Masters of Atlantis

Masters of Atlantis by Charles Portis (1985) Since Dog of the South was my favorite book I read last year, I wanted to read something else by Charles Portis right away, and this was his next novel. It’s probably unfair to give a book such expectations—and I didn’t like it as much as the earlier book—but I liked it a lot. It’s about an American man, Lamar Jimmerson, who, while overseas, early in the last century, discovers an ancient text via some questionable characters—and then makes it his life’s calling—Gnomonism—for better or for worse. He meets an Englishman named Sydney Hen, gets him involved, and later, back in the States, establishes a temple in Indiana. There, the ambitious Austin Popper gets involved and helps the Gnomon Society rise to new levels. Those are the big three, and we follow their progression for decades, as they break apart, feud, come back together. There are lots of other characters involved as well, each one coming along to add another wrinkle to the absurdity, as the Society has its ups and downs—and eventually they all end up in Texas. The book has a very organic feeling, and while there’s something ridiculous and hilarious on nearly every page, still it feels like it could all be actual history—as it’s no stranger, essentially, if you really think about it, than reality. There isn’t really any climax that it’s moving toward, just an ongoing, slow disintegration, as the characters age, don’t become any wiser, and continue to suffer setbacks and humiliations. I guess it’s much more like real life than anything. That might sound like it could be depressing, but for some reason, I found it weirdly comforting—in that, aside from absolute delusion, the only sane way to look at our lives—the strange contradictions of being a human—knowing that we can never really know anything—is through being able to laugh about it all.

12.28.23