Amazon.com
"Who killed Boy Staunton?"

This is the question that lies at the heart of Robertson Davies's elegant trilogy comprising Fifth Business, The Manticore, and World of Wonders. Indeed, Staunton's death is the central event of each of the three novels, and Rashomon-style, each circles round to view it from a different perspective. In the first book, Fifth Business, Davies introduces us to Dunstan Ramsey and his "lifelong friend and enemy, Percy Boyd Staunton," both aged 10. It is a winter evening in the small Canadian village of Deptford, and Ramsey and Boy have quarreled. In a rage, Boy throws a snowball with a stone in it, misses his friend and hits the Baptist minister's pregnant wife by mistake. She becomes hysterical and later that night delivers her child prematurely, a baby with birth defects. Even worse, she loses her mind. The snowball, the stone, the deformed baby christened Paul Dempster--this is the secret guilt that will bind Ramsey and Staunton together through their long lives:

I was perfectly sure, you see, that the birth of Paul Dempster, so small, so feeble, and troublesome, was my fault. If I had not been so clever, so sly, so spiteful in hopping in front of the Dempsters just as Percy Boyd Staunton threw that snowball at me from behind, Mrs. Dempster would not have been struck. Did I never think that Percy was guilty? Indeed I did.

When it came to writing, three was Davies's favorite number. Before the Deptford books, he wroteThe Salterton Trilogy (Tempest-Tost, Leaven of Malice, A Mixture of Frailties), and after it cameThe Cornish Trilogy (The Rebel Angels, What's Bred in the Bone, The Lyre of Orpheus). Excellent as these and Davies's other novels are, The Deptford Trilogy is arguably the masterpiece for which he'll best be remembered, as the combination of magic, archetype, and good, old-fashioned human frailty at work in these novels is a world of wonders unto itself, and guarantees these three books a permanent place among the great books of our time. --Alix Wilber ... Read more

Customer Reviews (49)

Great Book
I enjoyed the book The Fifth Business very much. It is what I would call magical realism. Ramsay the main character of the book is not the most likable man in fiction but, he is very human. Davies characters are mythical while retaining their humanity. The study of saints that Ramsay involves himself in was my favorite part of the book. I would recommend this book to anyone.

The Incomparable Robertson Davies
I think that is a tragedy beyond measure that Robertson Davies was not chosen as one of the 100 Best Writers of the 20thC.

His writings are sui generis. And we will not see his like again.

Read the Fifth Bussiness, but skip the rest
If you ask me to rank each part of this trilogy seperately, i would give the Fifth Business a 5 Star, The Manticore a 2 star and World of Wonders simply one star. Davies' obsession with Jung makes Manticore rather pretencious and unbearably monotonous to read. For the case of World of Wonders, its creation and value, in my opinion, might only rest on the romantic idea of the completion of a triology, which is a thing that Davies loves to do but failes to do well.

Starts well, ends badly
This was a dissapointing book.The first part of the trilogy went well enough, Davies has a skill at making dowdy characters interesting enough to sustain his plot.Other reviewers found fault with the second part, the Jungian analysis.The conceit of advancing the story through the conversation of doctor and patient is handled a little amateurishly, but it is done well enough to sustain the flow, and all in all it seemed the best of the trilogy to me.It would have been a better book to end after two.The final part is so forced that the plot and characters are reduced to a thin skeleton for hanging some tired and simplistic pseudo-speculations on the nature of religion and myth.The setup of a "scandanavian" film maker and his camera man is a pathetic little device if you've read the Bergman its nipped from. So it was that two-thirds of the way through the final part, I gave up and closed the thing.It reminded me of the Frankenstein monster, cobbled together out of stolen members. But unlike that great work of fantasy, there is no mad genius behind it.

To dree one's weird
The above title of this review is the gnomic answer of a sort given to the question asked by many of the characters in this trilogy, "Who killed Boy Staunton?" at the end by Ramsay.But to find out what this means, you'll have to look up the history of the word "weird" when it was still a noun, before the "three weird sisters" of Macbeth launched the word into its long trek to the adjective we know today.-So it is with much of this work, lots of interesting, fascinating tangents to follow, if one is so inclined.

I think this trilogy succeeds so well primarily because of the writing.-What the character David Staunton calls "plain language"-The baroque is indeed, "not for everybody", but more significantly, hard to pull off.One has to be a Proust or Faulkner to accomplish such a feat.--Lawrence Durrell's The Alexandria Quartet, though fine in many respects, is an example of an author who reached above himself in this regard.

The "plain language" is so well done that the reader can go through the whole of the middle book, The Manticore, the entirety of which involves the analysis of David Staunton by a Jungian psychiatrist, and finish knowing only a smattering more about Jung and his therapy than he did at the beginning-No "race-consciousness", "archetypes" or "synchronicity". -Again, the reader must delve into this aspect if he or she feels so inclined, after reading the work.-The Manticore also, to me, was the finest of the trilogy, the most deft and interesting, for it forces the reader (or, at least, this reader) to imagine himself in David's position, and I managed to dredge up several (not insignificant) moments from my past that I'd completely forgotten.

So, if you enjoy finely penned, not overly ornate prose, and long nights turning pages, I might add.-Then read and...dree your weird. ... Read more

Amazon.com
The great Canadian novelist Robertson Davies spent his long life in love with books. Thisposthumous collection of two dozen essays stands as the lively recollections of a great reader: Davies talkspraises the books he's loved, damns the books he's hated, and seeks to answer the eternal question of whywe read books. And while Davies writes with great authority, he's thankfully never pedantic, and hiscomments about books, which range from children's titles to Ulysses, are always delivered in a charminglyunpretentious manner. The individual essays are all beautifully written, and cracking this book will nodoubt encourage readers to track down many of the authors and titles that Davies covered.Book Description
Readers around the world continue to mourn the 1995 death of a beloved literary icon, but this rich and varied collection of Robertson Davies's writings on the world of books and the miracle of language captures his inimitable voice and sustains his presence among us. Coming almost entirely from Davies' own files of unpublished material, these twenty-four essays and lectures range over themes from "The Novelist and Magic" to "Literature and Technology," from "Painting, Fiction, and Faking," to "Can a Doctor Be a Humanist?" and "Creativity in Old Age." For devotees of Davies and all lovers of literature and language, here is the "urbanity, wit, and high seriousness mixed by a master chef" (Cleveland Plain Dealer)--vintage delights from an exquisite literary menu. Davies himself says merely: "Lucky writers. . .like wine, die rich in fruitiness and delicious aftertaste, so that their works survive them."
Viking will publish Robertson Davies' Happy Alchemy in July 1998 Many fine works by Robertson Davies are available from Penguin including The Deptford Trilogy, The Cornish Trilogy, and The Salterton Trilogy ... Read more

Customer Reviews (4)

My First Davies
You don't need to be familiar with Robertson Davies' work to enjoy this set of insightful talks and essays about reading, writing, and life in general. This has been my first exposure to his work (a gift from my mother-in-law), and I loved it. I'm now deeply interested in reading his other work. In fact, I bought the Deptford Trilogy, but haven't gotten to read it yet since my wife got ahold of it before I did.

Reflections on reading, writing, and the world of books
It is usually a pleasure to sit down to a Robertson Davies work whether it be a novel, a collection of speeches, ghost stories, essays, or newspaper articles.The Merry Heart is a felicitous adddition to the Davies canon,containing his usual eclectic selection of literary topics and sparklingideas.Each chapter has a few introductory comments (often includingexcerpts from Davies' diary) by the book's editors that paint thebackground for each piece.Readers enjoy comparing notes about favoritebooks and biographical history, so for avid readers, The Merry Heart willbe like reading a series of letters from a funny, witty, learned friendabout some of those events and books that have shaped his life.This fine385 page book of 24 chapters is easy to read in bits and pieces, eitherduring a lunch break, before bed, or on a weekend next to the fire.(Onenote of caution: for those unfamiliar with Davies' worldview, do not besurprised to see elements of gnosticism popping up from time to time.)Allin all, this book was a real pleasure to read.

