The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, Edgar Allan Poe
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym Edgar Allan Poe
The following entry presents criticism of Poe's novel The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838). See also Edgar Allan Poe Nineteenth-Century Literary Criticism, Edgar Allan Poe Contemporary Literary Criticism, Edgar Allan Poe Short Story Criticism, The Raven Criticism, The Cask of Amontillado Criticism, The Tell-Tale Heart Criticism, and The Fall of the House of Usher Criticism.
The story of an ill-fated sea voyage, Poe's The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, his only novel, has captured the attention of generations of readers with its action-packed plot, imaginative use of symbol and myth, depiction of cannibalism, and numerous unusual occurrences. Poe's subtle handling of irony and ambiguity, as well as his use of a self-conscious narrative technique, have made Pym, the object of much critical study. Scholars admire the peculiar modernity of Pym's ambiguous narrative structure and its presentation of fiction as fact. While Poe himself called the novel “silly,” The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym has come to be recognized as a classic example of metafiction.
Pym was written during a professionally productive period in Poe's life, but it was a time also marked by financial and personal difficulties. While intensely focused on writing and publishing his own work, Poe was employed on the editorial staff of the Southern Literary Messenger in Richmond, Virginia. Poe's personal life was equally active, as he had moved his fiancée, Virginia Clemm, and her aunt from Baltimore to Richmond, and was supporting them as they lived in a boardinghouse in the city. In one year on the Messenger, Poe wrote more than one hundred reviews and editorials, and began an “Autography” series—writing 176 contributions in all. He was also engaged in the time-consuming tasks of editing, corresponding, and proofreading that were necessary for the magazine's production. By December, 1835, he was one of the main editors on the Messenger, no longer merely an assistant. The first two installments of Pym were published in the January and February, 1836, issues of the Messenger. However, after the October and November, 1836, issues were published late, and the December issue never materialized, Poe received notice in January, 1837. He decided to move with his fiancée and her aunt to New York City to seek employment as a freelance writer. Little is known about his life there in 1837 and 1838 except that Poe lived in dire poverty; inflation had caused many magazines to stop publication, thus leaving little opportunity for his work to be published or his editorial skills to be employed. He had been advised by his publishers to create longer work if he wanted to reach a wider audience, so Poe finished Pym in 1837 and it was published in July, 1838. Poe had had a good deal of time to reconsider and refine the work, altering chapter breaks to create suspense and adjusting the time sequence to build symbolism and symmetry in the novel. The book received a few favorable reviews and enjoyed a brief period of popularity in England, but it was generally dismissed by readers and reviewers alike.
Plot and Major Characters
As Pym begins, Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, Massachusetts, and his good friend Augustus Barnard go out on Pym's sailboat, are run down by the whaler ship Penguin, and narrowly escape death. Eager for adventure, Pym then hides as a stowaway in a coffin-like space in the hold of Augustus's father's ship, the Grampus, bound for the South Seas. He has enough food to last him four days, but as those days pass, he discovers that there is no way out to the main deck. He waits—nearly dying of starvation and dehydration—several days for Augustus to return to help him. In the meantime, he discovers that sailors on the Grampus have mutinied and cast off Captain Barnard in a small boat. One of the drunken sailors, Dirk Peters, helps Pym and Augustus to hide and provides them with food. They manage to kill all of the mutineers except one, Parker, but then endure a terrible storm at sea. Although they survive, they are left without food for days. In desperation they draw lots and decide to kill Parker so that the other three men can live off his flesh. In the meantime, Augustus has suffered an arm injury and dies. His body is cast overboard and is devoured by sharks as soon as it hits the water. Peters and Pym, almost dead from thirst and surviving only on barnacles, are eventually rescued by the Jane Guy, a sealing and trading ship from Liverpool bound for the South Seas. They voyage toward Antarctica, but when the weather turns bad, they land on the island of Tsalal, which is inhabited by mysterious and murderous natives who live in complete “savagery.” Everything on the island is of a dark color and the natives display nervousness over anything that is white. To drive off the white men, the natives cause an earthquake by activating a landslide. They drive the sailors off, but follow them to the ship and continue to hunt them there, inadvertently blowing up the ship as they upset some stored ammunition. Only Pym, Peters, and a native they’ve taken hostage survive and escape in a canoe that they find unattended. Drifting south, they enter a warm sea and grow very drowsy as an ashen material continually falls on and around them. Suddenly, the boat rushes into a chasm and a huge white figure with outstretched arms appears in their path. There the narrative breaks off. An appended editorial note explains that Pym died unexpectedly and that the last chapters of the narrative are missing. For the book version of Pym, the narrator (Pym) writes an editorial preface in which he comments that “Mr. Poe,” a well-known editor, had written a narrative based on Pym's experiences more than a year earlier; since these initial episodes were well received by readers, he now offers the rest of the story himself. The readers should have no trouble, he adds, in seeing where Poe's style and his own diverge.
