The Library of America is providing a valuable service to all devotees of American literature by providing reliable texts of so many important American writers. Here, they have done an excellent job of presenting the three best novels of America's first professional novelist. However, Brown only wrote six novels altogether, and anyone who cares about "Wieland," "Edgar Huntly," and "Arthur Mervyn" will probably also want "Ormond" in the package, as well as the fragments "Memoirs of Stephen Calvert" and "Memoirs of Carwin, the Biloquist."

I was pleased to see that the editorial review of this (typically gorgeous) American Library Series entry stole my breath. Brockden Brown's fascinating and brutal gothic novels are the true foundation of what's dark about American literature. Perhaps even more irresponsible than Poe in his fascination with the grotesque (spontaneous combustion, anyone?), Brockden Brown long anticipates Poe and Freud (and Faulkner and Jackson and ...) in his bleak explorations of our most terrible fears, and our worst secrets. Without scenes like the axe murder in "Wieland," would we have King's (or Kubrick's) "The Shining"? Impossible. Let's hope that the ALS will add a Volume 2 to this one, including Brockden Brown's lesser known (and impossible to find) works like "Ormond."

Charles Brockden Brown is known as the "Father of the American novel" and is considered to be our first professional author. At least by those who do consider him at all. To be perfectly frank, I'd never really heard of the guy before now. But this excellent gothic tale, which was based on the true story of a farmer who thought that angels had commanded him to kill his own family, is so clearly the forerunner of the fiction of everyone from Hawthorne and Melville to Poe and Henry James to H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard right on up to Shirley Jackson and Stephen King, that it is hard to believe that his work is not better known nor taught more often.

Wieland, his first novel, tells the story of a religious fanatic who builds a temple in the seclusion of his own farm, but then is struck dead, apparently by spontaneous combustion. Several years later, his children, in turn, begin to hear voices around the family property, voices which alternately seem to be commanding good or evil and which at times imitate denizens of the farm. Are the voices somehow connected to a mysterious visitor who has begun hanging around? Are they commands from God? From demons? Suffice it to say things get pretty dicey before we find out the truth.

This is a terrific creepy story which obviously influenced the course of American fiction. Brown develops an interesting serious theme of the role that reason can play in combating superstition and religious mania, but keeps the action cranking and the mood deliciously gloomy. The language is certainly not modern but it is accessible and generally understandable. It's a novel that should be better known and more widely read, if not for historical reasons then just because it's great fun.

GRADE: A

I am impressed with the reviews on this site because they are so deservedly glowing. I read this book when I was an undergraduate at the University of Wisconsin Madison, and was amazed at the creative genius this man had, as well as the destructive power of critical dismissal. Given, he may not have written the most perfectly structured novel in history, but give the guy a break. He was a professional author from a time when, even if you were a best seller, it only paid just enough to get by. He had to hurry his output to keep up with his grumbling stomach. However, as far as pure entertainment value, and heart stopping plot twists he is second to none. This man should definitely be read more and given more credit as the grand-father of gothic writing. Given, he is nowhere near Poe, but who is? He is far ahead of his time (late 18th century) in psychological exploration and X-files-esque ponderings. If you want a book that will entertain, frighten, and shock you look no further. I also highly recommended Memoirs of a Sleepwalker if you liked this novel and are looking for something along the same lines.

Charles Brockden Brown's first novel, 1798's "Wieland," is an outstanding, riveting work fraught with anxieties over the new American nation and its enlightened foundations. Set sometime between 1763 and 1775, "Wieland" is narrated by Clara Wieland, and concerns the fate of her family and friends - her brother Theodore, and their friends Pleyel and Catharine. Clara is a woman born and raised into a secure world of enlightenment rationality. She is a model of Wollstonecraftian feminism - educated, astute, and benevolent.