The old man has done it again!!
When I read this collection it was as if the old friend was still alive.He is most certainly alive and kicking in this book.The book gives not only his honest view of books, authors and the literary world but alsoincludes yet another ghostly tale of mythological origin.Not only was this an informative read, as most of Davies' work is, it was also aheartfelt pleasure, and continues to be so, again and again and again.

A welcome little addition to the Davies bibliography.
Two years after Robertson Davies' death, here is the unexpected gift of "The Merry Heart," a collection of essays, speeches and autobiographical reflections pulled together by his wife and daughter. They proceeded knowing Davies himself had considered such a project, and in doing so, they honor both his memory and his intentions.

Page after page, "The Merry Heart" offers delight and dissertation. From the charm of the opening essay, "A Rake at Reading," to the storytelling wit of the last piece, "A Ghost Story," Davies' distinctive voice covers as wide a range of topics as a sparkling dinner party. From the seriousness of Canada's continuing preoccupation with its sense of place and history in "Literature in a Country without a Mythology" and such timely discourses as "Literature and Technology" and "Literature and Moral Purpose" to the gems of "Christmas Books," "A View in Winter: Creativity in Old Age" and "An Unlikely Masterpiece," he is by turns critical, thoughtful, playful, reverent and above all, a proud bearer of the literary standard. ... Read more

Book Description
Robertson Davies first hit upon the notion of writing ghost stories when he joined the University of Toronto's Massey College as a Master. Wishing to provide entertainment at the College's Gaudy Night, the annual Christmas party, Professor Davies created a "spooky story," which he read aloud to the gathering. That story, "Revelation from a Smoky Fire," is the first in this wonderful, haunting collection. A tradition quickly became established and, for eighteen years, Davies delighted and amused the Gaudy Night guests with his tales of the supernatural. Here, gathered together in one volume, are those eighteen stories, just as Davies first read them. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (7)

A romp through the graves of academe
What a fun book this is!These pieces, originally written for the amusement of his colleagues from the early 60s to the late 70s, work just fine as cozies for an educated general audience.The stories are literate, if somewhat samey, and very droll, in that understated Canadian way reminiscent of Stephen Leacock.It would indeed be great to have an audiotape of this, as many of the passages beg to be read aloud.Some fair use excerpts:

"Women always think that if they tell a man not to be pompous that will shut him up, but I am an old hand at that game.I know that if a man bides his time his moment will come."

"I am a democrat.All of my family have been persons of peasant origin, who have wrung a meagre sufficiency from a harsh world by the labour of their hands.I acknowledge no one my superior merely on grounds of a more fortunate destiny, a favoured birth.I did what any such man would do when confronted with Queen Victoria; I fell immediately to my knees."

"The devil gave me a look which made me profoundly uneasy.'Just because I am enjoying your sympathy, don't imagine that I cannot read you like a book,' he said.'You think you are cleverer than I; it is a very common academic delusion.'"

I'm unfamiliar with Davies' "serious" works, but any major writer who isn't afraid to show his readers a good time is all right with me.

Great fun!
Every story in this book is a joy. Davies spoofs himself, as, in his persona as Master of Massey College of the University of Toronto, he narrates them. It seems that there is something about Massey College that is attractive to ghosts, famous, infamous and not famous at all. "Every part of our great University strives for distinction of one kind or another, but it is everywhere admitted that in the regularity and variety of our ghostly visitations Massey College stands alone." Even Little Lord Fauntleroy puts in an appearance! Splendid stuff.

For Hardcore Davies Fans Only
The prospect of Davies penning ghost stories delighted me, so I purchased High Spirits for my annual October spooky reading.These stories are fun, but there's no getting around the fact that I was hugely disappointed.They are comic, not scary or even groteque.They were written to entertain his colleagues and students, and they are kind of dull for the general public...especially as the premise is basically the set-up for all 18 stories.Nevertheless, even without enjoying the tales themselves, Davies never fails to be an engaging writer, and his first person narration is often clever and amusing in his own unique style.Worth the read, but for Davies fan's only.

5 stars if Massey is your alma mater, 3 if it isn't.
By "High" Spirits in the title, Davies' is referring to the fact that the ghosts in these stories are most often of lofty earthly lineage. They are "highly" extracted. In these 18 stories we meet the ghosts of King George the V and VI of Great Britain, Queen Victoria, Sir John A. MacDonald, Saint George of Cappadocia, William Lyon Mackenzie King, and John Strachan (founder of Massey College) to name but a few. These are no ordinary run-of-the-mill random ghosts, and these are not "scary" ghost stories. They are moreso HUMOROUS and were meant originally to entertain guests at the annual Gaudy Nights held at Massey College when Davies was Master there.

While these stories are very well-done (original and highly inventive) and no doubt caused quite a stir in their time, to read them now seems quite dated. The inferences and specific allusions to college life are lost on the modern reader who may not have a conversational grasp of Canadian political history, or a knowledge of the finer points of Massey College's quadrangles and inner sanctums. All in all, these stories are best TOLD to their original hearers... a few times I had the sense that I would have liked to have been in attendence as Davies' recited these to his guests. But to sit and read them nowadays?... I don't know, at the end of each story I sort of felt like... "so what?" I am a big fan of Davies' writing, but this is not a book I would highly recommend to anyone getting to know his work.

High spirited stories by the master of high literature
The late Robertson Davies is perhaps best known for his works of heady literature.Some of the most well-known works by him are "Fifth Business", "The Manticore", "What's Bred in the Bone" and "Murther and Walking Spirits."Most readers of Davies will know him first and foremost as an author and second as a scholar of Elizabethan theatre;"Shakespeare's Boy Actors" is but one of his more academic works on the subject.

However, most Americans do not know of the years that Davies was the Master of Massey College at the University of Toronto in Canada.While there, it became his habit to tell a ghost story every year for the college's Christmas staff party.Thirteen of these ghostly (yet often quite hysterical stories) are contained here.Beginning with the first, "Revelation from a Smoky Fire", in which Davies is visited by an apparition who seems to be from the college's FUTURE, and moving on through "The Ugly Spectre of Sexism" and "The Pit Whence Ye Are Digged", these ghost tales are far less horrific and spooky than they are highly amusing. For example, when dealing with the sudden appearance of what is most likely a ghost that has appeared in his own office and, furthermore, assumes that Davies has come down the chimney, he writes, "I grasped immediately the sort of man I was dealing with. This was a madman! It is one of my cardinal rules to always humor madmen. It comes second nature to me. I do it several times each day."

These stories, like much of Davies's work, is highly scholarly, with a turn of phrase and vocabulary that often verges on that seen in Victorian English novels. People who have read a great deal, or who have gone to graduate school in the fine arts or for literature, will catch the subtle barbs and digs that Davies directs at the ivory tower nature of academia and even himself as Master of the college. The stories were first intended to be read aloud for an academic audience of professors, so they are meant more to amuse and tickle the wit than to accompany the more traditional Halloween stories or his other novels or scholarly works.

Potential readers should note that there was at one time an audio version of this book published with an introduction by the author with the reading performed by Christopher Plummer. As I understand it, this audio version is currently out of print.This is a dreadful shame because Mr. Plummer gives an exceptional performance of Mr. Davies's work. Also, as mentioned, these stories were intended to be read aloud for a gathering of people on an evening, and what could be better than HEARING these ghostly tales??If anyone finds themselves enjoying these stories, they would be well advised to track down the audio version!