Critics have identified a number of major themes in Pym, and scholarly discussions have ranged over an unusually wide spectrum, including the fields of psychology, mythology, history, science, theology, archeology, linguistics, and deconstuctive criticism. Most commentators agree that the metaphor of death and rebirth—whether in the form of being saved from desperate situations, or merely in drifting in and out of consciousness—constitutes a key theme in Pym. Moreover, survival in the novel seems purely the work of chance, with characters neither helping nor hindering their chances in most cases. Another frequently cited theme in Pym is that of deception, which also encompasses masquerade, illusion, and even trickery. From Pym's hiding in the hold of the Grampus at the beginning of the novel, to the white figure that appears at the end of the narrative, many things are not what they appear to be. There are also numerous biblical references; for example, on Tsalal Pym sees ruins reminiscent of those of Babylon, which has led to interpretations of the island's inhabitants as one of displaced tribes from the Bible. Critics studying the imagery of Pym have frequently cited Freudian and Jungian analyses, with the voyage being a seminal symbol of a journey inward into consciousness, or denoting a return to the womb. Taking into account Poe's own historical context, some scholars have focused on the theme of race in the novel, seizing on the prevalent black and white imagery Poe used in the novel. Some critics have accused Poe of racism in Pym, citing as evidence his alleged pro-slavery writings in the Southern Literary Messenger. Finally, recent critics have emphasized the fictionality of the narrative, interpreting Pym as Poe's elaborate charade on the theme of how reality is created.
Poe's The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym has undergone a remarkable transformation in reputation over the last century. When it was first published and for the remainder of the nineteenth century, it was ignored completely, dismissed as a literary hoax, or deemed just another of Poe's fantastic tales. Poe himself wrote, probably tongue in cheek, that Pym is “a very silly book.” In the second half of the twentieth century, however, Pym has emerged as the most frequently discussed of all of Poe's works. Critics such as Stephen Mainville, Paul Rosenzweig, and William E. Levy have studied Poe's handling of language and gothic imagery and Curtis Fukuchi has explored Poe's use of narrative structure to produce special effects in the novel. In addition to focusing on Poe's style, many critics have discussed his myth making in Pym. Carol Price and Alexander G. Rose III have suggested a Celtic source for the whiteness imagery in the narrative. Poe's scientific ideas have received attention from John Limon, and Paul Lyons has written about the influence of other South Seas narratives on Pym. Contemporary critics have become extremely interested in Poe's depiction of the voyage and in his blurring the line between fact and fiction; G. R. Thompson, among others, has also broached the question of fictitiousness in the novel. Finally, studies of Poe's life and times and of his southern aristocratic leanings, especially his views toward slavery, inform numerous late twentieth century discussions of Poe's novel.
SOURCE: “Poe's Providential Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in ESQ: A Journal of the American Renaissance, Vol. 27, No. 3, 1981, pp. 147-56.
[In the following essay, Fukuchi explores the idea of providence in Pym's thematic and structural design, noting that human actions in the narrative are “played out against [a] divine plan” that renders them ineffectual.]
The ending of The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym has been variously interpreted as a racist allegory, a journey into the depths of the unconscious, a psychological reversion to infancy through return to a maternal figure, a metaphysical journey revealing the meaninglessness, incoherence, or inscrutability of existence, and a spiritual quest for final knowledge or perfect unity.1 The last is closest to the mark, I believe, especially in view of the theological significance at the conclusion of the narrative of the white figure, resembling the Ancient of Days in the Book of Daniel and Christ in the Book of Revelations. Readings suggesting that the figure is divine and that the antarctic journey moves toward a revelation, albeit an abortive one, often see the Tsalalian hieroglyphic chasms as a literal rendering of the religious trope that God has written his “signature” on the landscape and conditions of the Tsalalians.2 Critics have overlooked, however, evidence that a providential design...
