Of Time and the River
Of Time and the River
The following entry presents criticism of Wolfe's novel Of Time and the River: A Legend of Man's Hunger in His Youth (1935). For discussion of Wolfe's complete career, see TCLC, Volumes 4 and 13; for discussion of his novel Look Homeward, Angel, see TCLC, Volume 29.
Of Time and the River has in common with Wolfe's other novels several features that have contributed to his reputation as one of America's leading twentieth-century authors: vividly drawn characters; a universal theme—the lonely individual in search of knowledge, experience, and self-sufficiency—given epic scope through its development against an American landscape that is powerfully depicted as at once magisterial and brutal, fascinating and terrifying; and a sensuous, exuberant prose style characterized by lyrical passages that have frequently been compared to the poetry of Walt Whitman. Autobiographical in content, Of Time and the River is a continuation of Wolfe's first novel, Look Homeward, Angel (1929), in which he portrayed his coming of age through the character of Eugene Gant. In Of Time and the River, Gant, now an aspiring writer, leaves his home in a small southern town and embarks on a pilgrimage to find the source of his creative inspiration and the true meaning of American life. Although Of Time and the River was published to mixed reviews, it received the attention of major literary critics, and it was also the only one of Wolfe's books to reach the best-seller lists in the United States.
Plot and Major Characters
The narrative of Of Time and the River closely follows the events of Wolfe's own life from 1920 to 1925. The novel, which ran to 912 pages in its first edition, is divided into eight books, the titles of which are borrowed from myths and legends that provide insight into the various stages of Eugene's pilgrimage. When the story opens, Eugene is preparing to board a northbound train that will take him from his hometown of Altamont, Catawba (modeled after Wolfe's hometown of Asheville, North Carolina) to Harvard University, where he intends to study writing in a graduate program. Along the way, Eugene stops to visit his dying father in a Baltimore hospital; Wolfe's account of Old Gant's traumatic death from cancer later in the novel is considered one of the work's most powerful scenes. After three years at Harvard, Eugene returns to Altamont for a summer, awaiting news from a Broadway producer to whom he has submitted one of his plays. When the play is rejected, Eugene accepts a position as an English instructor at the downtown branch of New York University in order to support himself until he is discovered as a writer. However, he soon becomes disillusioned with the city, which he considers impersonal, corrupt, and dirty, and, in his continuing search to find fulfillment as both a man and writer, he journeys to Europe. He first visits England and then travels to Paris, where he encounters his close friend from Harvard, Francis Starwick. Eugene, Starwick, and two female companions travel around Paris and the French countryside for a while, but before long Eugene becomes disgusted with their dissipated lifestyle and breaks away from the group. He then spends some time alone in the southern provinces of France, finding new insight into his vocation as a writer. At the novel's close, as Eugene is embarking on his journey home to America, he sees an unidentified woman who, he tells the reader, is destined to become his lover.
Pilgrimage is the central theme of Of Time and the River. According to Wolfe in The Story of a Novel (1936), an essay in which he describes his life as a writer and the composition of Of Time and the River, the primary object of Eugene's quest is his "search to find a father, not merely the father of his flesh, not merely the lost father of his youth, but the image of a strength and wisdom external to his need and superior to his hunger, to which the belief and power of his own life could be united." Thus, Wolfe's idea of a father has both literal and figurative meaning, and critics have interpreted the concept variously: as the fatherland, America; as the meaning of life; as the means of access to Eugene's buried creativity; as the security of childhood. Another important theme in the novel is time. As Wolfe explained in The Story of a Novel, he sought through Eugene's odyssey to work out a three-part vision of time: time present (the actual events of the novel); time past, which refers to all the accumulated experience that conditions and shapes the present (Eugene's memories); and time immutable, the eternal time of rivers, oceans, and forests (Eugene's desire to immortalize his memories through his art). A dominant aspect of Eugene's obsession with time is his fear of loss, which is evoked through both incident and imagery: Eugene's profound sorrow at the death of his father; symbols such as smoke and dreams, which represent the transiency of human life; and recurrent metaphors of death and resurrection. Critics have also pointed out other significant themes in the novel, including Eugene's love of America, his Faustian thirst for knowledge, and the element of flight or escape—from the South to the North, from America to Europe, from one social milieu to another—that attends his pilgrimage.