Canada lost a fine writer, critic, playwright and journalist in 1996 when Mr. Davies passed away. His books are still enjoyed today as much as ever, and for those who are seeking out a less heavy, light and amusing work by him, one simply cannot go wrong with "High Spirits."Highly recommended- by this Davies fan!! ... Read more

Book Description
Ten years after the Master’s death, we proudly publish this hypnotic little book for those who love witty quotations — especially if they come from Robertson Davies.

James Channing Shaw’s brief Preface explains this delightful book:

“From the time of discovery of Robertson Davies’s writing, some of my greatest pleasures in reading Davies’s work have come from his quotable aphorisms, opinions, and general advice for living. The quotations, usually no more than one sentence in length, address women, art, literature, life itself. Some quotation-worthy phrases are mere descriptions beautifully composed, or opinions about Canadian life, or a humorously irreverent insult. In Davies’s novels and plays there is an abundance of these passages, with many more in his critical writing and in the Samuel Marchbanks books.

“This collection of approximately eight hundred quotations was selected from Davies’s written works. Those expressed in the spoken words of Davies’s characters are labelled with the character’s name in parentheses. Some are identified as the thoughts of the narrator. The quotations from Samuel Marchbanks, the fictional alter ego of Robertson Davies, are labelled by book title. All are quintessential Robertson Davies. Enjoy!”

A very short selection from this book, where every page will lure the reader in:

“Biography at its best is a form of fiction.”

“Too many doctors are deeply interested in disease, but don’t care much for people.”

“There is more to marriage than four bare legs in a blanket.”

“Never harbour grudges; they sour your stomach and do no harm to anyone else.” ... Read more

Customer Reviews (1)

great collection of quotes
This is a terrific compendium of Davies' quotes, observations, wit and wisdom compiled in a readable and enjoyable book. I highly recommend it! ... Read more

Book Description
The story of Dr. Jonathan Hullah who has used his high degree of cunning to the end of concealing his own true nature.In this brilliant novel, Davies reveals him to us.

"This is a wise, humane and consistently entertaining novel." --New York Times Book Review

"The Cunning Man is one of [Robertson Davis's] most entertaining and satisfying books..." --The Washington Post Book World ... Read more

Customer Reviews (28)

Cunning end
Though Robertson Davies was researching another book -- the end of the unfinished "Toronto Trilogy" -- his final novel "The Cunning Man" feels like the real end of his career. While it has some typical Daviesian content (mystery, evolving characters), the whole novel feels like an elderly man's farewell to his friends and the changing world.

Father Ninian Hobbes, a sweet old High Anglican priest, dies during Good Friday mass. Dr. Jonathan Hullah is perplexed by the details, but not so perplexed that he doesn't take the time to recount his life story: a supposedly fragile child in a backward Canadian village, who encountered love, deep friendship, and the mysteries of psychological and physical medicine.

In the present, he's a successful doctor, with a lot of the drama centering on St. Aiden's Church and his two old schoolmates: scholarly Brocky, and tragically pious priest Charlie. The death of old Hobbes sets off a hysterical devotion to the old "saint," followed by a murder, the loss of old friends, and a shocking confession that changes Hullah's world.

"The Cunning Man" is actually more like two books -- one is the bildungsroman of Hullah's youth and development, and the other is more like a series of short stories about Hullah's waning years. Many pages have musings about how the world -- and Canada -- has changed, regrets, and the loss of old friends to illness and age. You can tell that Davies was near the end of his life when he wrote this.

As is usual with Davies' books, there's a wealth of historical and philosophical detail, with quirky moments like the shaman's tent and Hullah trying to diagnose fictional characters. He also tackles the question of miracles (without taking sides), the spirit of marriage, and the idea of religious devotion twisted into something else, when sins are committed in an attempt to glorify God.

But his is a less coherent book than most of Davies' works. Some of the characters -- Dwyer, the Gilmartins -- simply fade out or expire offscreen, without fanfare or even much of an explanation. And the latter half is chopped up by multiple subplots and lots of rambly letters from Hullah's landlady, which are interesting but hard to follow.

Hullah himself isn't terribly likable; he seems too enamored of himself. The interesting ones are the supporting characters -- lovable cynic Brocky and his wife Nuala (respectively friend and lover to Hullah), the lesbian landladies, Esme the journalist, Dwyer the religious gay banker, Mrs. Smoke the gruff medicine woman, and Charlie the worshipful curate whose piety is slowly perverted.

"The Cunning Man" is perhaps Davies' weakest novel as well as his last, but it's also a melancholy, introspective piece of work. Farewell, Mr. Davies.

decent book
the main character was a little too in love with himself.maybe that was the point. about 80% of the way through, i got bored and put the book away.

Great Cast of Characters
Robertson Davies' "The Cunning Man" purports to be the Diary or Case Book of a doctor--Jonathan Hullah--who moves from the wilderness of Sioux Lookout to Toronto, Canada.

But it is much more than that.It turns into what the narrator, Hullah, says he wants to avoid, a Bildungsroman or Novel of Development: in this case thedevelopment of Hullah's character, but also the development of Toronto and Canada itself, from a wild-and-wooly backwoods place to an cosmopolitan, but very quirky, society.

The cast of characters is brilliant.

Hullah himself is interesting, if a little stuffy.But Pansy Todhunter, one of "The Ladies," whose letters he quotes in full, is a wonderful offset: slangy, funny, malicious, hearfelt.

Charlie his never-quite-holy priest friend is fabulous: tormented and visionary and fanatical and sad.

Mrs. Smoke, the cranky Indian shamaness who saves the 8-year-old Jonathan by magic spells and awakens him to The Other.

Darcy Dwyer, the aesthete bankerwho opens him to music and the visual arts, but also ruthless inquiry and even espionage.

Lt. Commander Daubigny, the high-school teacher witha multi-national and even cannibalistic past.

Even Esme, the relentless young reporter with whom Hullah becomes, shockingly, smitten.

All are wonderful in themselves, yet emblematic of larger elements of a changing society.

Instructive, thoughtful, funny.A wonderful read.

Read for what it says, not how it says it
Pity the Amazon star system doesn't allow for fractional stars, or else I would have given this 3.5 or 3.75.

I first read The Cunning Man in my mid-20s, after reading - and greatly enjoying - both the Salterton and Cornish trilogies.It left me disappointed, but for some reason I couldn't get Charlie Iredale's fate out of head.I recently re-read the book in my late 30s, and I've adjusted my original judgement slightly.There's no doubt that the book's flawed, but it also manages to be a deeply moving meditation on the comedies and tragedies of everyday life; if approached on its own terms.

And let there be no doubt that the book is flawed.The narrative technique chops and changes, chronology moves inconsistently, major characters fade away (in the case of the older Gilmartins) or (in the case of Dwyer) die off-stage with no apparent consequence, some of the literary allusions seem a little too forced (just how many times can you use the adjectives 'Chekovian' and 'Dostoeyevskian' in one book anyway?) and few works of popular fiction - however literary - can have had a central plot (just what did happen to Fr. Hobbes, and what was Charlie Iredale's role?) that occupies so little of the book.On top of that, anyone who's read much of Davies' literary criticism will be aware of the extent to which the narrator (and Brocky Gilmartin) share the author's own perspectives on art and literature, which makes for an uncomfortable de-opaquing of the literary fourth wall.

But for all that, every time I read the book it has a profound impact on me, an impact that is arguably greater on its own terms than that of Davies' better books.If you can get past the flaws, there are some profound - and profoundly moving - truths about the human condition here.I stand by my review title: if you read it for what it says, rather than how it says it, you will be richly rewarded.And you'll probably get more out of it the older you are.

And just a closing thought....I re-read this right after reading Anthony Burgess' Earthly Powers - a novel about an ageing bachelor of literary bent who muses back on the events of his life following an interview where he's asked about the potential sainthood of a deceased acquaintance.I'm not implying anything, but it makes for an interesting comparison.