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SOURCE: “Language and the Void: Gothic Landscapes in the Frontiers of Edgar Allan Poe,” in Genre: Forms of Discourse and Culture, Vol. 14, No. 3, Fall, 1981, pp. 347-62.
[In the following essay, Mainville examines Poe's handling of language in Pym and the unfinished Journal of Julius Rodman, and focuses on his creation of Gothic landscapes.]
Poe, in his two longer works, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym and the unfinished Journal of Julius Rodman, attempts to create an air of geographical authenticity by including passages from actual explorers' journals.1 In both of these works, the narrators travel into a frontier beyond the bounds of civilized, cultured man. Rodman literally purports to be an account of “the first passage across the Rocky Mountains of North America ever achieved by civilized man,” and Pym, as some critics have suggested, metaphorically disguises the American frontier as a seascape,2 with Pym and his companions sailing into a group of islands in the 84th parallel of the southern latitude, and from there journeying even further south. While it is misleading to suggest that Poe uses the sea and the island of Tsalal as a disguised version of the American frontier, and equally misleading to suggest that he means to present a literal account of a journey into an actual, geographically locatable frontier in...
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SOURCE: “‘Dust within the Rock’: The Phantasm of Meaning in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in Studies in the Novel, Vol. 14, No. 2, Summer, 1982, pp. 137-51.
[In the following essay, Rosenzweig examines the narrative structure of Pym and contends that the narrative constitutes a unified whole, but one that attests to the impossibility of obtaining a final explanation.]
In recent interpretations of The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, much emphasis has been placed upon the ending of Pym's journey and the giant shrouded figure who appears in the last sentence. While critics may adopt different approaches, most seem unable to resist the lure of ascribing an illuminating meaning to both the figure and the ending. Pym's last vision has been interpreted as the acquirement of knowledge which an epistemological approach suggests, the nothingness of an existential reading, or the final rite of initiation of a mythic approach. The figure has been variously identified as the long lost and desired Mother,1 “the apotheosis of the creative imagination itself,”2 the embodiment of Pym's journey toward the ultimate reality,3 the symbol of the final step in Pym's removal from the “world of reality and reason,”4 or “Anthropos … the Primal Man … stand[ing] for the … reunion of the voyager's soul with God or … with the divinity in...
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SOURCE: “How to Place Poe's Arthur Gordon Pym in Science-Dominated Intellectual History, and How to Extract It Again,” in North Dakota Quarterly, Vol. 51, No. 1, Winter, 1983, pp. 31-47.
[In the following excerpt, Limon explores some ways in which Poe's scientific ideas described in his Eureka comment on problems in Pym, but points out that Pym remains firmly rooted in the realm of fiction.]
After a dry spell in the practice of intellectual history, Foucault seems to have brought it back into vogue, though Foucault makes his own intellectual project so different from (say) A. O. Lovejoy's that he may be right to refuse to call it intellectual history at all.1 Lovejoy, of course, defined the intellectual historian's essential task as the tracking of durable unit-ideas “in very diverse provinces of thought and in different periods.”2 Historians after Foucault, however, insist that the same idea in a different intellectual setting is a different idea, just as Pierre Menard's Quixote is not Cervantes'. Lovejoy tells us that “one of the results of the quest of unit-ideas … is, I think, bound to be a livelier sense of the fact that most philosophic systems are original or distinctive rather in their patterns than in their components.”3 But the patterns, we are currently taught, lend meaning to the...
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SOURCE: “Poe's Endless Voyage: The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in Papers on Language and Literature: A Journal for Scholars and Critics, Vol. 22, No. 3, Summer, 1986, pp. 276-83.
[In the following essay, Zanger discusses the influence of Pym on three later narratives: Jules Verne's Le Sphinx des Glaces, H. P. Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness, and Charles Dake's “Hans Pfall.”]