In The Story of a Novel, Wolfe tells how Of Time and the River brimmed forth from him "for almost five years like burning lava from a volcano." By December, 1933, Wolfe had written over a million words, and he and his editor at Scribner's, Maxwell Perkins, began the difficult task of cutting back the manuscript to publishable size. The process was slowed by Wolfe's reluctance to delete any material and by his desire to wait another season before sending the book to press. Typically, Perkins would excise long passages, usually where he felt that Wolfe's language was overly poetic, and Wolfe would respond with revisions that were even longer than the originals. Perkins, working in conjunction with a copy editor, eventually sent the manuscript to the printer in October 1934 without Wolfe's final consent, and the book was published in March 1935. Initial critical reaction to Of Time and the River, while lavish, was mixed. A number of reviewers praised the power and beauty of Wolfe's rhapsodic, elegiac style, viewing the novel's raw energy as confirmation of the talent displayed in Look Homeward, Angel, but they objected to Wolfe's lack of rhetorical restraint, complaining that he invested even the most trivial details with monumental significance. Many reviewers felt that the long poetic passages were out of place in a novel; the book's lyricism, combined with its episodic nature, caused some critics to question whether Of Time and the River could properly be called a novel at all. The most famous contemporary review of Of Time and the River was Bernard DeVoto's landmark attack against Wolfe in the Saturday Review of Literature. Entitled "Genius Is Not Enough," DeVoto's indictment of Wolfe was based on the author's record of his working methods and relationship with Perkins in The Story of a Novel. DeVoto, while acknowledging that Wolfe possessed genius of the passionate, romantic sort, offered Of Time and the River as proof that Wolfe was undisciplined and incapable of restraining his emotions or of organizing his material into a coherent whole. DeVoto's conclusions were widely accepted for several years after the publication of his essay, and to this day the stereotype of Wolfe as a poor craftsman persists. Later critics have continued to be preoccupied with the apparent formlessness of Of Time and the River and with the question of Wolfe's editorial dependence, but in general they have judged the novel to be less disconnected than early reviewers, many arguing that Of Time and the River has a coherent design that derives from the unifying motif of the pilgrimage and the themes that represent the objects of Eugene's quest. In addition, critics note, the loose structure allowed Wolfe to interrupt the narrative with poetic meditations that developed his ideas on the diversity of the American landscape and population. One aspect of Of Time and the River that critics have tended to agree upon over the years is its characterization. Wolfe has been consistently praised for his skill at portraiture, especially for his effective blending of satire and affection and for his attention to the seemingly minor details of speech, habit, and dress that can capture the essence of personality. Popular and critical interest in Of Time and the River steadily declined after its much-hyped publication, largely because of increasing enthusiasm for Look Homeward, Angel. Today, Of Time and the River continues to be overshadowed by Look Homeward, Angel—a fact that some critics attribute to the latter's more traditional structure—but fans of Of Time and the River predict that the novel only serves to benefit from the recent resurgence of interest in Wolfe's writings as a whole.
SOURCE: "Thomas Wolfe," in The New Yorker, Vol. XI, No. 4, March 9, 1935, pp. 68-70.
[In the following review of Of Time and the River, Fadiman discusses the strengths and weaknesses of Wolfe's style and characterization and comments on the novel's themes.]
If, as a child, you ever clambered out of the thrill-car of a death-defying scenic railway, you may recall the curiously divided state of your emotions. It was a tossup as to whether you felt excited beyond the point of endurance or just enormously tired. Emerging at this instant from the nine-hundred-and-twelfth page of Thomas Wolfe's long-awaited Of Time and the River, I have very much that scenic-railway feeling, at once feverish and groggy. Just watching Mr. Wolfe release his magnificent, inexhaustible energy leaves one flushed and punchdrunk. It will be some time before the literary bookkeepers have cast up their accounts and told us just how good a novel he has written. What matters right now to most readers is that he gives you an experience you can't just file away under Miscellaneous.
Of Time and the River is a sequel to Look Homeward, Angel, following the fortunes of Eugene Gant, its young hero, through the years 1920 to 1925. Mr. Wolfe has taken five years to write about these five years. He is now nearing thirty-five and his autobiographical hero, when we leave him, is twenty-five, so Mr. Wolfe...
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SOURCE: "Estimates of the Living," in Seven Years' Harvest: Notes on Contemporary Literature, Farrar & Rinehart, 1936, pp. 133-70.