Clara's narrative begins with a recitation of her family history - her Anglo-German roots and an account of the family's migration to the American colonies, to wit, Pennsylvania. Following an account of her father's religious enthusiasm and apparent spontaneous combustion, Clara shows herself and her brother, who equally partition the family estate, living in perfectly rational harmony. The estate of Mettingen is an enlightened utopia, where the Wielands and the Pleyels discuss literature and virtue, completely oblivious to the outside world. Though Philadelphia is not far away, the concerns of the city, of commerce, and of politics are not theirs.

Their ordered world is soon upset by the manifestation of mysterious disembodied voices around the estate. Shortly thereafter, Carwin, a rustic stranger with remarkable intelligence and a shrouded past, enters their isolated society.

In "Wieland," Brown calls into question the enlightened basis of the still new American government. With fresh knowledge of the failure of the French Revolution, subsequent uprisings in Ireland, and an intense fascination with the radical political philosophies of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft, "Wieland" powerfully engages and synthesizes the currents of its time. With all the trappings of psychological gothic trauma, Brown, a resident of a nation conceived in liberty, asks whether the ideological break between a rational new world and a traditional, superstitious old world actually changes anything in human nature.

Charles Brockden Brown deserves to be more widely read. Wieland is a very powerful, forceful novel that left a very deep impression on me. It is about a group of Americans in the 1760s who are haunted by mysterious voices that seem to have some sort of control over their fates. Theodore Wieland's misplaced devotion to these voices ultimately destroys him. Taken as a whole, the novel is a bleak commentary on undeserved loyalty and self-imposed destiny. Contrary to Andrew E. Kent, I thought the "confession" was psychologically appropriate and consistent with the confessor's character. Notice also how he purposely did not confess to everything connected with the voices, even though his complete guilt is demonstrated later by his actions in the novel's climax. The other novella, the Memoirs of Carwin, is unfinished and rough in some parts, but is not without vitality. It is about ventriloquism and secret societies. I recommend that you read Wieland, and I have been encouraged by Brown's novel to buy "Three Gothic Novels," published by the Library of America, so I can read Edgar Huntly and Arthur Mervyn as well.

Often ranked as "the first significant American novelist"-this is how Norman Grabo characterizes him in the Introduction to this volume-Charles Brockden Brown was an ambitious and inventive teller of tales, although an awkward literary craftsman. Brown was only in his twenties when he published this novel in 1799, but it was already his fourth book. Edgar Huntly, which takes place in rural Pennsylvania in 1787 recounts the strange adventures of a young man who sets out to discover the person responsible for killing his best friend, Waldegrave, who has recently died under mysterious circumstances. His investigations put him on the track of Clithero, an Irish servant employed in his uncle's household, but one thing leads to another and Edgar finds himself having to fight Indians and face the perils of the wilderness in order to make his way back home. Most of the story is told by Edgar himself in a long letter-some twenty-seven chapters long-that he is in the process of writing to his intended, Waldegrave's sister, Mary.
Edgar Huntly belongs to the genre of romance, the much older but somewhat less respectable sibling of the novel of social realism that had come into vogue in the eighteenth century. The romance frequently has an exotic setting, and features incidents that stretch the limits of artistic plausibility, where it does not take a plunge into fantasy, as it does in Matthew Gregory Lewis's The Monk or Charles Robert Maturin's Melmoth the Wanderer. Nevertheless, the genre enjoyed great popularity here down to the time of the Civil War, and Brown shows himself well acquainted with its conventions. He not only throws in a whole series of hair-raising encounters that pit the inexperienced Edgar with natural hazards, predatory wild animals, and marauding Delawares, but supplies a convoluted plot line that he further complicates with stories-within-the main story told by subordinate characters. Even for a romance, Edgar Huntly has an unusually tangled narrative web. It's hardly surprising the neophyte author himself sometimes has difficulty keeping track of the strands.
The reader making the acquaintance of Brown for the first time will not get any help from the note on the back cover supplied by Penguin, according to which "Edgar Huntly is the story of a young man who sleepwalks each night, a threat to himself and others, unable to control his baser passions....One of America's first Gothic novels...." I wonder whether the person responsible for these inane comments ever bothered to open the book. In the first place, Edgar Huntly is no Gothic novel. As E.F. Bleiler pointed out, it takes a castle to make a Gothic novel. But Brown explicitly distances himself from the suspicion of Gothicism in the remarkable address "To the Public" prefaced to the book, in which he prides himself on having found his materials in his native country and rejoices in not having fallen back on "Gothic castles and chimeras" in composing his work. But the statement about Edgar is not just inaccurate-it is blatantly incorrect. Edgar has at the most two sleepwalking episodes, one of which serves to initiate the most remarkable series of events in the novel, when he awakes to find himself mysteriously transported to a cave in the middle of the night. And nothing Edgar relates suggests he has a history of somnambulism in his past-nor that he is "unable to control his baser passions." In fact, the first sleepwalker to show up is the far more uncontrolled Clithero, who almost seems to have infected Edgar with his affliction.
Brown was clearly a pioneer of psychological analysis in the history of the novel. Like Edgar Allan Poe later, he probed the souls of his characters by plunging them into violent, imminently lethal situations. As a student of extreme states of the human psyche, he was not only a predecessor of Poe, but of Hawthorne and Melville as well. Yet Brown lacked the ability to apply his talent to the creation of highly individualized characters, one of the strengths of great nineteenth century novelists such as Charles Dickens, Gustave Flaubert, and Fyodor Dostoevsky. All of the characters in Edgar Huntly, the protagonist included, remain little more than phantoms inhabiting a largely crepuscular world throughout the course of the action. However, like other trailblazing figures in the early history of American fiction-James Fenimore Cooper is a perfect example-Brown had an estimable ability to create atmosphere. It is not intended as a sarcasm to say that the reader may feel he or she is turning into a sleepwalker while reading Edgar Huntly.

