What's going on here, Edgar Allan?

(Note: I read The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, by Edgar Allan Poe, in a compilation called The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Tales.)

First off, Edgar Allan Poe's only novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, feels like two distinct narratives. The first narrative (Poe 202-304) chronicles various dangerous and horrifying adventures at sea, ending in rescue by a ship named The Jane Guy. The second narrative (304-371) chronicles the (ultimately dangerous and horrifying) exploration of islands in the Southern Indian Ocean near Antarctica.

Within both narratives, there are recurring extremities, like despair or joy, deprivation or deliverance. There is rarely a "happy medium" throughout. At one point, Pym writes in his journal: "In moderate weather we might have easily captured [the shark]." (296) But, the point is, it is not moderate weather and so they do not capture the shark, which remains an imminent danger in Pym's narrative of many "imminent dangers" (270). Which brings me to another recurring issue in Poe's novel--precariousness. From the start, Pym finds himself in dangerously uncertain situations. Hiding on board ship the Grampus has this scary consequence:

My head ached excessively; I fancied that I drew every breath with difficulty; and, in short, I was oppressed with a multitude of gloomy feelings. Still, I could not venture to make any disturbance by opening the trap.... (218; italics mine)

Although Pym does escape this trap, he escapes into an even more precarious situation. More on that later.

The first striking thing is the extremity of Pym's experiences evoked by Poe's language, such as "ravenous appetite," "state of absolute putrefaction" and "great disquietude...disorder of mind" all within six lines of each other on p. 217. And this is only the beginning of one nightmarish situation for Pym. "Disorder of mind" is soon followed by dreams "of calamity and horror," followed by "some huge and real monster," followed by "an overpowering sense of deliverance...." (219-220). Despite this deliverance, Pym has fever and almost intolerable thirst. He becomes almost too feeble to move. Not much later, Pym swings from "exceeding joy" to "extreme horror and dismay" (222, 223). More extreme horrors--about five more--occur, until his rescue by his friend Augustus, at which point Pym swings back to that "exceeding joy" again.

The mutiny on board the Grampus--itself presenting an extreme of butchery--is successfully defeated only after Pym disguises himself as a corpse that "presented in a few minutes after death one of the most horrid and loathsome spectacles...." (259). After this, however, survival remains tenuous, to the point of cannibalism, a "last horrible extremity" (287) that Pym tries to avoid but cannot. This horrible extremity, followed a dozen days later by the horrific death of Augustus, swings to rapture at the sight of a ship, the Jane Guy. After rescuing Pym and Peters, the only survivors left on the Grampus, the Jane Guy diminishes any extremities. A more or less "happy medium," involving exploration of islands in the Southern Indian Ocean, ensues for several months. This does not last, and, by the end of The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, extremely "unusual phenomena" indicating "a region of novelty and wonder" (368) lead Pym and Peters to "a shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions than any dweller among men." (371) Poe has established that extremity--not moderation--is the norm.

Another norm in this narrative is uncertainty. After leaving behind the stability of home on Nantucket, Pym finds himself almost immediately threatened by very precarious situations. If Pym had ventured to make a disturbance by opening the trap, he might have been discovered by the mutineers and thrown overboard. If Pym had not disguised himself as the corpse of Rogers, he, Augustus, and Peters might not have "found ourselves masters of the brig" (265) after all. If Pym et al. had not "lashed themselves firmly to the fragments of the windlass," they would have drowned--"As it was, we were all more or less stunned by the immense weight of water which tumbled upon us...." (268). Indeed, since most of Pym's narrative takes place on the ocean, the forces of wind and water (and sun and sharks) are often the cause of many precarious situations threatening the ships or the lives of its sailors. Nature is as potentially destructive as other human beings. No Peaceable Kingdom is to be found anywhere in this narrative.

Sometimes strategizing does prove effective. We do not have to abandon all hope on entering this narrative. This is not Dante's Inferno--but maybe it is not far from it, either.