Titus Alone

Titus Alone starts pretty soon after Gormenghast's ending, where our central 'jumping' protagonist has finally followed the pounding of his blood and has left the castle to try and forge his own path through an unknown world. And that's pretty much our story here: Titus making his way through a land wildly unfamiliar, and rather startlingly technological, after being constrained to the almost medieval tendencies of Gormenghast proper, and meeting, befriending (and antagonizing) a host of eccentric characters, while going nowhere in particular, and in not much of a hurry.

-----

There is a problem here. Obviously this is due to this book being but the first of a projected, hypothetical few that would follow around Titus outside the confines of his ancestral home. Books that, due to Peake's untimely death, never came to be.
As such, the novel is an oddity, and it stands alone in more than just its eponym.

When a child's identity is taken from him, another role placed upon him, his needs and wants stifled by ritual and rule, he gets stuck. With no way to be what he would be, forced into a role not of his choosing, the child becomes unhappy with his lot, and with a certain mindset, profoundly aware of being denied what he could have been, and what he still might be.
Because of this, outside of any plans for the future, Peake first needed to address this in a quest for self-actualization in order to let Titus become what he could without outside input.

The problem is though that Peake seems to have had a definite idea going in. Titus was first to relinquish himself of his past, to be mentally uprooted from the shadow of his home, just as by leaving the castle he was uprooted physically from its bedrock.
But, its shadow stretched far. Or rather. Its shadow was nowhere to be found.
In making contact with the outside world, Peake found, as Titus did, that no-one, neither low nor high, base or virtuous, friend or foe, had ever heard of the castle Gormenghast, and the quest of identity was stalled.

Under a fracturing mind, assaulted by the early onset of dementia, the book that was to be the positive 'becoming' of a boy, a boy previously held back from manhood by trauma, violence and too much self-awareness, became a book about the assault of madness, about people gazing in incredulous disbelief and a desperation, a mounting need for a verification of one's own past. A gazing back at the accomplishments and a yearning to behold the scenery of yesteryear, its better days, its familiarity.

-----

So, in this book, Titus is still struggling to get out from under the shadow of his ancestral home, a shadow more in his mind than anything, as the world at large doesn't even seem to be aware of the enormous all- encompassing castle that once dominated Titus' entire thinking.
When we meet him at the start of the novel, this seems to have already been working on him for quite some time. Throughout the story the characters Titus meets keep questioning his outlandish tales concerning the castle, his family and his clash with Steerpike and as a result, the further along he gets on his journey, the more uncertain he gets to be about whether his ancestral home has ever even been real. It becomes so bad that he wonders whether he has been asleep and dreaming his whole life. Insanity and the grip one has on reality is a theme that comes heavily into play by the end of the novel. It comes to dominate the plot, until the story climaxes with a malicious and deliberately sustained assault on Titus' mental stability. As plots go, it's rather unique, but don't get me wrong here, it's very interesting, but if you're unaware as to why this book is the way it is, it might just leave a confusing taste in your mouth. Especially if you're expecting more along the lines of books 1 and 2.

But despite the complexities at play, with all that made this book what it came to be, and besides the darker tone, Titus Alone is still recognizably Peake, even though a difference in style and pacing is apparent throughout.
The turgid but beautiful prose and mannerisms from the first two books has somewhat evaporated, because as we have left the castle and its ancient bedrock of ritual and custom behind, so the writing has left a certain wel-constructed and glorious ponderousness in its shadow. The ridiculous grandeur of the Groan family and their meandering lives has gone, and because of that what's left is a plot that's rather a bit more fast-paced than the previous books, but that feels more aimless, as it's one in which our main character has far less agency than a quest of self-discovery would actually merit.
Peake's penchant for eccentricity in his characters is back and it's just as impressive here as it was in previous installments, although the reduced page count leaves little room for them to linger.

It's a shame then that whatever the grand plan was for the world of Gormenghast it was never fully completed as Mervyn Peake died from the consequences of Dementia, leaving book 3 Titus Alone, somewhat incomplete (but serviceable) and book 4 void, bar its rough opening pages.

There appears to also be a book written by Peake's widow elaborating on the rough pages of book 4: Titus Wakes and published on the anniversary of Peake's death in 2009. And a somewhat longer short story titles A boy in Darkness from where and when I know not.

-----

More than child, more than youth,

but violence and tragedy and awareness

of being upstart; of being seperate

and against all that has come before,

with the doubt and the angst this brings,

it all has made of him yet less than a man.

It has made of him Titus Alone.

Muzzlehatch... I can see why Peake

drew him so much. A giant,

In every way that matters.

Emulation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Boy in darkness. Law and Sin.

Succour, and of loving a restless soul.

The mother, and the wandering Oedipus.

Society's flotsam gathered in

subterranean echoes, and detailed in

the water's fire-lit reflection.

Science's retaliation draws violence

from darkness. Madness leaps.

Crush a man's face, watch him die.

Cloudburst of fauna, revealing the trauma

dealt to the heart, of when joy was ripped from an

already joyless world, in a moment's roar.

Pain finally brought home to a mind locked

in shocked denial.

So we sever the ties, and tread a new path,

risen from love and inextricable hate.

Oh the human soul, so complex.

A loving/ hating engine.

And of course all the ladies love Titus,

or want him at least. Oh, to be a mystery,

to be insane, to be that which stirs the heart.

Yeah... but not really.

But the boy in darkness is the boy alone,
and too much awareness, of the self and others
does not allow for anything but the most truthful
of loves. All else is manipulation and will
be responded to as such.
Hurts and fallout.

And fallout leads to despondency,
despondency leads to annoyance,
annoyance leads to hate.
Hate begets obsession,
and a malicious plan is formed.

Echoes of whispers, become
fully formed, become made real,
become a device of disruption, fueled
by an engine of hate, to despoil a mind.

Run, Titus.

Violence anchors the boy in darkness.
Violence unto those who would save,
 and to those who would hurt,
Pain displaced, anger knifed short.
Tears at dawn.

This part got me though, I must
admit

The past made real.
The present rules.
The future beckons.

-----

Stray Thoughts:
-One of the most intriguing things which struck me, and which in Titus Groan (book 1) is already occasionally remarked upon is that our titular character's eyes are violet...
And I'm wondering now, if this is where that fantasy trope comes from. I remember having seen and read about it numerous times and here in this book I am wondering if this is where it originated.

- Gormenghast and Ombria in Shadow.
The lord with the violet eyes and the white hair.
This added to the similarities in the telling of Gertrude Groan's story: Titus Groan p 211: "... But the prince with stars for his eyes and a new-moon for his mouth didn't mind..." See also p213 the throwaway comment "...I might be the moon Goddess, but that's improbable..."

Honestly, there's nothing here to concretize the theory, but it feels increasingly pleasant to imagine that Gormenghast is the light city to Ombria's dark. Or light to Ombria's shadow. Either way it's undeniable that Ombria in Shadow the novel has greatly been influenced by Peake's creation.
A shadowed city built on the stagnant ruins of another. If anyone's got ideas on this I'd love to hear it.