The tales of Edgar Allan Poe never fail to amaze and mystify, to horrify and delight. I own many collections of Poe’s stories, and each one helps me to see something new in the work of a great author whose stories I have read many, many times. This collection comes from the Everyman Library of the J.M. Dent publishing company of London, and bears the straightforward title of Tales of Mystery and Imagination.
A chronology of Poe’s times is followed by a helpful introduction in which editor Graham Clarke of the University of Kent remarks that “Edgar Allan Poe remains an endlessly elusive and problematic writer” (p. xxi) – an assessment with which most students of Poe’s work would no doubt agree. Afterward, we are off into the tales – and I found that the way editor Graham arranged the tales contributes much to the success of this volume.
For instance, Poe’s often-overlooked story “Morella” chronicles the life, death, and (perhaps) after-life of a woman named Morella. Morella, who knows that childbirth is going to kill her, tells her un-loving husband, the story’s narrator, that he will love their daughter (also to be named Morella) as he never loved her. The narrator records that after the death of the mother Morella, the daughter Morella “grew strangely in stature and intellect, and was the perfect resemblance of her who had departed, and I loved her with a love more fervent than I had believed it possible to feel for any denizen of Earth” (p. 200).
The regular reader of Poe’s work will not be surprised to hear that things do not end well for the narrator of “Morella.” Yet what I found artful in arrangement, in this edition of Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination, was the way editor Clarke placed “Morella” alongside other Poe tales of an ill-fated love, all of which bear, as their title, a woman’s first name: “Ligeia,” “Eleonora,” “Berenice.” Such careful editorial arrangement and organization of the tales is characteristic of this entire volume.
I also appreciated how Clarke placed Poe’s three mystery tales involving the Parisian master-sleuth C. Auguste Dupin – “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,” and “The Purloined Letter” – one after another, in the order in which they were published. This arrangement helps the reader to see the development of Poe’s ideas of “ratiocination,” the practice of imaginative identification through which Dupin solves three different mysteries. “The Purloined Letter” is particularly clear about how Dupin’s theory of ratiocination rejects the strictly rational and employs elements of the intuitive; as Dupin’s friend, the unnamed narrator of the stories, remarks, “It is merely…an identification of the reasoner’s intellect with that of his opponent” (p. 503).
The harm that editor Rufus Griswold did in publishing his scabrous obituary of Poe, after the author’s premature death at age 40 in 1849, endures, as many readers to this day think of Poe as a demonic and death-obsessed uber-Goth. In fact, Poe’s tales of aberrant psychology always involve an element of moral choice, as when the unnamed narrator of “The Premature Burial” explains at length his morbid fear of being buried alive, and then explains how a traumatic life event helped him to achieve a sort of breakthrough:
…[O]ut of Evil proceeded Good….My soul acquired tone – acquired temper. I went abroad. I took vigorous exercise. I breathed the free air of Heaven. I thought upon other subjects than Death. I discarded my medical books….I read…no fustian about churchyards – no bugaboo tales – such as this. In short I became a new man, and lived a man’s life. (p. 301)
These are not the words of a man who celebrates unhealthy psychological states; they represent the thinking of an author who recognizes that such states of mind exist and affect people’s lives.
In his introduction to these tales, editor Clarke reminds the reader that “we would do well to remember that Poe is the interminable hoaxer, and that, while he wrote some wonderful short stories, he also told some excessively tall tales” (p. xxvii). Clarke’s words of warning certainly apply in the case of “The Balloon Hoax.” Poe’s completely fictional account of a balloon voyage across the Atlantic was presented as a serious news story, and was accepted as fact by many readers before the truth of the story’s falsity became generally known.
This early example of “fake news” benefited from the verisimilitude with Poe set forth authentic sounding details about the non-existent balloon that supposedly made this epic voyage: “From the end of the axis which is next the car, proceeds a shaft of steel, connecting the screw with the pinion of a piece of spring machinery fixed in the car. By the operation of this spring, the screw is made to revolve with great rapidity, communicating a progressive motion to the whole” (p. 400). In his meticulous description of technology that does not exist yet, Poe looks ahead to the science-fiction genre of which he was, with Mary Shelley and Jules Verne, among the founding authors.
On this reading of the tales of Poe, I also found myself focusing on “The Gold Bug.” Typically, when reading this story, I would focus on its Southern setting in antebellum South Carolina, or on its possible connections to Poe’s early life (as a young soldier, he was stationed at Fort Moultrie, on coastal Sullivan’s Island where the story is set). This time however, I found myself focusing much more on the story’s codebreaking elements.
The story’s protagonist, William Legrand, is a noble Southerner who has fallen into poverty through no fault of his own – much the way Poe liked to think of himself. Legrand stumbles upon a coded clue that, if deciphered accurately, might reveal the location of a vast pirate treasure. Speaking to the story’s unnamed narrator, Legrand expresses his pride in his abilities as a cryptographer, much the way Poe himself often did: “Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve” (p. 99).
In the various editorial positions he held in Richmond, Philadelphia, and New York City, Poe often boasted of his abilities as a cryptographer, challenging his readers to send in coded messages and claiming never to have failed to solve one. “The Gold Bug” certainly demonstrates Poe’s interest in code-breaking; and the story’s resolution may represent a form of wish-fulfillment, with Poe perhaps fantasizing about his cryptographic abilities leading him and his family out of the poverty that characterized so much of his life.
This collection of Poe’s short stories is a favourite of mine for another reason. One of the films I like best is François Truffaut’s Fahrenheit 451 (1966), an adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s 1953 novel about a dystopian future society where reading is illegal and firemen burn books. The film’s protagonist, a reformed fireman named Guy Montag, is asked at one point to pick out a favourite book, and without hesitation he produces a copy of Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allan Poe – a nice nod to the way Poe inspired Bradbury, the way he has inspired so many authors of fantasy, horror, and science-fiction literature.
It was good spending time once again with my old Baltimore pal Edgar Allan Poe – and I look forward to the next time I take up another edition of his stories, and see what stands out for me then.