A life well lived
The Cunning Man will never be mistaken for the finest work of Robertson Davies, and the reader new to Davies should definitely start with the Deptford Trilogy in preference to this volume. The Cunning Man's plot is paper-thin, and merely a device that Davies uses to share the wisdom that he has accumulated in a long, eventful life.

A trifle from Robertson Davies is better than the best from most writers, and a reader of this book will be rewarded with an entertaining read, an introduction to some new philosophical ideas, and a knowledge of how one man has created a life worth living. One could do worse than to adopt Davies/Hullah's version of the Perennial Philosophy that `recognizes and reflects the Divine Reality in all things' as a guide to living life.
... Read more

Customer Reviews (16)

Find Your Undine
Well, what exactly to say about this trilogy stretching to over eleven hundred pages?So many things come to mind, and it would be impossible to give them all due consideration without writing a review at least half as long as the book(s). -- I'll deal with what I don't particularly fancy about the trilogy as a start:I don't like being confronted with gypsy Tarot readers who put menstrual blood in a fellow's drink to besot him, female spies with bedazzling psychic powers who also offer a good tumble when the praeternatural reading is over and art connoisseurs endowed with a very effective "evil eye" who bequeath their fortunes in Swiss numbered bank accounts upon their demise (and such like figures) around every corner.But such are the characters who populate all three books of the trilogy and whom we are supposed to take (to a certain extent at least) seriously. But these improbable characters are merely bothersome, it seems to me, on a rather comedic level.My deeper problem (and this was a problem with The Deptford Trilogy as well) is Davies's professorial tone here.Another reviewer has already remarked on his lack of passion.I should rather frame it thusly: Davies writes quite well and extensively ABOUT passion and characters - to borrow from Yeats, as Davies frequently does herein - full of passionate intensity, but he does not write WITH passion. He is not lyrical, not a stylist, not poetic.Rather, parts of this book read like Jungian sermons (coming, of course from Simon Darcourt, so obviously an alter ego of Davies himself). - This is, summarily, what I find problematic and dislike about the trilogy.

What I appreciate about The Cornish Trilogy is that it at least makes an attempt, however excruciating in the execution, to deal with the depths in us all.This is the reason I would recommend it, despite misgivings, to any literate and contemplative reader; there is at least a trace, certainly of Simon Darcourt, probably of Francis Cornish, in anybody even considering reading this opus - not to the exclusion of other characters, however rum.

E.T.A. Hoffman, as Davies portrays him, shuffling about in Limbo, awaiting his Fate, exclaims, "Undine- yes, my wonderful tale of the water nymph who marries a mortal, and at last claims him for her underwater kingdom; what does it not say about the need for modern man to explore the deep waters that lie beneath his own surface?"

Somewhere in this rambling, shaggy dog trilogy full of parodies, grotesqueries and academic in-jokes, the persevering reader is destined to come upon his or her undertow into the depths. - Reason enough to read, I say.

A fascinating story told beautifully
The Cornish Trilogy is a beautiful work of fiction as Robertson Davies takes the reader on a trip across Europe and North America to unravel the mysteries of the rather unusual Cornish family.It sheds light on the human condition as it explores such things as culture traditions, societal class barriers, love, desire, power, altruism and morality as part of a historical journey.

But is it art?
Davies's Cornish trilogy should be read by anyone with an interest in the philosophy of art -- questions of attribution, forgery and fakery, and authenticity pervade all three novels, which deal with literature, painting and music respectively. Art in general, and art objects in particular, take on a shadowy, slippery aspect in spite of the very palpable (and almost erotically desirable) qualities they have for Davies's characters. Aesthetic and spiritual experience are intertwined. But the style, while elevated, is never dry or preachy -- the characters are rounded and often delightfully vulgar and even the most intellectual threads of the story are brimming with life and humour.

Art a la Carte with a Side of Salacious Behavior
Robertson Davies' greatest strength has always been in his ability to create a protagonist whose adventures quickly intrigue you.One can debate the virtues of each novel in this trilogy, but the simple fact remains that as parts of a trilogy the story remains incomplete without reading all three.

Stories as intriguing as this do not often appear.You will travel between a thinly veiled Toronto and war-torn Europe, through generations of a family and across decades of time.A master storyteller, you will need to pay close attention (perhaps create a family tree) to understand how everyone fits together.The literary allusions could have you researching for months, and pepper the pages with just enough spice to add creedence to the education levels of the characters.

The main thread that ties all three books together is the main character, Reverend Simon Darcourt, who is on a quest to write the biography of a philanthropist with whom he was acquainted.To say that this is the entire story would be a gross understatement.The plot leaves few stones unturned in the lives of its characters, who three-dimensionally number in the dozens.

Give yourself a lot of time to read this book, because once you start you won't be able to put it down.

Good as a whole.
Robertson Davies' Cornish trilogy is good, in fact a kind of work of art. Its the second book (which I have already reviewed) which is the main attraction throughout. In fact the second book should be read first of all of the three, followed by the first and third in that order. The second book is a great piece of work and without it the other two would not stand as they do. Its much like a painting and the technique of preliminary drawings of the main work. The main work being the second book and the drawings the first and third books.

Although there are characters in the other two books who are interesting in their own right they have nowhere near the life and depth of Francis Cornish of "Bred in the Bone". These two books surround the great one on either side sort of like hangers on to a great man hoping for some of the glory themselves.

The first is concerned with the academic life in a Canadian University especially concerning the life of Maria Theotoky a great student of Renaissance legend Rebalais being mentored by the brilliant but socially inept Professor Hollier who is overwhelmed by the arrival of his old friend, the obnoxious Parlabane. Although interesting especially when discussing academic life and the jealousy evident when a reputation or fame is at stake, the novel does not really come to life in the same sense as the second. There are some characters who liven things up such as Maria's mother Mamusia the gypsy half of her. To be honest its difficult to tell where the male leads end and Maria begins, there is really little differentiation. A woman's aspects, as compared to the men involved, do not really come to light. The somewhat stale atmosphere of academia is never expunged by any kind of life, even from the female heroine. Still not bad at all.

The third book details the life of another of the characters in the first, i.e. Professor Darcourt, a priest but now successful academic and his and other's attempt to execute the estate of Francis Cornish, especially the use of the Cornish Foundation and its attempt to support the PhD of a gifted composer Hulda Schnakenburg. It's her fascinating mentor Dahl-Soot, as well as the spirit of Hoffmann who keeps this going.

All told the books enliven each other but the second one gives the whole thing a semblance of greatness. Its Davies' inability to really produce passion and spontaneity which prevents me from singing the books praises.

Good as a whole. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (18)

Entertaining and Well Written
I'd read the Cornish Trilogy and some of the Deptford Trilogy a few years before picking up the Salterton Trilogy.I read the Salterton books straight through, and enjoyed them.Unlike the other two, the Salterton Trilogy struck me as just a little dated, not because it doesn't discuss email or reflect recent political developments, but because social mores have changed somewhat over the last half-century, and so at times it seems a bit quaint.I could be quite wrong, but I suspect that even in a small, conservative Canadian town, folks may not be as prissy today as the characters in these books sometimes are.

Davies' style here also is "old school;" there's nothing experimental, or even modern, about his prose, which could have been written in the nineteenth century.But unless the reader would avoid any novels written more than twenty years ago as being too old fashioned (like some people won't watch a movie from the 1940s), none of this really detracts much from the experience, which is still a lot of fun.

Particularly compared with the other trilogies, the Salterton novels are light; there are many funny elements throughout the other trilogies, but the first two Salterton novels are frankly comedies, and the third is melodrama.The plots of all of them are rather slight, and in Leaven of Malice in particular, the ending is broadcast almost from the start. The characters, though, are very well developed, if a bit cartoonish.Davies is a masterful wordsmith, and excels at psychological detail.He delights in revealing imperfections; in fact, he seems unable to resist poking fun at all of his characters, so none of them comes off as particularly admirable, but at the same time none of these books shows any real darkness.

