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Editor’s Preface
The following work, printed here for the first time, is one of the lost curiosities of nineteenth-century literature. It is a strange concoction, being a kind of confession, often shocking in its frank, conscienceless brutality and explicit sexuality, that also has a strongly novelistic flavour; indeed, it appears in the hand-list that accompanies the Duport papers in the Cambridge University Library with the annotation ‘(Fiction?)’. Many of the presented facts — names, places, events (including the unprovoked murder of Lucas Trendle) — that I have been able to check are verifiable; others appear dubious at best or have been deliberately falsified, distorted, or simply invented. Real people move briefly in and out of the narrative, others remain unidentified — or unidentifiable — or are perhaps pseudonymous. As the author himself says, ‘The boundaries of this world are forever shifting — from day to night, joy to sorrow, love to hate, and from life itself to death.’ And, he might have added, from fact to fiction.
As to the author, despite his desire to confess all to posterity, his own identity remains a tantalizing mystery. His name as given here, Edward Charles Glyver, does not appear in the Eton Lists of the period, and I have been unable to trace it or any of his pseudonyms in any other source, including the London Post-office Directories for the relevant years. Perhaps, after we have read these confessions, this should not surprise us; yet it is strange that someone who wished to lay his soul bare to posterity in this way chose not to reveal his real name. I simply do not know how to account for this, but note the anomaly in the hope that further research, perhaps by other scholars, may unravel the mystery.
His adversary Phoebus Daunt, on the other hand, is real enough. The main events of his life may be traced in various contemporary sources. He may be found, for instance, in both the Eton Lists and in Venn’s Alumni Cantabrigienses, and is mentioned in several literary memoirs of the period — though on his supposed criminal career the historical record is silent. On the other hand, his now (deservedly) forgotten literary works, consisting principally of turgid historical and mythological epics and a few slight volumes of poems and poetic translations, once enjoyed a fleeting popularity. They may still be sought out by the curious in specialist libraries and booksellers’ catalogues (as can his father’s edition of Catullus, mentioned in the text), and perhaps may yet furnish some industrious PhD student with a dissertation subject.
The text has been transcribed, more or less verbatim, from the unique holograph manuscript now held in the Cambridge University Library. The manuscript came to the CUL in 1948 as part of an anonymous bequest, with other papers and books relating to the Duport family of Evenwood in Northamptonshire. It is written, for the most part, in a clear and confident hand on large-quarto lined sheets, the whole being bound in dark-red morocco (by R. Riviere, Great Queen Street) with the Duport arms blocked in gold on the front. Despite a few passages where the author’s hand deteriorates, apparently under psychological duress, or perhaps as a result of his opium habit, there are relatively few deletions, additions, or other amendments. In addition to the author’s narrative there are several interpolated documents and extracts by other hands.
I have made a number of silent emendments in matters of orthography, punctuation, and so on; and because the MS lacks a title, I have used a phrase from one of the prefatory quotations, the source of which is a poem, appropriately enough, from the pen of P. Rainsford Daunt himself. I have also supplied titles for each of the five parts, and for the five sections of the so-called Intermezzo.
The sometimes enigmatic Latin titles to the forty-seven sections or chapters have been retained (their idiosyncrasy seemed typical of the author), though I have provided translations. On the first leaf of the manuscript are a dozen or so quotations from Owen Felltham’s Resolves, some of which I have used as epigraphs to each of the five parts. Throughout the text, my own editorial interpolations and footnotes are given within square brackets.
J.J. Antrobus
Professor of Post-Authentic Victorian Fiction
University of Cambridge
From the Hardcover edition.
Revue de presse :
The following work, printed here for the first time, is one of the lost curiosities of nineteenth-century literature. It is a strange concoction, being a kind of confession, often shocking in its frank, conscienceless brutality and explicit sexuality, that also has a strongly novelistic flavour; indeed, it appears in the hand-list that accompanies the Duport papers in the Cambridge University Library with the annotation ‘(Fiction?)’. Many of the presented facts — names, places, events (including the unprovoked murder of Lucas Trendle) — that I have been able to check are verifiable; others appear dubious at best or have been deliberately falsified, distorted, or simply invented. Real people move briefly in and out of the narrative, others remain unidentified — or unidentifiable — or are perhaps pseudonymous. As the author himself says, ‘The boundaries of this world are forever shifting — from day to night, joy to sorrow, love to hate, and from life itself to death.’ And, he might have added, from fact to fiction.
