Sphinxes & Obelisks

 

Sphinxes & Obelisks by Mark Valentine
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I am always edified by reading a Mark Valentine book. Inevitably, I pick up new words I was unaware of or that I had never paid attention to (Divagation was the first such word in this volume - found on page 1), I learn about obscure authors from Valentines explorations into the recondite corners of literature, in the case of his non-fiction, or the strange corners of irreality in his fiction, and I am always struck by his understated sense of humor, which pops up at the oddest of times (this chronological quirkiness is part of the charm, I suppose). buying a book by Mark Valentine is never a wasted dollar. Reading the introduction to this book alone justified the cost.

The problem, of course, is that Valentine sets my wallet on fire with his discoveries and revelations. The first urge to go hunting here was spurred by the essay on Riccardo Stephens. Last time I followed Valentine's recommendation, I absolutely fell head over heels for the works of Mary Butts, whom I had never heard of before reading about her in Valentine's outstanding Haunted by Books. Tempting. Yet again, so tempting. Get thee behind me Mark Valentine!

Does this mean that I take the Valentine bait hook, line, and sinker? Well, okay, in terms of his fiction and poetry, yes. But his nonfiction, while amazing, sometimes shows holes. For example, Valentine's review of Asquith's anthology The Ghost Book is . . . nothing special, to put it bluntly. Maybe the first instance I've seen of Valentine "phoning it in," as they say. Given the source material, though, no one can blame him. Still, I was a little disappointed with the essay. I suppose that with Valentine's prolific output, one is bound to find a dud. Soon thereafter, the essay on Nephele, or at least the idea of the novel, I found intriguing, but not necessarily compelling.

Thankfully, this was just the warmup act. He soon hits his stride, as one should expect:

In his essay "Phoenician Rites and Chaldee Roots," Valentine carves a labyrinth, a sort of archaeology of an intellectual maze that meanders from Shakespeare to Machen to Homes and Watson. This is the sort of wandering intellectual exercise that I love and that Valentine excels at. What is the thesis? Um. I'm not sure there is one. What is the conclusion? Ditto. Do I care? No. Not all who wander are lost . . .

Anyone, really, could have written the essay "The Summoner of the Sphinx," but only Mark Valentine could do it with such ease and panache! A documentary-style exploration of one of the most memorable magic tricks ever could fall flat quite easily, but here the event is given all the observational filigree it deserves, with some subtle nods to the kitsch, properly ensconcing the event in both its historical context and our modern notions of tomfoolery.

Continuing in the vein of the Valentinian educational program, I think I learned more about William Hope Hodgson in Valentine's essay "The Wonder Unlimited" than I have ever known before. Not biographical details, dates and such, but really about him - his sense of humor, brusqueness, and so forth. An interesting glimpse into the author's personality by way of his most obscure work.

One thing that stood out to me on reading this particular volume is the personal detail that Valentine shares about himself and his work. A very interesting and highly personal essay on "Tin Mine Gothic" provides a peek behind the curtain to see what brought Valentine to his interests (and, ultimately, his own writing). I really enjoyed this. It makes this volume absolutely and unarguably his.

"A Fashion in Shrouds" is just the sort of quirky essay I love. In it, Valentine explores the sartorial choices (or compulsions) of the (un)dead. Through ghost stories, both (supposedly) veridical and literary, Valentine traces the evolution of ghostly dress with a dry sense of humor that causes soft laughs in barely-perceptible whispers on fog-enshrouded moors.

Library ephemera (both personal and public) are the subject of the literally-titled "Stuck in a Book," a delightful examination of the sometimes strange, sometimes ironic physical bits and bobs one finds in a used book. Valentine's insight is keen, his research formidable, and his humor only a touch morbid.

"The Saracen's Head" takes an ubiquitous object - the pub sign - and traces the history of England's fascination with the motif of the Saracen's Head. It's a piece of pseudo-Foucaltian "Archaeology of Knowledge" examining the entrance of the motif into the English public imagination. This is the sort of thing doctoral theses are made of, or could be, if expanded to about 100 times its page count. Fascinating.

Lastly, we are given a fly-on-the-wall view of intrepid bookhunters Mark Valentine and John Howard (who are also two of the best living authors writing today - might I strongly, Strongly, STRONGLY recommend Howard's The Voice of the Air?) as they spend a Sunday looking for hidden treasure in the "Passages in the West". this was fascinating and appropriate at the end of one of Valentine's non-fiction collections. One sees Valentine's encyclopedic knowledge of recondite authors and works at play here, as well as a glimpse into his relationship with a fellow-book lover and the people who sell these paginated treasure chests.



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