Book review: Mr Pye, by Mervyn Peake
“All about the island the darkening water heaved and broke upon the rocks. The tide rose momently. Along the tortuous passages of the caves the hollow echoes rumbled and the billows hissed and slapped the slimy walls. High above the caves and the shrivelling beaches on the island’s rain-drenched back, the trees that slanted all one way from the prevailing winds creaked n the darkness.” (Mr Pye, Pg. 42)
Descriptive passages like this are almost equivalent to the tortured majesty of the Gormenghast trilogy but they are all too rare in Mr Pye. The concept of this story is unique, traversing from the banal to up-tight imaginative fantasy, capped off with a chase and a glorious ending. The tale magnifies a tiny place (Sark) and its inhabitant characters up to noticeable proportions but, sadly, the storytelling is ordinary and cautious when contrasted with Mervyn Peake’s own impossibly high standards. This is a quarter Peake, three quarters watered down.