.com Review
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Nick Bantock first burst onto the literary scene in 1991 with his remarkable illustrated novel Griffin &
Sabine ( /exec/obidos/ASIN/0877017883/%24%7B0%7D )--which was as much art as it was artifice. While chronicling the
correspondence between two mysterious lovers, Bantock peppered his book with visual delights--macabre post cards,
intricately designed stamps, exquisite envelopes that open to disclose hand-written letters. Sabine's (
/exec/obidos/ASIN/0811801802/%24%7B0%7D ) and The Golden Mean ( /exec/obidos/ASIN/0811802981/%24%7B0%7D ) soon followed
to complete the trilogy. In many respects, The Museum at Purgatory resembles its predecessors, mixing metaphysics and
art in a way meant to both puzzle and delight its readers. The narrator offers the basic premise early on: "My name is
Non, and as Curator of the Museum here at Purgatory I am required by statute to facilitate, without judgment, the
progress of all collectors assigned to these halls. It is my responsibility to act as their souls' guardian, as well as
preserver of their accumulated treasures." Non then goes on to give a brief overview of the layout of Purgatory, a city
that "takes a meditative, non-partisan view of reality" and where visitors are "faced with fundamental questions of
self-worth" that must be resolved before they can move on.
In other words, this stopping place between heaven and hell is one big analyst's couch. Non's introduction to Purgatory
scans like the overly formal, academic language one finds on informational panels in natural history museums--no doubt
Bantock's intention. Unfortunately, this can become wearing after a while, and it isn't until the second half of the
book when Non tells his own story (as sed to the histories of the various "collections" under his care) that the
prose loosens up somewhat.
But it's the illustrations that make Bantock's books special; it's unfortunate that several of them look as if they've
escaped from a Dorling Kindersley guidebook--photographs of objects on stark backgrounds with a caption explaining their
significance or use. Yet this museum contains some lovely examples of its author's art. As always, his stamps and
postcards are exquisite--and how many cards are postmarked Nirvana or bear stamps from Inferno? This book may not equal
the mystery or sheer beauty of the Griffin & Sabine trilogy, but Nick Bantock fans will still find plenty to intrigue
and amuse. --Alix Wilber
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From Publishers Weekly
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The author/artist of Griffin and Sabine, The Venetian's Wife and The Forgetting Room creates another
lavishly illustrated fantasia, this time drawing up the fictional catalogue of a museum located in Purgatory.
Envisioning that shadowy middle kingdom as a vast storehouse for the memories and artifacts of earthly existence,
Bantock invents his own compelling version of the afterlife, in which the dead are required to examine objects culled
from their lives and thereby decide their own es. This scholar's dream is presided over by Curator Non, who suffers
from a rare form of amnesia; until he remembers who he was in life, he must remain in Purgatory. Advising 10 other
souls-in-transit on their collections, he picks up from each a hint of what the objects from his own collection might
look like. The tour of these assemblages, documented both in text and images, begins with the Winter room. Alice Seline
Winter, "timid as a pygmy sparrow," is represented by mangy taxidermic specimens, animal s welded to rocks, and
French cards, all part of a larger collection she compiled to console herself for her drab existence. Another
room is occupied by six magical carpets purportedly belonging to a familiar figure in literary history, Edward
Fitzgerald, the translator of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Other chambers feature "entomological amalgams" (fantastic
insects pieced together from loose legs, wings and pincers), cryptic board games, miniature mummies and an imaginary
history of spinning tops. The connections between the objects on display and the personalities and es of their
collectors are interesting, but the reader is left wishing the objects weren't quite so dark and musty. Bantock's
fascination with the arcane gives the catalogue a convincing patina, but it's his exactingly detailed four-color
illustrations, vivified by imaginative flourishes and fanciful devices that make his books unique among their genre.
West Coast author appearances. (Nov.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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