As to the author, despite his desire to confess all to posterity, his own identity remains a tantalizing mystery. His name as given here, Edward Charles Glyver, does not appear in the Eton Lists of the period, and I have been unable to trace it or any of his pseudonyms in any other source, including the London Post-office Directories for the relevant years. Perhaps, after we have read these confessions, this should not surprise us; yet it is strange that someone who wished to lay his soul bare to posterity in this way chose not to reveal his real name. I simply do not know how to account for this, but note the anomaly in the hope that further research, perhaps by other scholars, may unravel the mystery.
His adversary Phoebus Daunt, on the other hand, is real enough. The main events of his life may be traced in various contemporary sources. He may be found, for instance, in both the Eton Lists and in Venn’s Alumni Cantabrigienses, and is mentioned in several literary memoirs of the period — though on his supposed criminal career the historical record is silent. On the other hand, his now (deservedly) forgotten literary works, consisting principally of turgid historical and mythological epics and a few slight volumes of poems and poetic translations, once enjoyed a fleeting popularity. They may still be sought out by the curious in specialist libraries and booksellers’ catalogues (as can his father’s edition of Catullus, mentioned in the text), and perhaps may yet furnish some industrious PhD student with a dissertation subject.
The text has been transcribed, more or less verbatim, from the unique holograph manuscript now held in the Cambridge University Library. The manuscript came to the CUL in 1948 as part of an anonymous bequest, with other papers and books relating to the Duport family of Evenwood in Northamptonshire. It is written, for the most part, in a clear and confident hand on large-quarto lined sheets, the whole being bound in dark-red morocco (by R. Riviere, Great Queen Street) with the Duport arms blocked in gold on the front. Despite a few passages where the author’s hand deteriorates, apparently under psychological duress, or perhaps as a result of his opium habit, there are relatively few deletions, additions, or other amendments. In addition to the author’s narrative there are several interpolated documents and extracts by other hands.
I have made a number of silent emendments in matters of orthography, punctuation, and so on; and because the MS lacks a title, I have used a phrase from one of the prefatory quotations, the source of which is a poem, appropriately enough, from the pen of P. Rainsford Daunt himself. I have also supplied titles for each of the five parts, and for the five sections of the so-called Intermezzo.
The sometimes enigmatic Latin titles to the forty-seven sections or chapters have been retained (their idiosyncrasy seemed typical of the author), though I have provided translations. On the first leaf of the manuscript are a dozen or so quotations from Owen Felltham’s Resolves, some of which I have used as epigraphs to each of the five parts. Throughout the text, my own editorial interpolations and footnotes are given within square brackets.
J.J. Antrobus
Professor of Post-Authentic Victorian Fiction
University of Cambridge
From the Hardcover edition.