A number of the characters are found in each of the three novels, and there's just enough that ties them together to make reading them in order a good idea, so having the trilogy is convenient.

Should Be the Last Davies Book You Read
I am an incredible Davies fan, and have lived in and/or travelled to many of the places he writes about.This trilogy takes place in "Salterton", a thin veiling for Kingston, Ontario, Canada, and Queen's University, located there.

Unlike his other university-set novels, Salterton features contempt for the frivolity of faculty and persons who live in a small town.While not entirely inaccurate in his portrayal of a small university-centered Canadian town, it doesn't relish academia in the way that the Cornish trilogy does.

As always, the pages are rife with attention to detail and tangential storylines are fleshed out with loving care.It is as if seven or eight short stories collide into three great novels.If you enjoy these, I strongly recommend the Deptford and Cornish trilogies; both are better examples of Davies' literary gifts.

Quaint? I think not
Robertson Davies' "Salterton Trilogy" is a well-written, often funny and sometimes poignant look at the realistically odd occupants of Salterton, the deceptively quaint Canadian city with two cathedrals and one university.

"Tempest-Tost" opens with the organization of an amateur production of Shakespeare's "The Tempest." A motley crew of actors join it, including an exuberent professor, his quiet daughter, a quiet mama's boy, a beautiful rich girl, a womanizing soldier, and an infatuated schoolteacher. Love, ambition, jealousy and infatuation rapidly tangle together, climaxing in an unusually dramatic opening night.

"Leaven of Malice" is half satire and half mystery. The Salterton Bellman announces that Solly Bridgetower and Pearl Vambrace are engaged -- the only problem is that it isn't true. Professor Vambrace sees it as a personal affront, and sues the paper. Pearl and Solly are haunted by false rumors, reports, and claims about who faked the announcement. All they can do is try to find out themselves.

"Mixture of Frailties" opens with the death of Solly's domineering mother. Her will leaves money to Solly's family only if he produces a male heir with his wife Veronica (previously known as Pearl); until then, her money is to be used in a trust for a young female artistic hopeful, who will go to Europe for a few years to study whatever she is good at. And finding the right girl is only the start of Solly's problems.

The tone of the Salterton Trilogy is lighter and less introspective than Davies' other books. Sometimes it's outright hilarious (there's a girl called The Torso, for crying out loud!). The first book is perhaps the funniest and most real-seeming, but it's also rather unfocused because there is no plot. The second and third books are tighter, but a little more rarified in humor and a little more surreal in tone.

Solly Bridgetower is the unacknowledged center of the trilogy. He barely registers in "Tempest-Tost," but becomes the central figure of the second and third books. He's not a strong person, but he is a likable one. Pearl is only a little more prominent at first, but it's great to see her break out of her shell and become her own person. And without a doubt, Humphrey Cobbler is Davies' best character -- a vivid, devil-may-care artistic genius who winks and nudges in every book.

The Salterton Trilogy is often eclipsed by Davies' better-known Deptford Trilogy, but that doesn't mean it's bad. By no means. It's a pleasant and warmly amusing trio of interconnected stories, and ones you won't forget in a hurry. Highly recommended.

The wonder and fun starts here
This is Davies first trilogy, and, if I remember correct, his first novel was the lead-off to this, Tempest-Tost. Before writing novels, however, Davies had written several plays, so his first novel is quite accomplished. The Salterton trilogy is almost misnamed--yes, it does center around the town of Salterton, but the real center of the three books is Solomon Bridgetower. Although he is almost a minor character in the first book, he and his family are front stage in books two and three.

Tempest-Tost is about an amateur production of Shakespeare's The Tempest. The Salterton players assume they can have the use of the garden of their most famous citizen, and it is this assumption of community use that leads them into trouble. While no characters in the book undergo a sea-change, several characters do awaken from passive slumber to new lives, sometimes with mixed results. For anyone who has ever been involved in amateur theater, this is an extremely amusing tale. Others might find it belabored.

Not so with the second novel, which is about class and prejudice, but told in a Wodehousian manner. Winner of the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour (a Canadian award for best humor novel--I wish I could find a list of past award winners), Leaven of Malice concerns an engagement announcement in the local paper that was placed by neither bride nor groom. The resulting conflict between the two families brings up old academic rivalry, the worst of the new goody-two-shoe couple in town, and an escalation of lawyers. In some ways it is a mystery, too, as the two "lovers" attempt to find who had the malice to link their names in the public eye.

The concluding volume, A Mixture of Frailties, is about a trust established by Solomon's mother, and how it must be awarded to a specific individual. But finding the individual is only the start of Solomon's trouble, and the story follows two separate lines: one regarding Solomon and his need for a heir to rid himself of his mother's legacy, and one regarding the lucky trust recipient, and her entry into the world of opera.

There were certain things near to Davies' experience, it seems: theater, academic life, and trusts. Trusts can be found in both A Mixture of Frailties and the second and third books of the Cornish trilogy, academic life is featured in Leaven of Malice and The Rebel Angels, and theater productions in Tempest-Tost and The Lyre of Orpheus. I can easily see myself rereading Davies in ten years, and rediscovering all of this once again.

The Best Beach Book Ever
And I don't actually mean that in a derogatory sense.What Ido mean is that the Salterton Trilogy is a compelling romp of a read with enough intelligence and wit to cause one to want to read it in front of the fire come February.BUT...you can put it down and pick it up again weeks later and not feel disconnected.
I came rather late to Robertson Davies (university age), even though I grew up in Toronto and even went to Trinity College, U of Toronto, the fictionalized setting for "Rebel Angels"; my problem was that we were force-fed "Fifth Business" in high school.I hated the book (as it was taught, at least) so much that I never wanted to have anything else to do with Robertson Davies, ever.Fortunately, a friend in my sophmore year urged me to pick up Tempest-Tost, and a die-hard convert was born.Again, perhaps.The Cornish Trilogy is certainly more complex, and the Deptford astonishingly onion-like in its layers, but the Salterton is the most fun.Although the town of Salterton (in reality Kingston, Ontario, a charming old Loyalist city on the river) seems to exist as a somewhat rarefied sugarplum of 1950s sensibilities and prejudices, the characters are remarkably believeable and personable, the plots well paced and the action eminently suited to a comfy chair and a cup of tea.

The best characters in Tempest-Tost are Freddie Webster and Hector Mackilwraith, but Humphrey Cobbler is perhaps the most memorable.He manages to assert himself in all three of the books, if memory serves correctly, and it's a good thing.He is the epitome of the mad musical genius without being a complete cariacture.

The Salterton Trilogy is a perfect introduction to a great Canadian author, and a great cheer-up if life has been treating you shabbily. ... Read more

Book Description
Ramsay is a man twice born, a man who has returned from the hell of the battle-grave at Passchendaele in World War I decorated with the Victoria Cross and destined to be caught in a no man's land where memory, history, and myth collide. As Ramsay tells his story, it begins to seem that from boyhood, he has exerted a perhaps mystical, perhaps pernicious, influence on those around him. His apparently innocent involvement in such innocuous events as the throwing of a snowball or the teaching of card tricks to a small boy in the end prove neither innocent nor innocuous.

Fifth Business stands alone as a remarkable story told by a rational man who discovers that the marvelous is only another aspect of the real. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (57)

I really really really liked this book.
I read this book in about a week.I really really really liked it.I don't know why most people have never heard of this author, but I am making it my personal quest in life to tell everybody about him.Read this book.It will suck you in.

