Love and Death in the American NovelDalkey Archive Press, 1997 - 512 pages A retrospective article on Leslie Fiedler in the New York Times Book Review in 1965 referred to Love and Death in the American Novel as "one of the great, essential books on the American imagination . . . an accepted major work." This groundbreaking work views in depth both American literature and character from the time of the American Revolution to the present. From it, there emerges Fiedler's once scandalous--now increasingly accepted--judgment that our literature is incapable of dealing with adult sexuality and is pathologically obsessed with death. |
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... DEATH IN THE AMERICAN NOVEL Those of a swort Vollerved . But pa ever knowy Not have done gognot ho Jelangtyings . elainer , y engle wan eng , and to stay hyve conid will make depy love fe though the pinewo Suplined in ter F As even the ...
... DEATH IN THE AMERICAN NOVEL Those of a swort Vollerved . But pa ever knowy Not have done gognot ho Jelangtyings . elainer , y engle wan eng , and to stay hyve conid will make depy love fe though the pinewo Suplined in ter F As even the ...
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... Death evoked as much outrage as had his Partisan Review essay a dozen years earlier . Many of the major guns of the American literary establishment drew their sites on Fiedler's provocative study . In a scathingly condescend- ing essay ...
... Death evoked as much outrage as had his Partisan Review essay a dozen years earlier . Many of the major guns of the American literary establishment drew their sites on Fiedler's provocative study . In a scathingly condescend- ing essay ...
Page 14
... or perilousness of its theme ; and in the pages of that little book I found confirmation of my own suspicions that it is duplicity and outrageousness which determine the quality of those American 14 LOVE AND DEATH IN THE AMERICAN NOVEL.
... or perilousness of its theme ; and in the pages of that little book I found confirmation of my own suspicions that it is duplicity and outrageousness which determine the quality of those American 14 LOVE AND DEATH IN THE AMERICAN NOVEL.
Contents
23 | |
39 | |
62 | |
74 | |
THE BEGINNINGS OF THE ANTIBOURGEOIS SENTIMENTAL NOVEL IN AMERICA | 105 |
CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN AND THE INVENTION OF THE AMERICAN GOTHIC | 126 |
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER AND THE HISTORICAL ROMANCE | 162 |
ACHIEVEMENT AND FRUSTRATION | 215 |
CLARISSA IN AMERICA TOWARD MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR | 217 |
GOOD GOOD GIRLS AND GOOD BAD BOYS CLARISSA AS A JUVENILE | 259 |
THE REVENGE ON WOMAN FROM LUCY TO LOLITA | 291 |
THE FAILURE OF SENTIMENT AND THE EVASION OF LOVE | 337 |
THE BLACKNESS OF DARKNESS EDGAR ALLAN POE AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE GOTHIC | 391 |
THE POWER OF BLACKNESS FAUSTIAN MAN AND THE CULT OF VIOLENCE | 430 |
INDEX | 506 |
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Common terms and phrases
Ahab American novel archetype artist audience become bourgeois Brockden Brown called character Charles Brockden Brown Charlotte Temple child Clarissa comic Cooper courtly love critics death Dimmesdale dream European evil fable father Faulkner Faust Faustian female fiction figure finally genteel girl Gordon Pym gothic gothic novel guilt hand haunted Hawthorne Hawthorne's heart hero heroine Hester horror Huck Huckleberry Finn imagination incest Indian innocent Ishmael literary literature live Lovelace lover Maiden male marriage marry Melville Melville's Moby Dick moral mother myth mythic Natty Natty Bumppo nature Negro never nightmare novelists once passion perhaps Pierre Poe's popular portrayed projected protagonist Pudd'nhead Pudd'nhead Wilson Puritan Queequeg readers represents Richardson Richardsonian role romance Sawyer Scarlet Letter Scott seduction seems sense sentimental novel sexual sister story symbolic terror theme tion Tom Sawyer tradition turn Twain virgin woman women writers
Popular passages
Page 70 - When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds, too late, that men betray. What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
Page 57 - Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
Page 416 - And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling— my darling— my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Page 315 - Dutch sailors' eyes — a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams ; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
Page 281 - But I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she's going to adopt me and civilize me, and I can't stand it. I been there before.
Page 394 - And now we rushed into the embraces of the cataract, where a chasm threw itself open to receive us. 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 skin of the figure was of the perfect whiteness of the snow.
Page 315 - And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors' eyes — a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an...