'It has been hard to ignore the proliferation of pseudo-Victorian novels following the success of Sarah Waters. Many have been of indifferent quality, but Michael Cox's debut is an excellent addition to the genre. It is a tale of obsession, love and revenge, played out amid London's swirling smog ... Glyver is an outstanding creation ... Cox lovingly recreates the atmosphere of the period, from grand dinner parties to assignation with ladies of the night ... Yet he never allows period detail to swamp the human drama at the novel's heart' (Daily Mail)
'Murray will present its biggest marketing and publicity campaign for what it calls "the most extraordinary novel of 2006"' (Publishing News)
'The novel has many attractions including its nicely twisted narrator and some of that gothic mystery appeal that helped to make The Shadow of the Wind such a hit.' (The Bookseller, Benedicte Page, Ones to watch)
'An absolute treat from start to finish.' (The Bookseller: Rodney Troubridge)
'Cox evokes the Victorian era effortlessly.' (The Bookseller: Liz Taylor)
'Spellbinding Victorian mystery . . .Dark atmospheric storytelling with wicked twists and turns' (Good Housekeeping)
'An enthralling journey into the depths of Victorian London and the psyche of a man obsessed, Michael Cox's The Meaning of Night will have you hooked from [the] stunning opening line to the thrilling final revelation' (InStyle)
'Cox creates a strong sense of place, a complex narrative full of unexpectedly wicked twists, and a well-drawn cast of supporting characters. His language is mesmerizing, and his themes of betrayal, revenge, social stratification, sexual repression, and moral hypocrisy echo those of the great 19th-century novelists. Written in the tradition of Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White and Sarah Waters's Fingersmith, Cox's masterpiece is highly recommended for all fiction collections' (Library Journal)
'Resonant with echoes of Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens, Cox's richly imagined thriller features an unreliable narrator, Edward Glyver, who opens his chilling 'confession'; with a cold-blooded account of an anonymous murder that he commits one night on the streets of l854 London...Cox's tale abounds with startling surprises that are made credible by its scrupulously researched background and details of everyday Victorian life. Its exemplary blend of intrigue, history and romance mark a stand-out literary debut' (Publishers Weekly)
'A remarkably entertaining treat which begs comparison with the world of Patricia Highsmith' (Kirkus)
'Murray will present its biggest marketing and publicity campaign for what it calls "the most extraordinary novel of 2006"' (Publishing News)
'The novel has many attractions including its nicely twisted narrator and some of that gothic mystery appeal that helped to make The Shadow of the Wind such a hit.' (The Bookseller, Benedicte Page, Ones to watch)
'An absolute treat from start to finish.' (The Bookseller: Rodney Troubridge)
'Cox evokes the Victorian era effortlessly.' (The Bookseller: Liz Taylor)
'Spellbinding Victorian mystery . . .Dark atmospheric storytelling with wicked twists and turns' (Good Housekeeping)
'An enthralling journey into the depths of Victorian London and the psyche of a man obsessed, Michael Cox's The Meaning of Night will have you hooked from [the] stunning opening line to the thrilling final revelation' (InStyle)
'Cox creates a strong sense of place, a complex narrative full of unexpectedly wicked twists, and a well-drawn cast of supporting characters. His language is mesmerizing, and his themes of betrayal, revenge, social stratification, sexual repression, and moral hypocrisy echo those of the great 19th-century novelists. Written in the tradition of Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White and Sarah Waters's Fingersmith, Cox's masterpiece is highly recommended for all fiction collections' (Library Journal)
'Resonant with echoes of Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens, Cox's richly imagined thriller features an unreliable narrator, Edward Glyver, who opens his chilling 'confession'; with a cold-blooded account of an anonymous murder that he commits one night on the streets of l854 London...Cox's tale abounds with startling surprises that are made credible by its scrupulously researched background and details of everyday Victorian life. Its exemplary blend of intrigue, history and romance mark a stand-out literary debut' (Publishers Weekly)
'A remarkably entertaining treat which begs comparison with the world of Patricia Highsmith' (Kirkus)
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
- ÉditeurJohn Murray Publishers Ltd
- Date d'édition2006
- ISBN 10 0719568358
- ISBN 13 9780719568350
- ReliureRelié
- Nombre de pages608
- Evaluation vendeur
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The Meaning of Night : A Confession
Edité par
John Murray, London
(2006)
ISBN 10 : 0719568358
ISBN 13 : 9780719568350
Neuf
Couverture rigide
Edition originale
Signé
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Evaluation vendeur
Description du livre Hardcover. Etat : Very Fine. Etat de la jaquette : Very Good+. First Edition; First Printing. The author's first novel set in England in 1854. Text block is tight with no loose or dog-eared pages. Dust jacket shows a 1" closed tear at top of rear panel of dust jacket and a 1 1/2" diameter label on the front cover that reads "First Edition SIGNED by the author." Dust jacket protected in clear mylar wrapper; bubble wrapped, boxed, and shipped with USPS Tracking (USA only). Signed on title page. N° de réf. du vendeur 001017
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