This book is truly one of the most interesting and purely entertaining books I've ever read. The creepy imagery of the sleepwalking man digging in the street and then the caves and indians will stick with me forever. What an amazingly creative man. An x-files-esque dreamer living in the 1790s.

First published in 1799, Charles Brockden Brown's novel, "Edgar Huntly" is an insane masterpiece. I love Brown. I read this novel for the first time a few years ago, and thought it was about time to refresh my memory. Set outside of Philadelphia in the final years of the 1780's, "Edgar Huntly," like other of Brown's works, test the new American republic's capacity to govern while balancing the needs and desires of its culturally disparate inhabitants.

The novel is purportedly a correspondence from the protagonist, Edgar Huntly, to his friend/love interest, Mary Waldegrave, in the aftermath of her brother's death. Edgar is an educated, refined, enlightened young man, disconsolate upon the death of his friend. An avid walker, Edgar frequently leaves the environs of his hometown, Solebury, returning to the scene of his friend's death, a large elm tree. Near this tree late one evening, he spots a man, conspicuously lurking, burying something beneath the tree. Suspecting this man, Clithero, of Waldegrave's murder, Edgar begins a career of surveillance and tracking, following Clithero to his residence and through the uncharted wildernesses that border his hometown. What follows is Edgar's progress in discovering the truths behind the death of Waldegrave, the history of Clithero, and the foundations of his own self-control and rationality.

Brown deals with a number of issues throughout the novel current to late 18th century America, including the dispossession of Native Americans from their land, Irish immigration, and the instability of a newly formed nation. Philosophically, Brown examines popular 18th century debates over the limits of sympathy, and the ability of sense, experiment, and observation to conclusively explain human nature. In his preface to the novel, Brown says that his novel will not exploit the then-common motifs of gothic fiction. Perhaps, but Brown, taking the example of William Godwin, moves the castles, dungeons, and murders of traditional gothic into the psyches of his characters. Dementia, paranoia, and in this novel, at least, the uncontrollability of sleep-walking, constitute the largely internal threats to personal and national safety.

So join Edgar, Clithero, Sarsefield, the Lorimers, Inglefield, Queen Mab, and an army of hostile natives, on an intricate, often horrifying romp through late 18th century America. Brown's doubts and fears about living in the new nation will entrance and mortify you, and possibly make you consider putting yourself in restraints before you go to bed at night.

