The Carp Castle

by MacDonald Harris

This brilliant unpublished novel was only recently discovered in the (deceased) author’s papers.

“It’s a delight. It could be by no-one else — the combination of effortless technical detail and delicate emotional perception is utterly MacDonald Harris, and so is his sense, marvellously deployed here, of the simultaneous tenderness and absurdity of love. His sympathy for such a range of characters in their crazinesses, their various kinds of loneliness, their sheer comedy is wonderful. I think it’s one of his very best; what a pity he didn’t live to see it published.” — Philip Pullman

MacDonald Harris’s novel is set in the 1920s against a backdrop of airships, mysticism, erotic love and a Europe that is picking itself up after WW1.

The narrative is so richly imagined that the reader cannot help but be propelled along with the extraordinary characters who make up the crew and passengers aboard the League of Nations airship.

The Carp Castle was completed shortly before the author’s death in 1993 and then seems to have disappeared. Its re-emergence follows the very successful re-publication of Harris’s most successful book The Balloonist, which left critics asking for more, and is part of the renaissance of this immensely talented writer who had such a huge and enthusiastic following during his lifetime.

Genres: Fiction

302 pages, Paperback

First published October 1, 2012

About the author

Pseudonym of Donald Heiney

Donald Heiney was born in South Pasadena in 1921. Seastruck from the time he read Stevenson at the age of twelve, he went to sea in earnest as a merchant marine cadet in 1942, sat for his Third Mate's license in 1943, and spent the rest of the war as a naval officer on a fleet oiler. After the war he earned a B.A. at Redlands and a doctorate in comparative literature at the University of Southern California. In 1964 he lived with his wife and son in Salt Lake City where he taught writing and comparative literature.

Taking the pseudonym MacDonald Harris for his fiction, his first story appeared in Esquire in 1947. Since then he has published stories in The Atlantic Monthly, Harpers Bazaar, Cosmopolitan, and The Saturday Evening Post, as well as a number of literary quarterlies. His story "Second Circle" was reprinted in the 1959 O. Henry Collection. Private Demons, his first novel, was published in 1961. Mortal Leap, his second, was finished in the summer of 1963 in Rome.

His novel The Balloonist was nominated for the National Book Award in 1977. He received a 1982 Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Sciences for his entire body of work.

Heiney died in 1993, at age 71, at his home in Newport Beach, California.

Reviews

[Greg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Things have turned out not quite so badly as he expected. This is the advantage of being a pessimist; things never do.

First off the three-star rating.

This would be a four star book if it weren't by Macdonald Harris. I'm comparing it to the two other books I've found of his, and compared to them I thought it was a little lacking.

This could do with the fact that it was found among his papers after he died, maybe it wasn't finished, maybe there could have been more to it if he had decided to try to publish it.

There is nothing in the book that isn't pretty freaking awesome. It just doesn't feel like as much could have been done with the novel after giving so many great back stories to all the characters. This isn't at all what happens in the book, but it's like you're listening to somebody tell you this really great story, only they aren't really telling you a story, or not the story you think you are being told. There are all these little asides and funny anecdotes, and the dude keeps coming back to telling you some more of the story, but then gets sidetracked with some more asides, and they are great, and you're rolling around on the ground laughing. You're bawling your eyes out, and after a couple of hours he gets to the end and stands up to leave and you ask him, yeah, so what happened, what's the story that all these people are involved in? And he answers, well you know they did some stuff. And then he walks out the door.

This analogy sucks because that's not what happens at all in this book, but it's sort of like that to me. Or sort of like that in a non-spoilery kind of way.

Certain reader-types with shitty memories, like this reviewer, might think that this is sort of like a slice of a side story that could have been tacked on to Pynchon's Against the Day.

It lives sort of in that same universe. I think. Or at least it does in my memory of the Pynchon book, which is fragmentary and very very incomplete.

It's about a journey in a dirigible of some free-lovin' spiritualist types in the post-War years of the Great War.

A mystic woman has gathered a group of various fuck-ups and head-cases on a journey to a paradise known as Giaconda, a hidden land that she has traveled to with her Astral Body.

The book is a hodge-podge of all kinds of weird mystical shit that I've had passing fascinations (in a detached sort of way, no red strings around the wrist for me thank you (ok that's another lie there is nothing about the Kaballah in this book, but other things like that, kind of), a smattering of philosophy, especially Nietzsche and the German Idealists and of course because of the time period and there is a German dirigible in the story you can't not have foreshadowing of the failed Austrian artist Corporal who at the time was a successful author of a poorly written memoir that would help change the world for the worst. All things that I have little soft-spots in my heart, or brain or wherever affection is kept (not that I like the Nazis, ok? But intellectually their existence was fascinating).