[In the following essay, which was first published in 193S, Canby remarks on the dual nature of the style and content in Of Time and the River.]
There was much laughter when years ago D. H. Lawrence in his Studies in Classical American Literature described an Old Indian Devil who was always plaguing the great Americans with sudden flushes of paganism, great resurgences of sex, and obstinate maladjustments between their European souls and their unfenced continent. It is not so funny now, for some devil, Indian, Marxian, or psychoanalytic, has surely been torturing the best American writers of our era. They squirm, they lash, they spit out filth and imprecations, they whine, they defy. They are not at ease in this Zion of our ancestors.
For Thomas Wolfe in his recent novel, Of Time and the River, the curse is impotence. There is for him a brooding loneliness in the American landscape which drives the manmass into a nervous activity of hurrying on trains, motors, subways, airplanes, a restlessness which drives the sensitive writer into an agony of frustration because the towns, the cities, the countryside oppress him with unrealized and inexpressible energy. It is a country that grips the imagination and lets the heart go, a country in which...
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SOURCE: "The Hamlet of Thomas Wolfe," in The Enigma of Thomas Wolfe: Biographical and Critical Selections, edited by Richard Walser, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1953, pp. 120-32.
[In the following essay, which was first published in the American Review in 1935, Warren assesses Wolfe's capabilities as a writer, focusing on his presentation of character.]
Thomas Wolfe owns an enormous talent; and chooses to exercise it on an enormous scale. This talent was recognized promptly enough several years ago when his first novel, Look Homeward, Angel, came from the press to overwhelm a high percentage of the critics and, in turn, a high percentage of the cash customers. Nor was this sensational success for a first novel undeserved, even if the book was not, as Hugh Walpole suggested, as "near perfect as a novel can be." Now Mr. Wolfe's second novel, Of Time and the River, appears, and the enthusiasm of the reception of the first will probably be repeated; though, I venture to predict, on a scale scarcely so magnificent. That remains to be seen; but it may not be too early to attempt a definition of the special excellence and the special limitations of the enormous talent that has produced two big books and threatens to produce others in the near future.
If Mr. Wolfe's talent is enormous, his energies are more enormous, and fortunately so. A big book is...
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SOURCE: "Thomas Wolfe," in The Canadian Forum, Vol. XV, No. 180, January, 1936, pp. 24-5.
[In the following excerpt from a review of Of Time and the River, Glicksberg examines Wolfe's prose style.]
Of Time and the River is an astonishing book. It towers like a rugged mountain above the contemporary literature landscape. Whatever the critics have said or may still say about it, they seem to agree on one point: it is imbued with an extraordinary vitality and it is instinct with lyricism and splendor. It is the work of a man drunk with the wine of life, intoxicated with the rich multiplicity of sensations, emotions and thoughts. Indeed, it is this almost frenzied vehemence, this unbridled excess of emotion and perception which so definitely stamps his work as individual.
The reaction to the naturalistic novel with its emphasis on psychopathology, was bound to come. Naturalistic fiction lacks exaltation, the tragic intensity of vision which makes man of central importance in the universe. It is bitter and pessimistic in its conclusions. But the tide turned with the advent of Anthony Adverse. That dreamlike allegory of adventure and love in a glamorous past, in a world of refined sensuality and wealth and noble striving, paved the way for Of Time and the River. The popularity of the latter novel is understandable. It is the saga of youth, superbly told, catching...
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SOURCE: "The Legend of a Man's Hunger in His Youth," in Thomas Wolfe, New Directions Books, 1947, pp. 23-76.
[In the following excerpt, Muller compares Of Time and the River to Look Homeward, Angel in order to illustrate Wolfe's development as a writer.]
Up to a point, Of Time and the River may be considered as of a piece with Look Homeward, Angel—another huge length sliced off the story that Wolfe apparently will go on writing forever… I should pause to remark that he is indeed taking an unconscionably long time in growing up. Of Time and the River still reads like a first novel. Although published six years after Look Homeward, Angel, it is full of the same extravagances and is not a more finished technical performance; Wolfe appears to have learned little or nothing about his craft. Offhand, in fact, Look Homeward, Angel comes off better in a comparison. It remains the most unified of his novels, lyrically and dramatically, because it naturally falls into a simple pattern. It covers a natural stage in a man's life; it tells with whole-hearted intensity the story of growing pains, which to the youth are very complicated but to the grown man an old story. By contrast, Of Time and the River is an arbitrary slice of a man's life, with practically no plot unity, no climax, no dramatic beginning, middle and end. It has more breadth and variety...
