Why you should read: The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym

I have Robert McCrum's article to thank for reminding me about Edgar Allan Poe's only novel. When I consider how many times I've read some of his shorter fiction, it's a wonder that I haven't attempted this novel sooner. But then most compendiums, including the volume of "nearly-complete" works of EAP I keep on my bookshelf, exclude The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket altogether. This is a shame, because Mr. Poe's debut novel not only shows clear signs of the interesting novelist he might have become, had it received better reviews, but is also a clever and hugely imaginative work in its own right.

Readers of Poe's short stories will recognise some of his favourite themes such as horror and the incredible. His psychological insight and uncompromising style render a vivid portrayal of the protagonist's experiences, and the circumstance and context - adventure on the high seas - make it easy to discern the novel's influence on authors such as Robert Louis Stevenson, Herman Melville and Jules Verne.

Yet if we only saw it as adventure and horror combined into a longer narrative we might be forgiven for thinking that it is no more than a particularly long instance of his shorter fiction. This would be a mistake, and a quick explanation will hopefully illustrate why. The "Introductory Note" is signed off "A.G. Pym", and in it Mr. Pym refers to his recent travels and their fictionalisation by a writer, a certain "Mr. Poe". This conceit is very clever and raises unexpected questions about authorship and authenticity. In this Introductory Note, Mr. Pym says:

"This exposé being made, it will be seen at once how much of what follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the "Messenger," it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be readily perceived."

Poe was no stranger to playing with readers' expectations, such as in the Balloon-Hoax a few years later, but this conceit is subtly different. The "Editor's Note" offered at the end of the novel to account for the abrupt end to the narrative reveals that, although we are offered the present story as fact, written by Mr. Pym rather than by Mr. Poe, Mr. Poe (the writer) doubts its authenticity - particularly in the latter parts.

"The gentleman [Mr. Poe] whose name is mentioned in the preface, and who, from the statement there made, might be supposed able to fill the vacuum, has declined the task - this, for satisfactory reasons connected with the general inaccuracy of the details afforded him, and his disbelief in the entire truth of the latter portions of the narration."

We are not told exactly which latter parts, but they would most certainly include the parts of the adventure where the protagonist had drifted into uncharted waters. In other words, the parts that are more clearly "fictionalised".

This instability in the text raises questions about narration, authenticity, and also the nature of experience. Did Mr. Pym really experience all that was related? If he hadn't, how could he still write so cogently about his deeply remembered feelings of terror and danger? Is the outside world merely a catalyst and stimulant for our inner worlds?

The novel's genre is difficult to pin down, because it exhibits elements of horror, adventure, and science fantasy. By adding questions about authorship to the mix, Edgar Allan Poe's only completed novel rises further above the level of genre-writing and mere narrative.

The devil you know

As I sat down at Pret for my lunch I couldn't help but read the notice staring at me from the eating bench. It candidly informed me that my money spent at Pret is for a good cause. It is going to help the homeless.

It was perhaps surprising how, after reading that, I wasn't more excited about my jalapeño chicken hot wrap. Instead I just felt vaguely guilty. Here I am, enjoying my instant gratification lunch, while others have to go hungry and sleep in the dirt.

But it got me thinking about business. There was a time when businesses were into making money, and had no qualms about it. Having the moral upper hand was easy when they were so obviously evil, money grabbing monsters. Now they do charity, philanthropy, and even save the environment. All while showing me up for the gluttonous fraud that I am. Surely that's no way to treat your customers!

So I dutifully had a google to see what Pret gets up to and there it was, they partner with plenty of charities and support worthy causes. Maybe it's my viewpoint that needed to change. If I imagined that Pret is working on my behalf, making donations like a benevolent angel, I would become a moral agent by proxy and will feel inner peace.

Unfortunately, I felt more confused than enlightened (as my participation is so ephemeral, it was perhaps more of an impression than a feeling). My moral compass started spinning while searching for the magnetic North of modern business ethics. Was this company a devil in monk's robes, or were they the saints they want to appear as? Or merely loveable rogues?

To be honest, I hardly know, and probably don't even care. The fact that Pret appears to care, when all I wanted was a hot wrap and somewhere to escape the office for a few minutes, did little for my self esteem. It is just a bit too neat. If I spend my money at Pret the world becomes a better place... seriously?

Pret targets the middle class business crowd, and by implication endorses its values. That, ultimately, may have been the real source of my uneasiness. It is not entirely Pret's fault. But by making us feel we are contributing to solutions for the world's problems, we have even more reason to be complacent. We have even less incentive to make a change in our own lives.

Sometimes the devil you know is better than the devil you don't, even if it is doing an angel's work.