So, like other Macdonald Harris books this is totally worth reading. And unlike the other two Macdonald Harris books this one is going to be available to buy in a bookstore near you in just a couple of months along with The Balloonist which is already in stores, and which I haven't read, but I'm sure that even if it's not great it will still be better than most books out there.

Why?

Because Macdonald Harris is a great fucking writer. He is truly one of those writers, like Stanley Elkin and Donald Harrington (but unlike them he is still for all purposes still totally out of print, which the other two aren't, they just aren't noticed enough) that are a baffling tragedy of the literary world that they aren't read by just about every person who claims to like good books. And I'm not talking about writers that are obscure because you need to hurt your brain to understand, or that are only enjoyable to those who are willing to sit in a state that many people would call boredom or frustration to just get to the point of. I like that kind of stuff (sometimes), and I can work up some tears that more people should sit and read JR because it's amazing once you get past the difficulty of reading hundreds of pages of unattributed dialog, but this isn't obscure like that. Harris (and the other two) write nice clean prose. They tell a story and they tell it well. They are just good, ok? I can't figure out what words to defend their awesomeness though.

It is better than hitting your head against a beech tree.
Never before has Romer been so grateful for his philosophical training, since it now enables him, through the doctrine of the Only Instant, to prolong this moment in the way that every pasha, every aging libertine, every seeker of magic potions down through the centuries has longed in vain to do. It is better than hitting your head against a beech tree. It last forever. It lasts for all eternity.

So just try them, you'll most likely be happy that you did. And maybe also try some Dawn Powell, because she's also pretty awesome and not read enough, even though she is in better shape than the others with her Library of America edition and all.

Oh, yeah I'm supposed to mention that I got this book for free, from either Netgalley, the publisher, author or through some other way that I get books to read before they are published. Apparently it's a federal law to mention this (for reals?) and not just a cheap reason to float the shit out of my reviews. I haven't been given any monies, nor have I been coerced in anyway to write the review you just read. Huzzah!

[dianne b. · Rating 2 out of 5]

“It all comes to this: the ludicrous, simple, and doll-like way that people seem from the outside, and the seriousness and pathos with which they see themselves from the inside; the piercing phenomenon of consciousness; the illumination of the ego, the sense of the cosmic importance of self. Each man is a god imprisoned in a clown.”

A tale of a disparate - and desperate - group of ClownGodOrphans floating in the years following WWI, a time of searching for meaning in a lost, toasted, world. Trying to pull some reason out of the cruelty and devastation, the slaughter and chaos of that war, all done in the name of nothing; wanting to believe in something simple, something magically delicious.

I didn’t particularly enjoy reading this, sadly, as this author’s Mortal Leap was sublime.

[Troy · Rating 4 out of 5]

What to say?

I'm becoming a massive fan of MacDonald Harris, even though I've only read this and The Balloonist . What's amazing about both books is that he writes "novels of ideas" which are at the same time adventure novels. Yes, novels of ideas that are also adventure novels.

This book is roughly a character drama about a bunch of odd balls who are basically part of a cult. It's fin de sicle, but oddly contemporary. The characters are beautifully drawn, but this isn't just an adventure novel, even though it is an adventure novel, and a damn good one at that. This is also a novel about the historical moment before the horrors of WWII, about the possibilities of being present and being spiritual and what exactly you can change and what exactly is accessible, and most importantly, it's about making stories; about building narratives that others can follow, including yourself, and how those narratives can give people meaning. On the one hand there's the narrative constructed around the cult, which is based in love and aspiration, but there's also the narrative that's coming up contemporaneously, which is based in Mein Kampf and will lead to one of the great world tragedies. Likewise, there's many individual narratives; stories that people tell themselves to give their lives meaning and direction.

"It all comes to this: the ludicrous, simple, and doll-like way that people seem from the outside, and the seriousness and pathos with which they see themselves from the inside; the piercing phenomenon of consciousness; the illumination of the ego, the sense of the cosmic importance of self. Each man is a god imprisoned in a clown." He then goes on to imagine someone transcending all of this "to speak the truth of the inner soul" but there is a darkness to this. Not all inner speaking; not all narratives enrich. Some corrupt. But narratives are what we build and what we are, and this is a beautiful book about how that is done.

[David Williams · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a most ludicrous story about proto-hippies and proto-fascists crammed together in a Zeppelin and traveling together in the small lapse 'tween world wars. Harris is subtle, but when he wants to hit you in the head with a stick, well, he'll fucking hit a head with a stick (spoiler: he does, almost immediately). The characters are all as if expelled from WWI in a daze, grasping at anything to cope, searching for meaning, truth, and a quiet, unwatched corner to snog.

