Melmoth
Beware the reader delving into the wondrous world of Sarah Perry’s Melmoth without the time to finish this breathtaking novel in one sitting. I suggest an idle weekend to savor this masterpiece, which surpasses even its predecessor, The Essex Serpent, in its lyrical beauty and historical ambition. A paean to Charles Maturin’s Melmoth the Wanderer, Perry’s book emulates the gothic thriller’s structure of a matryoshka, with diverse storylines traversing different eras, regions, and genres—letters, memoirs, and confessions—nestled into one another. The individual elements combine into a sophisticated reflection on the nature of human faith and culpability.
What do an Englishwoman hiding from the consequences of her actions in modern-day Prague, a Czech man trying to atone for his collusion with the Nazis, and an Ottoman official signing a movement order for the Armenian population of Trezibond have in common? Could it be the belief that their betrayals have been observed by an elusive ‘recording angel,’ who at times seems human, but more often appears as a supernatural phenomenon, blighting creation, diverting the course of history, causing terrible illness and suffering? Or is she an illusion—the expression of an innate evil?
“All my life, I’d wanted to write a great monster…but I wanted mine to be a woman,” Perry said in an interview with The Independent. Melmoth centers on Helen Franklin, a British expatriate, who understands the truth about her ‘follower’ during a visit to the opera; as she watches the mermaid Rusalka exchanging immortality for love, Helen comes to accept that her only hope of redemption is the defense she erects against despair. The question remains—is this insight enough to save her, or to save any of us? Highly intriguing and recommended.