Poe's Arthur Gordon Pym has provided and continues to provide a variety of critical problems to serious readers. Not the least of these is its perhaps unique nature as a completed work which has itself stimulated a variety of new, extended responses from writers as various as Jules Verne, Charles Dake, and H. P. Lovecraft. The “Note” appended to the Narrative, speaking of the missing “two or three final chapters” has, of course, been the formal justification for these attempts to create new endings for the novel, and has even led critics occasionally to refer to the work as incomplete.
This perception of irresolution also stems from the apparent inconclusiveness of the last scene of the novel, which might be reduced to a question that is crucial to the scene: is the great white figure emerging from the mists real or supernatural?
And now we rushed into the embraces of the cataract where a chasm threw itself open to...
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SOURCE: “Poe/Script: The Death of the Author in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in New Orleans Review, Vol. 14, No. 3, Fall, 1987, pp. 51-60.
[In the following essay, Pahl explores Poe's questioning of the idea of selfhood in Pym, as evidenced in his handling of the narrator.]
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym is a text riddled with mysteries, not the least of which involves Pym's seeming annihilation at the story's end:
And now we rushed into the embraces of the cataract, where a chasm threw itself open to receive us [Pym and Dirk Peters]. But there arose in our pathway a shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions than any dweller among men. And the hue of the figure was of the perfect whiteness of the snow.1
Most of the commentary on this passage centers exclusively on the meaning of the “shrouded human figure” and the “perfect whiteness” into which Pym voyages, all to the purpose of bringing a sense of closure, of determinacy, to what is represented as an open-ended text.2 Unsatisfied with the abrupt ending of Pym's Narrative—an ending which leaves much to be answered in regard to the hero's fate—critics have attempted to close the gap in Poe's text with a kind of symbolizing that, depending on the theoretical orientation, has either religious or...
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SOURCE: “P/P … Tekelili: Pym Decoded,” in English Studies in Canada, Vol. 14, No. 1, March, 1988, pp. 82-93.
[In the following essay, Smith discusses Pym using Roland Barthes's critical method of “decoding” and deems the work “a metafictional classic.”]
Modern readers of The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym seem to have evolved into two distinct and contradictory classes. In the first category are what we might call the “hoaxers,” who take Poe at his word about his “silly book” and solve all the cruxes of the text on the basis of a perceived intent to hoax the public with a potboiler adventure fiction. The hoaxers assume that Pym is a deliberate parody of fiction in violation of Poe's well-known critical opinions concerning the tale and its effect; for them it is a longer example of the genre of “A Predicament.” In the second category we have the “Freudian Fryers,” who accept a parodic element in the narrative, but who see it as a superficial overlay, rather like the borrowings from “Mellonta Tauta” in Eureka. They prefer to emphasize the evidence for Poe's self-conscious symbolizing of the text—the shift of dates to achieve a nine-month voyage and the like—thereby emphasizing the archetypal structure of the narrative.1 As a result, criticism of Pym is deadlocked and unproductive, rather like the squabble...
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SOURCE: “End(ing)s and Mean(ing)s in Pym and Eureka,” in Studies in Short Fiction, Vol. 27, No. 1, Winter, 1990, pp. 55-64.
[In the following essay, Miecznikowski cites Poe's Eureka as an “apologia” for Pym, noting that the former work justifies the idea that some mysteries cannot be adequately explained.]
Critics over the past twenty to thirty years have been attentive to the similarity in style and theme between the two longest works of Poe's career: The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838), which may be called a “novel”; and Eureka (1848), which is subtitled “A Prose Poem.”17 Until more recently, however, what Poe calls in Eureka the “propensity for the continuous—for the analogical” has perhaps led many interpreters of these texts “astray” (299-300). Content to adopt the view that Pym “prefigures” Eureka, readers have often shortsightedly viewed the novel through the poetical essay, thus taking for granted that Poe had both works in mind before or while writing Pym. John Carlos Rowe has proposed an alternative, however, to reading Eureka as, in John Limon's words, “the first intellectual-historical criticism”18 of Pym, and what Rowe writes of Pym is applicable to Eureka as well: “What critics have considered difficulties and inconsistencies in...
