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“Veil of the Soul is not a
retelling of Edgar Allan Poe’s life, or even -- P.D. Cacek, author of Night Players,
“Trey R. Barker must have channeled the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe to write this
passionate tale. VEIL OF THE SOUL is absolutely brilliant. It captures the
pain, loneliness and twisted genius of the
long dead master. Whatever you do, don’t miss this one.” – Gary Jonas, author of One
Way Ticket To Midnight
Review
posted on Feoamante.com... VEIL OF THE
SOUL
When questioned on Poe, most laymen speak
solely of bells, ravens, opium, and alleyways. The lettered consider all his poesy and his
narrative. Some even teach his criticism. But, in all honesty, we have to face facts. Far
too many, in both camps, allow the shrouds of time and ancient speculation to blur
reality. It's a shame, really, the way one of America's greatest writers has been reduced
to a drug legend. Rant mode off. That's not why we're
here. See, back in 1849 there was this week
where Poe sort ofâ?¦disappeared. On September 27th he boarded a boat for Baltimore. On
October 3rd - he was found zoned out in a public house. He was transferred to Washington
College Hospital, where he passed away four days later. He never fully regained
consciousness while in medical care. Gone for one week. One week? Hardly something to get
up in arms about. Especially for a widower with a taste for liquor (that one's not a
rumor). Still, that week has garnered more attention, more dissertations, and more
conjecture than even Paul McCartney's Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band
disappearance. This is where Trey steps in. He gives us
back that one, lost week. And that's it, really. VEIL OF THE SOUL is just a week in the
life of E. A. Poe. But it's that last week. That vastly-rumored lost week. While being familiar with the background
made me appreciate this chappy all the more, it wasn't necessary. The story stands alone.
It starts with Poe, in a hospital bed, hallucinating about dead women. Not dead women in
general, but very particular dead women. Women important in his life. Poe sings to them. Over the space of 50+ pages, Barker
slips you in and out of Poe's mind, his song, and his history. He steps through his life
and all his loves. He tests the rhythm of a poetical dirge. His mother is there, Eliza.
Starting with her, you see how women influenced Poe positively and men negatively. That
should assist you in uncovering the roots of his poetry. That all of these important
women, Eliza, Mrs. Allan, Virginia, et al, died with Poe still lost in the folds of their
attentions - does that speak to his fascination with death? With loss? Lucidity, and its
absence, is a tool that the gifted Barker works well. He shifts us from the hospital bed
to a past memory, then to another past memory, then back to the bed. It works, informing
and disturbing the reader as the narrator loses himself between history and consciousness.
All in all, the most sympathetic and authentic treatment of Poe's final days I've ever
read. And I've read a few. Some words on the package. First off,
it's a small press chapbook. Bubblejet print on a cardstock cover and SOP copy paper
inside. Stapled. The cover art, a gothic, deep south silhouette by Mary Bullock, is
stunning. I think, perhaps, that it portrays the flavor of Poe's "Lenore" or,
maybe, "Bridal Ballad." The text editing is something to brag about, considering
the generally deplorable text editing in many small press operations these days. The
chappy, as a whole, is easily worth the $6.00 cover charge. So give it four BookWyrms, Eddie, before
I start reciting "The Bells" at you and stick it in your head forever.
Review by
William D. Gagliani Veil of the
Soul Don't let anyone tell you the small
press isn't vibrant. At least in our field, where interesting chapbooks and independent
anthologies are cropping up like tulips everywhere you look. I hope the "large"
press is paying attention these days, because the quality of the writing and the packaging
seems to be increasing exponentially. This chapbook, the second by Trey R. Barker in
recent months, is a steal at the price and it will enhance your collection, too, thanks in
part to the striking cover art by Mary Bullock. It's so completely different from the
author's previous "Where the Southern Cross the Dog" that I thought it deserved
its own mention. Without counting words, I'd peg it at
about novella length— one long, nightmarish monologue narrated by none other than
Edgar Poe, whom we can safely consider the patron saint of horror, if you will. He felt
it, saw it, lived it, wrote it, and really died in it (no matter what the cause, which is
still being debated). No one embodies our field's poetic and narrative potential as much,
not even Stoker himself, and even Poe's excesses have ingrained themselves on our minds
until they are no longer excessive. What better narrator to delve into the horror of his
life, even as he himself prepares to make the final journey? Indeed, this work began life as a
one-man stage play in which Poe sees the events of his past life swirl together and apart
like sepia-toned images superimposed in blurs that come tantalizingly into and out of
focus. The novella version coveys that notion well, that past and present are and aren't
one, and that fiction and biography are and aren't the same. In addition, Barker's Poe
wallows in self-pity both annoying and endearing, perhaps all too truthfully revealing
what each of us may feel when our time comes. Interwoven strands of Poe's writings anchor
us in the master's work, but cast us adrift again in the stormy seas of his pain and, even
worse, his sadness at the constant touch of Death. Barker's trip through the corridors of
Poe's mind is highlighted by the influence women had on him, beginning with his mother, an
actress. But Death takes them all, one by one, never leaving Poe's side. Even as success
flirts with Poe's ego, he is reduced to pathetic begging for his guardian John Allan's
financial help. The tone is well-maintained through the relatively short span, though
slightly jarring modernisms creep into the narrative occasionally, But Trey Barker's
research and his grasp of Poe's life lifts the reader past any such obstacles. In the end,
one is left saddened and depressed, yet somewhat exhilarated for the chance to see through
Poe's woeful, addictive and ultimately fascinating gaze. |