Alone on a DesertIsland
If I was to live alone on a desert island and could take the works of one author, it would be Robertson Davies.He writes literature that captures human nature - we can soar like angels and crawl, sadistic murderers - Davies knows and shows us humanity at it's best and worst and often, everyman, muddling through mediocrity.
His books are literary page turners written with a unique dry humor that will make you laugh out loud often, gasp in awe or surprise and feel broken hearted at others.He shows us the human condition with compassion and humor.
Something I love the most about Davies is that his books and trilogies, (Deptford, Salterton, Cornish), are interconnected in a complex web that never fails to surprise me.

Canadian literature at its finest
Fifth Business, a theatrical term actually invented by Davies for the novel, is meant to indicate the fifth of the main operatic players. The four main players' lives are entwined and influenced by the "Fifth Business" character, in a sort of subconscious synchronicity.

The main character in this first of Davies' Deptford trilogy, Dunstan Ramsay, is such a fifth business character. Without intent or effort, he shapes and defines the lives of those around him. In a beautifully woven and uniquely Canadian style that Davies made his own, Ramsay, Paul Dempster, Boy Staunton and the rest of the wonderfully believable characters capture the attention and the imagination of the reader.

This mainstay of high school English classes across Canada is well worth the read, even if you don't need to write a four-page essay on the major themes of the novel. Davies writes with humour and wit, with passion and pain. I guess I got lucky - I had to take it in grade 12 English, and then again in grade 13. Although it's a fairly short novel (under 300 pages), it's not a quick, unsatisfying read. It has substance without being too bulky, and I highly recommend it as the first introduction to Robertson Davies. It will definitely make you want to read more.

One can see why it's a Classic

In my very humble and very personal opinion, it is not for nothing that Robertson Davies has earned "international recognition"... I was hooked into Deptford before the book even began! The magic operates from the exergue in fact, where it is told what exactly is a fifth business, "Those roles which, being neither those of Hero nor Heroine, Confidante nor Villain, but which were nonetheless essential to bring about Recognition or the dénouement".After this "appetite whetter", the book opens on Dunstan Ramsay's memoirs, a rambling tale of many lives, where the detours are almost more interesting than the main story.

Davies' writing is fluid; to follow it is like strolling along a (sparkling) river, until the river inevitably joins the sea (ie, it all come together in the end!) And of course, with great writing comes great portraits - bewildered Mary Dempster, truculent Padre Blazon, bigger-than-life Boy Staunton, Liesl (...that one doesn't need any adjective) - along with thoughtful insights and quiet laughs.

I definitely give my thanks to the owner of the used books store who recommended this book! "The Manticore" - book #2 in the Deptford Trilogy - here I come!

Agreat book from Canada
This is one of the best book I have read for several years.
Fifth Business is also much better than the other two of the triology. ... Read more

Book Description
Hailed by the Washington Post Book World as “a modern classic,” Robertson Davies’s acclaimed Deptford Trilogy is a glittering, fantastical, cunningly contrived series of novels, around which a mysterious death is woven. World of Wonders—the third book in the series after The Manticore—follows the story of Magnus Eisengrim—the most illustrious magician of his age—who is spirited away from his home by a member of a traveling sideshow, the Wanless World of Wonders. After honing his skills and becoming better known, Magnus unfurls his life’s courageous and adventurous tale in this third and final volume of a spectacular, soaring work.

“Robertson Davies is one of the great modern novelists.”
—Malcolm Bradbury, The Sunday Times (London)
“Robertson Davies is a novelist whose books are thick and rich with humor, character and incident. They are plotted with skill and much flamboyance.” —The Observer (London) ... Read more

Customer Reviews (5)

Overview of "World of Wonders"
The theme of the novel "World of Wonders" by Robertson Davies, is "search for self"(Warlton 4) Through ought the novel, there is a constant search for who the main character, Mangus Eisengrim, truly is. The majority of the novel is Mangus telling his life story. During this story, Mangus lives "four different lives"(Warlton 5) First he was born with the given name Paul Dempster, a Reverend's. At the age of ten he ran away with the carnival and became Cass Fletcher and controlled a mechanical card-playing machine as a carnival act. Later he named himself Fastus LeGrand and worked as a stunt double in a travelling play. He finally became Mangus Eisengrim, a world famous illusionist. Countless times during his story he asks the question, "Who was I?"(61).

At the beginning of Paul Dempster's life there was no trouble with who he was. He was born prematurely and so, right from the start, he was a survivor. He also was a Reverend's son, and his mother was known to others as a "hoor"(24). He knew exactly who he was, but anted to be someone else. After running away with the carnival, or as he said "The carnival ran away with me.", he recalls that he was "prepared to do anything rather than go home." At the carnival he became known as Cass Fletcher. This initial change in who he was was the first sign that there was a conflict with who he was.

His time spent as Cass Fletcher, roughly eight years, was the most conflicting time of his life. In the carnival Cass operated a card-playing machine called "Abdullah"(49). He would sit inside the machine spy on his opponent's cards and slip better ones into Abdullah's hand. At point in his life Cass spent most of his time inside this contraption, perfecting his spying and card slipping and when he ate, and that was seldom, he would do it inside Abdullah as well. He was almost never seen or spoken too. This neglect and abuse led him to believe that he was nobody. He mentions "I was Nobody... I did not exist.". At this time his "search for self" came to the most obscure solution possible. He believed himself to be Nobody. However, when he was seen and acknowledged, it was mostly when he was on stage as "Abdullah, the undefeatable card-playing machine". This caused him to think that when he was not Nobody, he was Abdullah. His answer to "Who [am] I?" was either Abdullah, an inanimate object and a machine to trick an audience, or nobody at all. It wasn't until he was about eighteen, when the carnival he was working for went out of business, that he escaped being trapped in Abdullah. He moved to France and became a street performer. His fake passport had "Fastus LeGrand" as his name. So finally he was no longer, and would never again be, Nobody.

Early in Fastus LeGrand's career as a street performer he was offered a job as an actor in a play called "Scaramouche"(162). He was hired as a stunt double for a man named Sir John. All Fastus had to do was walk a tightrope and juggle some plates, but he had quite a problem imitating Sir John. A fellow actor said that he couldn't "get Sir John's rhythm."(167). As he began to get the idea, he realized that he was again hiding from the audience as he had done with Abdullah.

Was this to be another Abdullah? It was, but in a way I could not have foreseen. Experience never repeats itself in quite the same way. I was beginning another servitude, much more dangerous and potentially ruinous, but far removed from the squalor of my experience with [Abdullah]. I had entered upon a ling apprenticeship to an [egotism].

Fastus had to become Sir John. Eventually he succeeded, so much so that he was later accused of eating Sir John. "You ate Sir John... You ate the poor old ham."(224). Another crisis in his identity. Fastus learned to walk, act, speak, move, stand and probably even blink exactly the same as Sir John himself. During Fastus's time with the play he was known to most as Mungo Fetch. The name was decided on by other actors who thought it sounded appropriate for a man whose job it was to copy someone else. Fastus LeGrand, the only name he picked for himself, was thought to be far too noticeable, and a stunt double was to be kept secret. Again he needed to be hidden from the world. But when Sir John retired, Fastus was no longer Mungo Fetch, nor Sir John. He was beginning to win himself back. Once again, he was known only by a single name. But "Fastus LeGrand was still not who [he] truly was, or who he was meant to be."(Pierce 318)

Soon after Fastus stopped acting in Scaramouche, he was hired to fix toys for an old rich man. It took months just to fix a single toy because of the minute tinkering took to perfect the movement. But there were hundreds of toys that needed to be fixed. So Fastus spent almost every waking hour of his time working on them. Thus, he had virtually no contact with the outside world. He was even given residence with his employer, so he didn't even have to leave the old mans mansion. Now, instead of hiding behind Abdullah or Sir John, he was hiding behind his work. It was during his time fixing toys that Fastus changed once again. As he continued fixing toys for the old man, Fastus met the old mans niece, Lisel, whom he fell in love with. Since Fastus LeGrand was not his real name and he didn't care for it much they decided to change it again. Fastus would by no means return to being Paul Dempster, and even less so did he want to go back to Cass Fletcher. So Lisel named him Mangus Eisengrim. Becoming Mangus was the "final conflict with who he was."(Pierce 553) Mangus was finally rid of his former lives and had come to the end of his search for self. He had answered the question "Who [am] I?". He lived life as Mangus and became a world famous illusionist and eventually returned to acting, since he had such a skill with imitating people. He was, from then on, Mangus Eisengrim.