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SOURCE: "Wolfe's Of Time and the River," in The Explicator, Vol. XVIII, No. 2, November, 1959, Item #9.
[In the following essay, Halperin comments on the artistic unity of the train episode in Book I of Of Time and the River.]
The train episode in the opening section of Of Time and the River appears, at first glance, like a series of disjointed fragments. Now covering some eighty pages, it originally was, according to Wolfe's own admission in The Story of a Novel, many times that length. Here I intend to show how this episode is organized into an artistic whole through (1) the use of characters representing certain ideational values, and (2) the pattern of the protagonist's discoveries.
The episode begins aboard a New York-bound train. As he is being carried further away from the hills of Altamont, Eugene Gant ponders on the unreality of things. The faces and voices of friends and kinsmen back home seem "far and strange as dreams." Gradually, the continuous rhythm of the train's movement through space stimulates him to muse on the mystery of time, which is compared to the South of his boyhood. Both are "buried," "silent," "dark." Thus at this point in the episode, the hero, having escaped from home, from the circumstances which were frustrating his development, feels "lost," lacking in identity and purpose.
Escaping from these disquieting thoughts,...
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SOURCE: "Of Time and the River: The Final Editing," in Critical Essays on Thomas Wolfe, edited by John S. Phillipson, G. K. Hall & Co., 1985, pp. 57-65.
[In the following essay, Skipp examines the various deletions Maxwell Perkins made to Wolfe's typescript of Of Time and the River, finding that the cuts provide insight into both Perkins's editorial style and Wolfe's characteristics as a writer.]
Toward the end of December 1933 Thomas Wolfe and his editor at Charles Scribner's Sons, Maxwell Perkins, began to prepare for publication more than a million words of what Wolfe called Of Time and the River. Although Wolfe went on writing to the extent of about 500,000 words during the months that followed, by the early fall of 1934 Perkins, cutting en bloc, produced a working typescript of about 415,000 words.
The book was in galleys by October, but the typescript had gone to the printer bearing the marks of 142 additional cuts which shortened it by some 33,500 words. Lyrical prose that made the story line go slack came out. So did residual pockets of what Perkins apparently considered to be banal, irrelevant, redundant, or in bad taste. To analyze this cutting-in-detail, the evidence of which survives upon the typescript, is to enlarge our understanding of Perkins as an editor and Wolfe as an author.
On leaves 437-40 Perkins placed...
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SOURCE: "In Search of the Country of Art: Thomas Wolfe's Of Time and the River," in A Gallery of Southerners, Louisiana State University Press, 1982, pp. 85-106.
[In the following essay, Rubin discusses Eugene Gant's artistic inspiration in terms of his experience of various social milieus in Of Time and the River.]
Thomas Wolfe's long second novel has never been mistaken for a harmoniously shaped, unitary work of fiction. Sprawling, episodic, uneven, often greatly overwritten, Of Time and the River contains, as is often said, some of Wolfe's best and some of his worst writing.
With the notion that it is indeed an up-and-down affair, sometimes very much overburdened, I have no quarrel. What I would contend is that, whatever its artistic sins, it is not merely the impressionistic anthology of a volatile artistic sensibility, an unshaped narrative achieving such coherence as it possesses only through the force of the author's personality. It is concerned with something of notably more specificity than a young artist's wanderjahre on two continents; nor is that something merely the protagonist's discovery of his love for America, as is so frequently asserted. What it involves is a young American writer's flight from a very detailed and palpable social milieu—his involvement in a middle-class southern community—and his subsequent effort to discover a better place in...
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SOURCE: "Thomas Wolfe's Of Time and the River: The Quest for Transcendence," in Thomas Wolfe: A Harvard Perspective, edited by Richard S. Kennedy, Croissant & Company, 1983, pp. 3-20.
[In the following essay, Hagan addresses the issue of the novel's structure, concentrating on Eugene's obsession with time and his quest to transcend the limits of mortality.]