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SOURCE: “Poe's Arthur Gordon Pym and the Narrative Techniques of Antarctic Gothic,” in CEA Critic, Vol. 53, No. 3, Spring/Summer, 1991, pp. 30-38.
[In the following essay, Lenz suggests that it was Poe, as is particularly evident in his Pym, who discovered the Antarctic as a locale suitable for gothic tales leading to “the deepest regions of our primitive imagination.”]
Edgar Allan Poe is best known for his depictions of extreme states of consciousness. It is easy to forget that he was a successful exploiter of contemporary cultural attitudes and popular literary conventions. Whether we think of the nineteenth-century interest in phrenology, occultism, orientalism, hoaxes, and mesmerism, or the nineteenth-century popularity of lyric poetry and Gothic fiction, Poe is always among the first to capitalize on topical issues and literary trends.
Early in his career, Poe was drawn to the sea narrative; in part, the sea seems to have represented for Poe a metaphorical expression of the individual consciousness cast adrift in a potentially hostile universe. “MS. Found in a Bottle,” Poe's first published story, won the fiction prize of the Baltimore Saturday Visiter in 1833. Poe's technique is to conflate the conventions of sea narratives with those of Gothic fiction. Poe recognized the congruity of the devices of plot underlying each genre: Both make use of the...
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SOURCE: “Poe's Reading of Myth: The White Vision of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in Poe's Pym: Critical Explorations, edited by Richard Kopley, Duke University Press, 1992, pp. 57-74.
[In the following essay, Peirce and Rose explore Poe's use of Celtic mythology in Pym, finding that it transforms the voyage narrative into a “revelation of symbolic vision.”]
Toward its close, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym seems to suffer a sea change. In its early chapters, the work appears a straight, factually oriented account. However, as the novel progresses toward the South Pole and the conclusion, Pym seems to many readers to take on redemptive or apocalyptic imagery. Indeed, it has a strange mythic quality all its own—changing from a gripping sea yarn to a revelation of symbolic vision.
Myth in literature is characterized as either having unconsciously survived or being consciously revived.1 This essay is not concerned, however, with unconscious mythic usage, the province of mythic criticism, but rather with conscious revival—Poe's reading of myth and his possible use of that reading in Pym. Poe himself challenges us to find the inner meaning of his works; an attention to his awareness of myth and his borrowings from myth may help to reveal more clearly the ways his imagination is realized through structure and symbolism. Indeed, this...
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SOURCE: “The Arabesque Design of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in Poe's Pym: Critical Explorations, edited by Richard Kopley, Duke University Press, 1992, pp. 188-213.
[In the following essay, Thompson discusses the narrative structure of Pym and concludes that in his treatment of the idea of epistemology in the narrative, Poe anticipates postmodernist aesthetics.]
The devices of aesthetic fantasy may be conventional or otherwise. In the opinion of Jorge Luis Borges, the most ubiquitous devices of fantastic literature are four: the double, the voyage back in time, the contamination of reality by irreality, and the text within the text.
—John Barth, “Tales Within Tales Within Tales” (1981), reprinted in The Friday Book, (1984)
Early in his career, Poe conceived of an interrelated sequence of experiments with generic forms of popular literature. One of the earliest of these framed-tale collections was called “Eleven Tales of the Arabesque” (1833). With the addition of fourteen more tales, Poe was able in 1839 to publish a volume of narratives as Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque. Critics have (generally though not uniformly) assumed that the latter title indicates a division between comic stories (grotesques) and serious stories (arabesques). But each term has a double meaning, and each...
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SOURCE: “Drink and Disorder in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym,” in Beyond the Pleasure Dome: Writing and Addiction from the Romantics, edited by Sue Vice, Matthew Campbell, and Tim Armstrong, Sheffield Academic Press, 1994, pp. 101-08.
[In the following essay, Mitchell discusses the theme of drinking in Pym, connecting it with Poe's references to biblical authority in justification of nineteenth-century Southern notions of white supremacy.]
