage, its "techinque," if you will, makes the reading (or the enjoyment, at least) rather hard fought. Its sentences are as gnarled (and yes, snarled) as its plot! It lacks the overall propulsiveness of Thieves' Nights and Sing Sing Nights (a certain jaunty rhythm, a speeedy page-turner-ocity, that both texts shared). For all of SSN or TN elaborate and serpentine spinnings, I often felt comfortable in my own confusion, whereas with Marceau I often find myself in varying states of an almost amnesiacal frustration ("Where am I? How did I get here? Where am I going?"). The "who, what, where-ness" of it all (and at a rate of seemingly endless multiplicity) confounds.

Perhaps it is the short story-like form of the previous two books (e.g. three prisoner's each tell a tale) that prevented them from feeling completely enervating as Marceau feels to me now. As soon as one began to feel tiresome or drawn-out it would (usually abruptly) conclude and a new narrative would begin. The two earlier books anthology-like structure mask or contain Keeler's long-windedness, but here the sprawl leads to a more prolongued state of disorientation..or, as seems to be HSK's M.O., anything approaching narrative satisfaction. Although each "Document," each scrap of material seems to be leading somewhere, it lacks the drive or narrative force that we are so accustomed to. It often feels not unlike sifting through an evidence room or reminiscent of the scene in the ever-underrated Pee Wee's Big Adventure where Pee Wee assembles his fellow cohorts for a full evening of "exhibits" ("Exhibit Q: A scale model of the entire mall!") regarding his missing bicycle ("The Alamo...in the basement.").

This is not to say that I completely dislike the book. In fact, I continue to admire its (and his) rigorous commitment to what can be (and often is) a pretty alienating experience --- there is no sure-footedness, no compass clearly pointing the way. I also continue to feel excited by Keeler's energy, his thrill for pouring words onto the page, of weaving his complex plots into a frenzied state of obtuseness. It's infectious. But it can also be exhausting. This was a man who, despite having some kind of readership, seemed to be writing because he couldn't not. This is writing for the pure pleasure of it.

I can only hope that Isaac Anderson (writing a generally positive review in the March 29th, 1936 edition of The New York Times) was right when he wrote, "In this story [Marceau]...there is very good reason for the excess verbiage -- a reason which does not become apparent until we reach the final chapter."

With sickle in hand, I press on.

The Unusual Suspects

Fellow Keelerites:

Fear not dear reader (all one of you), the case has not gone cold. Rather, recent developments have interfered with our best efforts to properly decode the devilish Marceau case. But rest assured, we have resumed our investigation and expect to be fully up-and-running over the coming week or so. For now, we have opted to begin another dizzying directory, this time of the participants and potential perpetrators in the mystery surrounding Monsieur Marceau.

Here 'tis (deep breath):

Gilbert Whittimore: London Correspondent for the All America News Service

Gus Erks: General Manager of the All America News Service

Xenius Jones: The Man at Scotland Yard

Tommy Marsfield: That Stooge that Whittimore Kicks Around

Aleck Snide

Bill Cutterman: Proprietor of Cutterman Detective Agency

Andre Marceau: The Dead Guy

Theophile Marceau: The Dead Guy's Father/One Time Ownr of Marceau Perfumes, Ltd.

Olivier Edward Marceau: The Dead Guy's Nephew

George T. McNulty: The American Neighbor Whose Own Large Yard in Back of His Own House Was Separated from Marceau's Lawn By But a Low Strip of Hedge

Robert, Tad, and Betty McNulty: The Motherless Three Children of George McNulty

Ellen Watson: McNulty's English Servant

Piet Van 'T Veer: The Blind, Aged Hollander and Witness to the Crime

Inspector Claude Sheringham: Inspector of Scotland Yard

Ada Banbury: Andre Marceau's Cook

Mattie Tullivant: One of Marceau's Tow Housemaids

Tedro Grimes: Marceau's Butler

Adam Tweedle: The Old Man of All-Work from Little Ivington

Constable Mullins:

Fleming Bouchier: Assistant-Inspector of Scotland Yard (and on of its three footprint

experts)

Eustace Harwood: Bouchier's Assistant

Peter Glok: Foreman of the Cincinnati, Ohio Star-Graphic"Composing Room

Harry Sturtevant: Feature-Editor of the Cincinnati Star-Graphic

Dumpf Karnossen: Founder of the Cincinnati Star-Graphic and Grandfather of Voorne Karnossen

Voorne Karnossen: Present Owner of the Star-Graphic and From Whom All of Present-Day Cincinnati Society is Said to Have Sprung

Gondersby: A Retired British Sportsman

Jelkins: Gondersby's Man

Netley Kingston and Cyril Blackledge: Two Boys Said to Have Witnessed a Large Aged Infant on an Autogiro on the Edge of Lymewich

Una Meggs: Acquaintance of Grimes and Yet Another Witness

Doctor Maynard Balmerton: The Local Ivington Physician

Inspector Allan Jamison: The Typographical Expert of Scotland Yard

(temporarily suspended due to lack of stamina)