This is a dang good book.

[Ben · Rating 4 out of 5]

A portrait of the strange characters who make up the crew and passengers of the airship League of Nations, cruising around Europe on a vaguely religious, vaguely mystical errand. The plot defies summary--in fact, the book's jacket copy makes no attempt. It mirrors the shape and velocity of a zeppelin itself, slow, lumbering, never traveling very far or very fast, yet somehow graceful.

Your enjoyment of this book will depend on your tolerance for digression. Harris is a wonderful writer--funny and erudite--but in "The Carp Castle" he's more concerned with telling the characters' backstories than anything else. Most of the book is comprised of long, pastoral, engaging histories of the characters. It took me a while to settle into that pattern, but once I did I was happy to be there.

The characters are all remarkable in one way or another, touched by a variety of unlikely visitations, incidents, and preternatural abilities. Georg had a chance childhood encounter with an English balloonist, Joan has a magnetic sexual power, Romer got his Ph.D. in the study of angels, etc. It's obvious that Harris had a lot of fun composing these. In the last big project of his life, he wrote exactly what he wanted to about people that interested him. He's no chronicler of the rank-and-file; he's interested in the exceptional ones, the freaks, those in possession of some ineffable mystery.

And the book remains, at its heart, mysterious. I'm not sure whether this manuscript was entirely complete and revised when Harris died. It feels pretty polished at the sentence level, but it can be frustratingly enigmatic from a story perspective. We'll never know if it's precisely what the author intended, but I found it enjoyable and absorbing all the same.

[TinHouseBooks · Rating 5 out of 5]

Meg Storey (Editor, Tin House Books): At AWP, I picked up an ARC of The Carp Castle, which Overlook Press is publishing this coming September. It is the only unpublished novel by MacDonald Harris (the pseudonym for Donald Heiney), who lived from 1921 to 1993 and was the author of sixteen novels. Set in post–World War I Europe (at least, so far), The Carp Castle opens with a metaphysician chasing his soon-to-be lover through a German forest, each of them flinging off clothes throughout the chase. At the moment their relationship is consummated, the sky darkens, not because of a storm cloud, but because of a zeppelin, which, it turns out, is the vessel that will take them, the mystic/cult leader Moira, whom they follow, and other equally nutty (at least, so far) characters to a place that Moira calls “Gioconda” and the cover copy calls “a better future.” Best of all, the zeppelin is named The League of Nations. This adventure of post–World War II zeppelin travelers who are led by a mystic named Moira is a fun and zany ride from start to finish, filled with humor, subterfuge, and suspension of disbelief (for the characters as well as for the reader). Can they trust Moira? Will they reach the promised land of Gioconda and what will it be like? I don’t want to spoil the ending, but I do recommend that you not read the book on a plane if you are scared of flying.

[E · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was really good, if weird. The writing was unlike most other styles I've read, but that may have been resulting from the lack of editing (there was some distracting and unusual punctuation). It's a thoughtful book, if a little oversaturated with sex--but then again, it was relevant, and I forgive it, I just, again, found it distracting from the characters and my experience of the book. I do acknowledge that it wasn't unnecessary. I liked the characters' development, and the ambiguity that ended the book, and it was on the whole an intriguing read. There are subtleties that make it all the more worthwhile.

[Pete Camp · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rag tag group of people set out in search of a mythical Shangri-La lead by the mysterious Moira. Set just after World War 1 their means of transportation is the dirigible The League of Nations captained by a German veteran of the war. Quite a bit of metaphysical pondering about love, the soul, the Astral plane , and what constitutes reality. Good read

[Debbie · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was referred to me by one of our librarians. A rag tag group of people meet a woman named Moira who is part priphetess/cult leader. They all board a mothership bound for the promiseland to live as part of a colony. This was a really good read.

[David Herter · Rating 5 out of 5]

MacDonald Harris wrote seventeen novels. Each is a unique pleasure. THE CARP CASTLE is a rich posthumous tale about zeppelins and theosophy, love and delusion, and more zeppelins, set in the years after the Great War. A disparate cast of characters, vividly sketched, gather aboard the airship The League of Nations. They're led by Moira, an ethereal prophetess bound for Gioconda, a land of milk and honey existing at the North Pole. Harris (pseudonym for Donald Heiney, who died in 1993) drifts lovingly from character to character, allowing us to sink into their strange interiors, to rise to the excitement of the voyage (with beautiful depictions of his cherished airships) and always keeps us firmly on course. The enterprise is strongly rooted in the zeitgeist of 1920’s Europe, swept along by gusts of silliness and awe, never ponderous, lighter than air. His neglect among readers isn't too baffling: he never repeated himself, and could be counted on to strike out in startling new directions. The results were pure literary treasure. I hope THE CARP CASTLE will find an audience. My only caveat: a startling number of typos, at least in the edition I bought.