According to David Ketterer, in his survey of Pym criticism from 1980-90,1 recent approaches to the text have included psychoanalytical, mythic, psychological, existential, social, formal, hoax-based, satiric and ironic, deconstructive and visionary studies. As far as I am aware, drink is treated as a serious preoccupation in only a few of those readings. Given Poe's reputation, this is rather surprising. The singer Dean Martin once defined sobriety as the ability to lie on a floor without having to hold on, and somehow the image we have of Poe is of a man struggling to maintain his grip, not only on sobriety, but on sanity as well. Rufus Griswold's portrait of the artist as a drug addict and alcoholic, permanently in search of some gutter to stagger into, is, like all depictions of excess, excessive in itself. Poe was certainly never addicted to opium, however much he used it, and he was easily, rather than always, drunk:...
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SOURCE: “The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym and the Ideology of Slavery,” in ESQ: A Journal of the American Renaissance, Vol. 40, No. 3, 1994, pp. 219-50.
[In the following essay, Worley explores Pym as a novel “singularly concerned with race” in the context of Poe's views on slavery, and contends that the narrative undermines its own pro-slavery subtext.]
In September 1835, John C. Calhoun, with characteristic gentility, declined Thomas W. White's offer to write for the Southern Literary Messenger: “Tho’ I have not been a reader of the Literary Messenger, I am not a stranger to the reputation, which the work and its author have acquired; and I would with pleasure comply with your request to add my contribution to its contents, if the extent of my publick & private engagements, which fully occupy my time, did not forbid.”1 White was unaware that although he lost the service of one great figure, he had only a month before acquired one whose name would become even more famous, for in August 1835 he hired Edgar Allan Poe. But not, as he told Lucian Minor, “as editor.” Poe, White explained, “is unfortunately rather dissipated—and therefore I can place very little reliance upon him. His disposition is quite amiable. He will be some assistance to me in proof-reading—at least I hope so.”2 The prospect, albeit an unrealized one, of housing...
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SOURCE: “Opening Accounts in the South Seas: Poe's Pym and American Pacific Orientalism,” in ESQ: A Journal of the American Renaissance, Vol. 42, No. 4, 1996, pp. 291-326.
[In the following essay, Lyons examines the influence of several contemporary South Seas narratives on Pym, linking the whole genre with American colonial policy and expansionism.]
Talking one day of a public discourse, Henry remarked, that whatever succeeded with the audience, was bad. I said, “Who would not like to write something which all can read, like ‘Robinson Crusoe’; and who does not see with regret that his page is not solid with a right materialistic treatment, which delights everybody.”
Accounts of encounters with Pacific peoples in antebellum texts by Euro-Americans are marked and marred by anxiety. In discovery narratives, government documents, and popular fiction alike, the Pacific emerges as a theater in which regressive and deathly American fantasies of laissez-faire capitalism and Jacksonian speculation play out under the guise of scientific research or juvenile adventure. Where, in nineteenth-century novels, these fantasies involve “race,” they become openly fetishistic, as if racial representations must return uncannily, cutting through parody's defensive humor....
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Black, Lynette C. “Pym's Vision Transcribed by ‘Le Bateau Ivre.’” In Mississippi Quarterly 41, No. 1 (Winter 1987): 3-19.
Discusses Pym's influence on Arthur Rimbaud's poem, “Le Bateau Ivre.”
Berressem, Hanjo. “Godolphin, Goodolphin, Goodol'phin, Goodo'Pyn, Good ol' Pym: A Question of Integration.” In Pynchon Notes 10 (October 1982): 3–17.
Discusses the interrelationship between Pym and Thomas Pynchon's novel V., and asserts that Pynchon uses Pym as a source.
Carmichael, Thomas. “A Postmodern Genealogy: John Barth's Sabbatical and The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym.” In University of Toronto Quarterly 60, No. 3 (Spring 1991): 389-401.
Examines Poe's Pym and Barth's novel Sabbatical, concluding that both are characterized by blurred narrative voices.
Dameron, J. Lasley. “Poe's Pym and Scoresby on Polar Cataracts.” In Resources for American Literary Study 21, No. 2 (1995): 258-60.
Cites William Scoresby Jr.'s Journal of a Voyage to a Northern Whale Fishery (1823) as a source for Poe's depiction of the “cataract” effect in Pym.
Hollister. Michael. “Melville's Gam with Poe in Moby-Dick: Bulkington and Pym. ” In...
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