a satisfying end to the trilogy
I've just finished a Davies marathon:the whole Deptford trilogy in 3 days.I think it a testament to Davies' great storytelling ability that I could not put down any of the three books.I suggest reading them in close succession because the second book (The Manticore) sheds a lot of light on the other two books.It's interesting that in this book (the 2nd), we get 250 pages or so written from the point of view of a minor character:Boy Staunton's son.If you stop to think about it, the whole trilogy is structured around the question "Who killed Boy Staunton," so it shouldn't be surprising to read an account by his drunken son, the famous lawyer of his counseling sessions in Zurich.Rarely does one find such well-drawn characters these days in novels -- by the end, you'll feel like you've known Paul Demster for years, along with the simian Liesl, level-headed Ramsey and of course Demster's character, Eisengrim.

This book is a bit "deeper" than the first two as we find ourselves transported to an almost magic-realism portrait of myth and fantastical events in the World of Wonders.I actually enjoyed the first two books more although I still think this last book is a master work.Occassionaly Eisengrim's recounting of his life gets a bit tedious, but only because we are dying to resolve the mystery which finally gets solved in the closing pages.All in all, a memorable trilogy and a gripping read by one of the great 20th century writers.

Davies' Deptford Trilogy - A must-read
The only bad thing about Robertson Davies' Deptford Trilogy (FIFTH BUSINESS, THE MANTICORE, WORLD OF WONDERS) is that it had to end! Sparklingly clever, bawdy, poignant, erudite, and laugh-out-loud funny,Davies entertains in a wonderfully rich, old-world style.

A friend ofmine (who recommended the books, and to whom I will be forever grateful)put it this way: "Reading Robertson Davies is like sitting in a plush,wood-paneled library--in a large leather chair with a glass of excellentbrandy and a crackling fire--and being captivated with a fabulous tale spunby a wonderful raconteur."

The greatest novel of the twentieth century
This is the best novel of the century's best English language novelist.The plot is sure-fire (kid runs away with the carnival), the characters memorable (sideshow freaks, revealed to be--human beings!theater people,great and small, revealed to be--human beings!), the sins enormous(pederasty, pride, perhaps even murder), the virtues marvelous (love,devotion to love).The theme of this book, as with the other books in thetrilogy, is search for self--the main character of this book lives fourdifferent lives during his life.This book works on every level; it readswell as a story, gives you something to think about, and stands up to anynumber of readings you'd care to give it.(I've given it at least five.)

A Magician's Biography Unravels a Mystery
Davies uses the 'accidental' revelation of a great magician's life--by the magician himself--to complete the Deptford Trilogy and answer the mystery: "Who killed...?" Davies is at his storytelling best here, spinning out a strange, fascinating life story that begins when a young boy is captivated by a carnival magic show. By far the best book of the trilogy, this novel stands brilliantly on its own and is head and shoulders above the two recent novels that use almost the same plot: Mr. Vertigo, by Paul Auster, and Millroy the Magician, by Paul Theroux ... Read more

Book Description
A fascinating, larger-than-life character, Davies left a treasure trove of stories about him when he died in 1995 — expertly arranged here into a revealing portrait.

From his student days onward, Robertson Davies made a huge impression on those around him. He was so clearly bound for a glorious future that some young friends even carefully preserved his letters. And everyone remembered their encounters with him.

Later in life, as a world-famous writer, perhaps Canada’s pre-eminent man of letters (who “looked like Jehovah”), he attracted people eager to meet him, who also vividly remembered their meetings. So when Val Ross set out in search of people’s memories, she was faced with a wonderful embarrassment of riches.
The one hundred or so contributors here range very widely. There are family memories, of course, and memories from colleagues in the academic world who knew him as a professor and the founding master of Massey College at the University of Toronto.

Predictably, there are other major writers like Margaret Atwood and John Irving. Less predictably, there are people from the world of Hollywood, such as Norman Jewison and David Cronenberg (who remembers Davies on-set, peering through a camera lens as he researched his newest novel). And we even hear from his barber, and from his gardener, Theo Henkenhaf.

Some speakers contribute just a lively paragraph; others several pages. Yet all of them, through the magic of Val Ross’s art, help to create an intriguing, full-colour portrait of a complex man beloved by millions of readers around the world. ... Read more

Book Description
Hailed by the Washington Post Book World as "a modern classic," Robertson Davies's acclaimedDeptford Trilogy is a glittering, fantastical, cunningly contrived series of novels, around which amysterious death is woven. The Manticore—the second book in the series after Fifth Business—follows David Staunton, a man pleased with his success but haunted by his relationshipwith his larger-than-life father. As he seeks help through therapy, he encounters a wonderful cast ofcharacters who help connect him to his past and the death of his father. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (12)

Great stuff if read as part of the trilogy
This is the second installment in the Deptford Trilogy, and my first bit of advice is that you read it in conjunction with Fifth Business, the first installment.I read Fifth Business years ago, and loved it, and struggled to remember the details of it as I began The Manticore.It isn't absolutely necessary to remember every word of the first in order to enjoy the second, but each one does help to accentuate the other.

The Manticore is great writing from a great writer.Davies prose is so fluid that they seem to absord into your mind with very little effort.He expresses complex thoughts in ways that are so graceful and elegant.And he's not afraid to deal with difficult themes; indeed, that seems to be his main purpose in writing.Yes, he tells a fascinating story, but his real aim is to get at the core of his characters, find out what motivates them and what makes them human.David Staunton is just the character to use for such an experiment.As an eminent lawyer, now undergoing psychoanalysis to determine where his life went astray, he puts himself on trial as if he were in a court of law and demands not just honest self-assessment but also evidence to support his conclusions about his own persona.It makes for a fascinating character sketch, and great reading.

There are no simple answers here to life's great questions, and that can be frustrating for those who want to be able to wrap a nice, neat bow around this book.Equally frustrating is the rather contrived ending, which includes the introduction of a new character whose purpose in the novel seems to be nothing more than to impart a valuable piece of wisdom to our main character.It also includes a journey into a deep cave, reminiscent of Plato's Republic, which is meant to reveal some profound life lesson but may just confuse and bewilder some readers.And, being the middle installment in a trilogy, this book doesn't have a proper beginning or ending.But that doesn't make it not worth reading.It just means that you should read parts one and three as well.

Intelligent and beautifully written
This is my first Davies novel and I suspect I started with the wrong one in the series; however, MANTICORE was a fascinating read. In this, David Staunton comes to Zurich for psychoanalysis with a Jungian therapist after his father dies in a very strange accident.(Boy Staunton, his father, died in an auto accident with an egg sized stone of pink Canadian granite in his mouth) You think we're going to get a payoff on the mystery, which we eventually do, but we first have to go through Davey's life and get his personality integrated. The descriptions are very rich, which is a good thing because the book is mostly narrative.Despite sounding tiresome, the book for the most part is interesting and an enjoyable and challenging read. If you are a first time reader of Davies like me, I would suggest you start with the first book of this series, FIFTH BUSINESS before you read MANTICORE.