An Excerpt:

The school had an orchestra which was run by the aged music teacher, Mr. Paumunker. Each girl who applied for it had to select an instrument. Moira rejected the ladylike violin, and the ignominious triangle-and-wood-block, the choice of the ten-thumbed and tone deaf. The instrument that attracted her was the trumpet, shiny and polished, with an arcane shape so that it was impossible to see how all the turnings and bends connected to the center. Every part of it fascinated her: the shiny brass coils, the three smoothly oiled pistons, the flaring bell that narrowed into the mystery of the dark passages inside, the small cup at the other end that fitted the lips like a kiss. The sound it made was the fanfare of kings bearing gifts; it could be modulated from the sweet and insinuating to the brassy and clangorous. You spat into it and out the other end came the voice of Gabriel. The trumpet was chaste like a lover; it belonged to only one person and could be used by another only after much wiping with a handerchief for revirginification. The liquor of your body was projected into its entrails, and after that it belonged to you.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the early 1920s Germany was still very much a defeated nation, burdened with the reparations and other sanctions imposed under the Treaty of Versailles. However, Germany was allowed to continue its development and production of airships, with the Graf Zeppelin criss-crossing the world with an unparalleled record of speed, luxury, and safety. The wealthy and charismatic Moira Pockock decides that her Guild of Love needs an airship. Turning up at the Zeppelin Company’s headquarters she buys a half-finished airship, has it renamed League of Nations, recruits a crew and prepares to embark on the voyage to Gioconda (which lies at the North Pole).

The setting of The Carp Castle is in effect our world rather than any necessary alternative one. Familiar great events are unchanged (for example the book one of the crewmen is reading is clearly Mein Kampf; World War II will happen). Harris’ reality is ours enhanced through the creation of an assortment of extraordinary characters whose past histories bring them together as Moira’s often flawed but always entertaining disciples. Each has had to encounter Moira’s vision, adapting to it (or not) in their own idiosyncratic way.

MacDonald Harris (1921-93) died before The Carp Castle could be published. The gap of nearly two decades was due to the disappearance of the manuscript. This seems somehow appropriate. Nevertheless, happily, in the real world this funny, witty, bittersweet, thoughtful novel can now make its maiden voyage. Devotees of Harris’ work and newcomers alike are sure to be delighted and enriched.

[Kariss · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ok ... I wander through the library and hummm The Carp Castle sounds... Also by: The Balloonist-sounds steampunkish... enjoyable genre ...
Enjoy the read, good story, interesting characters-Nice ending.

Then I come to the the author blurb and Oh my gosh! South Pasadena 1921-
More to read from another person that is entirely new.

Thank you Library!

[Trish Graboske · Rating 3 out of 5]

A hard-to-place novel, about mystics/misfits following an ethereal leader. "If submarines could think, they would imagine gods in the form of dirigibles, similar to themselves, but composed of finer matter, and moving in an ethereal medium." Hence a "Carp Castle" in the sky.

[Karyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really loved this book. It was sexy and strange with an art deco overlay.

[Louie Haltom · Rating 3 out of 5]

strange

[S · Rating 3 out of 5]

I got two books by this author from the library. Here are the immediately knowable facts.

1) The Balloonist: Title is "The Balloonist."
2) The Carp Castle: Noticeable because of golden airship shining on cover.

I read for many hours and when I was done, I came to an unavoidable conclusion: I had just read, back to back, TWO books about lighter-than-air transportation*.

HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN?

This is a wandering book, with very long chapters that visit each of the major and minor characters more or less as we come upon them. If you are into knowing why like twelve randos all showed up to witch church one day and that was that, well, this is an excellent choice. It has the added benefit of ending in such a way that, despite the super shady manner in which everybody is behaving (and also the giant bag of helium), really, very few people die. So, yay.

I always like a nice backstory, but curiosity about Moira's genuineness drove me forward. On the one hand, there's no denying that her recruitment tactics rely on showmanship, but on the other, there's just enough weird stuff going on that you can't help but wonder if her promised land is real. You begin the story from the perspective of Romer, a skeptical philosopher who did a brilliant dissertation on angels, a phenomenon he doesn't actually believe in and yet delights in talking about. His liminal attitude toward Moira is how I felt, too. Yes, it sounds like a bunch of bunk, but it feels right.

And then they all get dumped on an ice burg because of it. So, really, 100% all around.

I don't know, man. You want a book about airships and mysticism? Give it a go. I think I'm done with Mr. Harris for a good while.


*To the North Pole.