From Publishers Weekly
For fans of the fabulist tradition, Goyen was a standard-bearer of sorts from the publication of his seminal novel, The House of Breath , in 1950 to his death in 1983. Written during the '50s and '60s but never published, this short, experimental novel is framed by the narration of an unnamed man in the Pacific Northwest who replaces a murdered lighthouse keeper named Curran. The new "Lighthouse Keeper" finds "Curran's Log"--an intricate account of Curran's days as a nurse during WW II, when he cared for a comatose patient who kept his own journal, which Curran copied into the Log. The patient's and Curran's lives share certain symbols and characters--a trapeze artist named Marvello; a murderous putative brother, Pietro; a circus (and hospital) filled with animals; and Shipwreck Kelley, a flagpole sitter in a small American town. For all its eccentricities and the grandeur of its precise language, however, this remarkable novel never quite pulls itself together. As the new Lighthouse Keeper says, "There is an idea running through this record," as various characters variously muse on the various texts they read, and, indeed, Goyen seems to be reaching for some grand, Heisenbergian theory about the relationship between reader and writer. Unfortunately, the best he can cobble up is a rickety conclusion that leaves the question unresolved. A thrilling but ultimately disappointing novel. Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Library Journal
Written in the 1950s, this posthumously published short novel by the author of the estimable The House of Breath is a poorly conceived, tortuously literary fabula. Curran, a lighthouse keeper on the coast of Washington, is found dead, perhaps murdered. The new keeper begins to read Curran's strange, diarylike log, which tells of his stint as an orthopedic therapist in England during the war and of his comatose patient, Chris. Curran reads-and then copies and "collaborates" on Chris's diary, which describes his life as Marvello, a promiscuous flying tapeze artist whose "body's hungers were insatiable," who takes on hundreds of lovers in search of one "who would admit and face the Cain in me." His mystical quest for his "two half-faces" will, at its best, remind some of Hermann Hesse. But at its worst, the prose of this odd, elegiac work drones on pointlessly. A curiosity that will warrant space in a few large collections of modern fiction.Ron Antonucci, Hudson Lib. & Historical Soc., OhioCopyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Book News, Inc.
An early Goyen novel--ca.1960--now published for the first time. Annotation copyright Book News, Inc. Portland, Or.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

"I was twenty when I followed away from my town a trapeze family, aerialists, a group of beautiful winged people, mother, father, son and daughter. They were the Ishbels." Chris, whose leg is injured, and his lover Stella, with whom he lives in a ruined, abandoned house; Chris's male nurse; Marvello the circus aerialist; a lighthouse keeper; a flagpole sitter in small-town America - these are the creatures of William Goyen's visionary fable of love, lust, and loneliness. Half a Look of Cain: A Fantastical Narrative was written in the 1950s and early 1960s, and is now being published for the first time. Part fable and part rhapsodic exploration of desire and loss, Half a Look of Cain bears Goyen's unmistakable artistic signature on every page. Too far ahead of its time in its swirling visionary structure, this novel was rejected by Goyen's first publisher as not sufficiently commercial and remained unpublished despite extensive revisions. The novel is shaped as a group of "medallions" - a series of related episodes. It dreams of defying mortality - as if living in the air, like the aerialists or the flagpole sitter - and of finding perfect companionship in lover and friend. The novel is both a rediscovered cry against the conformity and suppressed emotions of the 1950s and a celebration of passion. Reginald Gibbons has edited the novel from the author's multiple manuscripts and has contributed an illuminating afterword.

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

For fans of the fabulist tradition, Goyen was a standard-bearer of sorts from the publication of his seminal novel, The House of Breath , in 1950 to his death in 1983. Written during the '50s and '60s but never published, this short, experimental novel is framed by the narration of an unnamed man in the Pacific Northwest who replaces a murdered lighthouse keeper named Curran. The new ``Lighthouse Keeper'' finds ``Curran's Log''--an intricate account of Curran's days as a nurse during WW II, when he cared for a comatose patient who kept his own journal, which Curran copied into the Log. The patient's and Curran's lives share certain symbols and characters--a trapeze artist named Marvello; a murderous putative brother, Pietro; a circus (and hospital) filled with animals; and Shipwreck Kelley, a flagpole sitter in a small American town. For all its eccentricities and the grandeur of its precise language, however, this remarkable novel never quite pulls itself together. As the new Lighthouse Keeper says, ``There is an idea running through this record,'' as various characters variously muse on the various texts they read, and, indeed, Goyen seems to be reaching for some grand, Heisenbergian theory about the relationship between reader and writer. Unfortunately, the best he can cobble up is a rickety conclusion that leaves the question unresolved. A thrilling but ultimately disappointing novel. (June)

Library Journal

Written in the 1950s, this posthumously published short novel by the author of the estimable The House of Breath is a poorly conceived, tortuously literary fabula. Curran, a lighthouse keeper on the coast of Washington, is found dead, perhaps murdered. The new keeper begins to read Curran's strange, diarylike log, which tells of his stint as an orthopedic therapist in England during the war and of his comatose patient, Chris. Curran reads-and then copies and "collaborates" on Chris's diary, which describes his life as Marvello, a promiscuous flying tapeze artist whose "body's hungers were insatiable," who takes on hundreds of lovers in search of one "who would admit and face the Cain in me." His mystical quest for his "two half-faces" will, at its best, remind some of Hermann Hesse. But at its worst, the prose of this odd, elegiac work drones on pointlessly. A curiosity that will warrant space in a few large collections of modern fiction.-Ron Antonucci, Hudson Lib. & Historical Soc., Ohio

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