"In a system where things forever pass and decay, what is there fixed, real, eternal? I search for an answer …"
—Letter to Horace Williams,
September 9, 1921
Criticism today has left Of Time and the River largely ignored, Thomas Wolfe's reputation—such as it is—resting almost exclusively on Look Homeward, Angel. There are several reasons for this unfortunate situation. In part, of course, it is simply the result of current taste and academic fashion. But paramount among its deeper causes is the fact that ever since its publication in 1935 Wolfe's second novel has been almost unanimously assailed for its "formlessness." Some critics have even gone so far as to deny that it is a novel at all. The latter view is obviously arbitrary and extreme, but the first is so plausible that any attempt to question it might seem to be perverse revisionism. Nevertheless, it may be that our detailed knowledge of the extremely disorderly way...
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SOURCE: "What the Galley Proofs of Wolfe's Of Time and the River TA Us," in The Thomas Wolfe Review, Vol. 9, No. 2, Fall, 1985, pp. 1-8.
[In the following excerpt, Kennedy examines the galley proofs of Of Time and the River for the light they shed on the final version of the novel, Wolfe's relationship with his editors, his work habits, and his talents as a writer.]
The story is well known how Maxwell Perkins, senior editor at Scribner's, helped Thomas Wolfe put together his second novel, Of Time and the River, and how Wolfe, ever ready to add more material to this excessively long book, was reluctant to let his manuscript go to the printers. As time goes on and more evidence turns up, it becomes possible to see in more detail the situation that prevailed in the bringing forth of this remarkable book. Both Wolfe and Perkins have recorded statements that blurred or distorted the picture. Wolfe asserted dramatically in The Story of a Novel that Perkins had suddenly sent his book to the printers while Wolfe was away on a two-week vacation in October 1934. When he returned, galley proof was beginning to come in. Perkins has provided information about Wolfe's unwillingness to see his book go into print. He wrote that Wolfe sat in the Scribner library day after day brooding over the galley proofs but not doing anything with them and that the proofs were read by another Scribner...
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SOURCE: "The Critical Reception of Of Time and the River," in The Thomas Wolfe Review, Vol. 11, No. 1, Spring, 1987, pp. 45-54.
[In the following excerpt, Johnston discusses Bernard DeVoto's assessment of Of Time and the River in relation to Scribner's marketing campaign for the novel.]
Bernard DeVoto's "Genius Is Not Enough" [The Saturday Review of Literature, April 25, 1936], a review of [Of Time and the River usually referred to hereafter as T/R] thinly disguised as a review of The Story of a Novel, focused on seven points: (1) the rawness or "placental" nature of the work, (2) Wolfe's contempt for the medium, (3) giantism, (4) infantilism, (5) editorial collaboration, (6) abdication of authorial responsibility in the revision process, and (7) the fact that Wolfe had been presented to the reading public as a genius. The review was illustrated with a portrait of a grinning, shirtsleeved DeVoto, pistol-in-hand, supposedly taking aim at the young Wolfe. DeVoto later wrote that he regretted and had not approved the use of the photograph, which had been sent to the offices of The Saturday Review of Literature [SRL] by an ill-advised publicity man at Little, Brown [see The Letters of Bernard DeVoto, edited by Wallae Stegner].
Most of the charges were not unique. The few readers who chose to participate in an SRL poll, voting on...
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Donald, David Herbert. Look Homeward: A Life of Thomas Wolfe. Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1987, 579 p.
A study of Wolfe's life and career that Donald claims is more complete than any previous biography because he had access to all of Wolfe's papers and correspondence with Aline Bernstein and because he was at liberty to speak frankly about Wolfe's close relatives, all of whom had died by the time this book was written.
Nowell, Elizabeth. Thomas Wolfe: A Biography. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1960, 456 p.
Important biography by Wolfe's agent and the editor of the 1956 collection The Letters of Thomas Wolfe. Nowell's chapter on Of Time and the River discusses contemporary critical reaction to the novel and its effect on Wolfe.
Field, Leslie A., ed. Thomas Wolfe: Three Decades of Criticism. New York: New York University Press, 1968, 304 p.
A collection of twenty-three essays on Wolfe, along with a bibliography of criticism on his works. The volume contains two essays specifically devoted to Of Time and the River, and commentary on the novel can also be found in more general essays that address Wolfe's themes and style.
Gurko, Leo. "Of Time and the River," in his Thomas Wolfe: Beyond the Romantic Ego pp. 79-107....
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