It's just filler
I think the problem with this book is that Davies wrote the trilogy so that each book could stand by its own and that they need not be read in a particular order. While that sounded like a great idea initially, it seems to only work in theory. At least a half of this book is a blatant recap of Fifth Business, and most of the rest of it is an extrapolation into the very mundane. Everything that is unique to this book (because all three books have some exclusive content) is very non-consequential, and can be inferred or predicted by reading Fifth Business. The book is basically a very poor remake of Fifth Business, lacking an original story (also keeping in mind that Fifth Business has at least twice as many events), depth (F.B. is engrossed in psychology, philosophy and religion- in this book, it's all almost an afterthought, despite it revolving around a man seeking psychological help), and a good character- Davy is so one dimensional compared to Dunny, and even to Boy! The only reason you should read this is to get the "extended ending" that isn't included in F.B.- it reveals who killed Boy. But I'm sure that will also be discussed in World of Wonders.

While Fifth Business is one of my all-time favorite books, I wouldn't recommend this book, even if you like the other books in the trilogy.

Complex & interesting!
The life of the protagonist--whom we previously knew just an appendage to his father's colossal persona in Fifth Business--is analyzed.The story has many sockets within sockets and abundant psychological theory.Robertson Davies is so artful sn author that the information on archetypes never feels as though it came out of an encyclopedia.Rather, it is essential to the character's trajectory.Highly recommended.Makes me proud to be a Canadian!

A Jungian perspective
The story is everything with Davies books.He captured me with the tale of David Staunton, who is only a minor character in Fifth Business.

As with Dunstan Ramsay, the narrator of the first book of the Deptford Trilogy, David Staunton is very much a character who needs to be brought back into balance from an extreme psyche.The book explores his eccentric character through Jungian psychology. Since Davies daugther is a Jungian psychologist, he no doubt used her as a resource in compiling the profile of Staunton.

I really find with Davies books, I find out more about myself, and new ways to view myself, through the characters that he writes about.Perhaps that is why I enjoy them so much. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (13)

Very disturbing prose butchery
I am told that Robertson Davies has written good books. This book is not one of them and now I, for one, will probably never find out about the others. At times the book rises to mildly entertaining competence, especially in the first 30 pages or so.

This book should be banned unless the middle section that attempts to emulate James Joyce is excised. The chapter is a travesty. It is painful to read, both because of the miserable stylistic failures which only serve to illuminate Davies' inadequacies as a writer; and out of sympathy for the author who seems like a nice guy and should not have such a literary legacy to besmirch his name. It is astonishing that a published author could write such miserable tripe and allow it to be included in his work, it is troubling that an editor and publisher would do him the disservice of allowing it to go forth and afflict mass readership. The book might have warranted two whole stars were it not the context for such a miserable debacle.

The end of the book constitutes an horrific attempt at evoking no less a personage than Goethe- a triumph of chutzpah that surpasses even the iniquity of the Joycean chapter. One leaves this book with a feeling that one must do literary penance for having read it, or perhaps undertake a sort of ritual cleansing.

Murther and Walking Spirits
This book is not intellectually demanding, but for what it is, is light, pleasant reading.It gives one person's view of Canadian history from 1776 to the present, weaving the dead (but participating) protagonist's forbears into a plot laced with sympathy and occasionally wry (Canadian?) humor.I found it a rewarding read, and don't hesitate recommending it to others with an interest in history and Europe's contribution to modern-day North America.

It's Like a Film Festival in Purgatory
My quick advice: if you love Davies and you've read absolutely everything else, nothing I say will stop you.

If you love Davies and there's something else you haven't read, go read it before this one.

If you haven't read Davies, please, please don't start here because this is awful and just not indicative of what a great writer he is.

Davies was clearly touched by a bit of nostalgia, did some digging into his family tree and then decided to build a long boring story around it. The book is deceptive because it starts out as a murder and you expect to witness the ghost inflict revenge in some cunning fashion. No such excitement. Try two hundred years of immigrant movements disguised as one of those excruciating never ending black and white marathon film festivals. If this makes no sense the book probably won't either.

The good the bad and the just plain crappy
My name is Igor Turzo and I come from Forigien Land. In my country this would be master peice but IN CANADA:What a piece of crap!this book had no hook, this book has no scholarly reviews online, I WAS FORCED TO READ THIS GARBAGE FOR GRADE 12 ENGLISH AND I CAN"T FIND ANY REVIEWS FOR IT. THIS SHOWS HOW POPULAR THIS BOOK WAS. Davies really lulled me to sleep. way to go, this is the number one reason why canadian authors stay as minority writers. I Suggest never reading this mind numbing book. Thank you for ur time in reading my own scholarly review

Great book, albeit "roughly translated"!
An interesting book, I really enjoyed it. Who else but R. Davies could kill off his main character in the first sentence, and then chronicle the experiences of the disembodied ghost for over three and a half hundred pages... and yet keep it increasingly interesting? He does it. Incidentally, Davies believed that physical death would not spell the annihilation of the animating spirit of man (a belief to which I am in full agreement). He once speculated about his own afterlife by saying: "I haven't any notion of what I might be or whether I'll be capable of recognizing what I've been, or perhaps even what I am, but I expect that I shall be something." Murther is a really interesting fictional account of what that "something" might be like.

The moment that Connor Gilmartin is struck dead in his own bedroom by his wife's lover, he finds that he is still alive! Perhaps even more alive than he has ever been; he is in a state that the opening chapter calls "roughly translated". He's a ghost; a walking spirit. This new state is fraught with all manner of possibilities and limitations. For one thing, his powers of awareness and observation are heightened, but he is unable to communicate with any of the living, no matter how he jumps up and down or shouts in their ear. And for that typically Robertsonian twist, the great author borrows an idea from the Bhagavad Gita which states that after death one maintains a connection with what one was thinking about at the moment of death. (It behoved a man to be concerned with what he was thinking of as he died)! So... what was Connor Gilmartin thinking of at that moment? Well, he was processing the fact that he had just caught his wife involved with a man (a co-worker) whom he particularly despised for many reasons, and secondly, he was thinking of a particular work-related problem concerning an upcoming Film Festival in Toronto to which this man (his murderer) was vying with him for position as lead writer. Now Connor is dead, aware of his wife's duplicity in covering up the murder but unable to vindicate himself in any way, and furthermore he is bound inextricably to his own murderer who attends the Film Festval as lead writer in his place. In a surreal twist, at the Film Festival, what Connor views on the screen is not what the others are seeing, but rather it is a documentary of his own ancestry... (one's life flashes before one's eyes??) He is seeing something wholly personal. After the festival he is instantly translated back to see how his wife is winding up her affairs... he sees that she has actually found a way to profit from his untimely demise. This story was great right to the end... with the disclaimer that in my opinion it is important to remember it as a fanciful rather than a literal view of what happens after your last breath. He raises a lot of interesting things to think about though. Not the best example of Davies' work, but still worthy of four and a half stars to the best Canadian writer ever. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (3)

Canada's greatest Jungian
The biographer's reverence for her subject is restrained but evident.If there was a dark side to this great old man of Canadian letters, hardly a shadow of it is to be found here.The figure who emerges from this book is a small-town boy -almost a backwoods boy - whose imagination flourished in the unbearable stuffiness of early twentieth-century Ontario. Davies' greatest private enthusiasm seemed to be his repeated trips to the U.K.He did a less-than-outstanding Oxford BA, and fell in love with the place, there meeting an Australian who became his wife.

Fans of Davies' eleven novels will find ample links between the life and the works; they will also learn much about his unremitting early attempts to become known as a playwright, a genre in which he made less much of a mark than with his novels and his journalism (the latter effort highlighted by his 1950s and 60s stint as editor of The Peterborough Examiner).

Davies' role in the early 1950s startup of the Stratford Festival is an accomplishment not to be overlooked; for that alone, he would merit top ranking in the annals of Canadian Shakespeariana. If the Bard was Davies' first intellectual love, Carl Jung would likely be the second.My favourite passage in the 700-plus pages of this splendid biography is on 461-62, where Davies is quoted at some length on how Jung viewed the "second half" of life - the 40-plus years - as the truly magic time