Charles Brockden Brown's importance in the field of American literature is indisputably very high; thus, how unfortunate it is that his works are so unknown to us today. Were it not for H.P. Lovecraft's mention of him in his essay "Supernatural Horror in Literature," I myself would remain ignorant of his very existence. Brown is arguably the father of the American novel, a brave pioneer in the era of the early Republic. This man set upon himself the noble purpose of writing fiction for a living, going against the wishes of his family and the dictates of contemporary society. Had there been no Charles Brockden Brown, there may never have been a Poe--at least, not Poe as we know him today.

The story is an Americanized Gothic romance. The spirit of Gothic literature pervades the tale, but the setting has been transferred from old castles and courtly settings to a recognizably American rural landscape which is preeminently beautiful rather than spooky. The horrors described so effectively by Brown are borne in the minds of the characters. The female protagonist Clara narrates the tortured history of her family. Her father dies mysteriously, perhaps by spontaneous combustion, ostensibly due to his failure to follow God's will in his life. She enjoys a happy adult life with her brother and his wife until a stranger named Carwin appears and quickly becomes a part of their inner circle. Carwin eventually becomes Clara's tormentor. She, her brother, and their mutual friend Pleyel all hear mysterious, unexplained voices warning them of danger and imparting fateful news on several occasions. Her brother, deeply religious like his father, is greatly affected by these phenomena--how much so we learn later in the novel. Carwin fatefully destroys Clara's life when his evil designs paint her as a harlot in Pleyel's eye. Her unrequited love for Pleyel is now met with his condemnation of her--the agony of the charges against her is particularly poignant in the early American era in which the story takes place. On the fateful night, she discovers Carwin hiding in her home, and he admits to having had murderous designs on her. Her sorrows are greatly magnified the following day by the murder of her brother's wife and five children by none other than her own beloved brother. She blames Carwin for having influenced her brother to commit murder, but we later learn that dementia itself is almost surely to blame for her brother's wrongs. Before the tale ends, she faces a confrontation with both Carwin and her murderous brother, an experience which she is fortunate to survive.

The tale itself is wonderful. The suspense Brown draws out and continually heightens is first-rate. Clara's encounters with voices and human spirits hidden in the darkness of her bedroom are spine-tingling. The language of the novel does make it a work that requires some concentration on the part of the reader and may serve to frustrate some, but I think it greatly magnifies the horrific aspects of the tale. The dialogues of the actors are admittedly overdramatic and drawn out. No one speaks in this book; rather, everyone makes speeches. The protagonist often resorts to long laments of her great woe and asks how she can possibly go on with the story. Despite such dramatics on her part, though, Clara is clearly a brave, independent woman (reflecting Brown's strong and admirable commitment to the rights of women). Overall, the tale delivers a buffet of the passive voice style of writing, which I for one refuse not to love; even the most unimportant sentences are graced with a flowery, beautiful aspect.

In terms of the Gothic element to the story, one cannot say that the supernatural aspects are wholly disproved in the end--to some extent they are, but not to such an extent that Wieland's murderous actions can be explained by them. Clearly, Wieland did hear voices other than those made by Carwin the biloquist. The air of mystery that remains about Wieland's dementia and the causes of it makes the ending more successful than I feared it would be once I learned of the power of ventriloquism exercised by Carwin to dictate many of the related events. My only complaint is with the final chapter, which is basically an epilogue in the protagonist's journal. Inexplicably, it introduces a new character to explain something about a minor character whom I frankly could not even remember.

This book has a very original plot line. The influence of the bazzar, mystical death of the father of this family set off much questioning and fear when similar occurances happen decades later. You will be desperatly trying to piece together what is going on as this family is ripped apart. The true cause of these events is far to bazzar to be guessed. This essencial Gothic classic can be a bit slow to read at parts, but the conclusion is well worth hanging on for.

Charles Brockden Brown has been almost completely forgotten today. Unlike the more famous James Fenimore Cooper, who is often accorded the title of the first American novelist that Brown should bear, Brown's reputation is largely borne up by those few literary critics who love the earliest roots of American fiction. "Wieland" is Brown's best novel, and still quite readable today as a Gothic novel (although the secret of the villain seems rather mundane today, as the 'power' he exhibits has been played largely for laughs since the days of vaudeville and radio). Brown was born in Philadelphia in 1771, trained in the law, was one of the first to try and make a living as a writer in the early years of the American republic, and died young in 1810. If you like Gothic novels, or you have a passion for early American literature, you will enjoy "Wieland." Myself, I prefer him to Cooper, who has been forever rendered laughable in my mind by Mark Twain's hilarious essays on Cooper's literary sins.

Although this is not Brown's greatest work (Edgar Huntly and Weiland are superior) it is still a compelling work. Brown has taken the Gothic genre and manipulated it's stock images and characters to create unqiue worlds. The novel starts off slowly, but builds as Constantia unwittingly comes under the influence of Ormond. We are never certain whether we are steeped in a stereotypical Gothic world or perhaps uncomfortable close to reality.
Typical of Brown, the ending is deceptively complete. As an author attempting to understand that anxieties and fears of the New Republic, Brown addresses an American readership with themes that are still compelling today. The limitations of reason, the limitations of morality, and the place of faith in our lives.
Brown's four Gothic novels should be read together, to get a complete sense of his concerns for the nation, but the Library of America thoughtlessly left this novel out with their printing of Brown's works. One can only hope that with the continuing interest in Brown's fiction this novel will become available to the reading public.

Having to rate a book like this is no easy task. I give it four stars as a sort of average. The edition itself, with a solid introduction by Emory Eliot, is very good. The novel, like all of Brown's works, is a somewhat unsatisfying effort.

That said, let me add quickly that this novel is a must-read, without a doubt. This truly Gothic tale will keep you in suspence from start to finish--and guess what, Brown even claims a historical precedent for the narrator's brother slaughtering his wife and children. This is Real TV!

It is not a great novel (although superior to, for instance, "Edgar Huntly" and "Stephen Calvert") but it is a fascinating one. Brown was quick to jump on the bandwagon of female fiction that proved to be the bestseller in 19th century America, and this semi-epistolary tale by a female narrator is fascinating if only for the problems its form poses. For instance, its epistolary character, meant to create a sense of urgency and directness, never convinces due to its pretentious literate (read, latinate) diction and syntax. Moreover, Brown's choice of a female narrator--a man writing like a woman writing like a man--, while marketable in 1798, shows that he always bites off much more than he can chew. A much better (and earlier, 1797!) example of a female epistolary novel is Hannah W. Foster's "The Coquette," available in a wonderful edition also by the Oxford UP.

Unlike what some would have you believe, Brown is not the earliest American novelist. It is interesting to note that some of his fans claim Brown instead of Cooper, completely forgetting the books put out by female authors and read mainly by women. I might add that Brown had a male predecessor also, a namesake, William Hill Brown ("The Power of Sympathy," 1789): one shouldn't try to simplify the history of early American literature. However, to come to grips with American literature, and especially its love for the Gothic (mystery, murder, incest), "Wieland" is a great start, and this is a very good edition.

This is the worst book I have ever read. Its high price is ridiculous. I can hardly imagine how this kind of trash book can be published. It is a big humiliation to the reader's intelligence. It is a shame to our human culture for how many trees and paper are wasted for printing this useless, awful and sick book.

I was required to read this novel for an American Ficiton class in college. Most students would rate required reading very low just because it is required reading. Wieland has a low rating because it deserves it, not only because it was required. As an English major I love to read but Wieland tests any readers ability and patience. Brown's writing style is comparable to James Fenimore Cooper's Deerslayer - extremely descriptive and at times, without a difinitive end. The many themes that are found in the novel are outdated to today's readers and will have little if any effect on the interest of the novel. The grotesque theme of familial murder mimicks the writing of Edgar Allan Poe. If you are a Poe fan, Wieland may interest you. For those that are not Poe or Cooper fans, I would suggest looking for reading elsewhere. Wieland is time consuming and not worth the trouble.