An Interview with Edward St. John Gorey at the Gotham Book Mart

Edward Gorey's miniature novels are unique masterpieces of reductionist art—whimsical, sometimes macabre parodies of the more morbid of Victoriana, with intricate drawings executed in a fin-de-siècle idiom. The cachet awarded them by a devoted readership is signified by payments of $1,000 or more for some of the out-of-print titles, especially those works, originally rejected by commercial publishers as too bizarre, which were issued under his own imprint, Fantod Press. Gorey's first major critical recognition came from Edmund Wilson, who characterized the imaginative realm of the books as "equally amusing and sombre, nostalgic at the same time as claustrophobic, at the same time poetic and poisoned."¹

Since 1953 Gorey has written and illustrated 50-odd small-format volumes and done illustrations for 100 others. Among works brought out specifically for children have been The Bug Book, The Wuggly Ump, The Lavendar Leotard, The Abandoned Sock, and The Utter Zoo. Perhaps most notable of the books produced in partnership with children's writers have been Sam and Emma with Donald Nelson, Beatrice Schenk de Regniers' version of Red Riding Hood, and Donald and the . . . with Peter Neumeyer. He has also illustrated two of Edward Lear's story-poems, The Jumblies and The Dong with a Luminous Nose. Amphigorey and Amphigorey Too are anthologies of Goreyana, each incorporating 15 volumes. The former sold over 100,000 copies in hardcover and paperback, and has, along with his sets designed for the Broadway hit, Dracula, made Gorey a celebrity. He has also had a succès fou in Europe, where various titles have been translated into German, Italian, Dutch, and Swedish.

Born in 1925 in Chicago, where his father was a journalist for the Hearst newspapers, Gorey attended the Francis W. Parkman School and took some courses at the Chicago Art Institute. After two years' service in the United States Army, during which he was stationed for a time in Utah, Gorey went to Harvard, roomed with the poet Frank O'Hara for 2½ years, majored in French literature, and graduated in 1950. In 1953 he moved to New York City. While working in the art department at Doubleday, and creating exquisite covers for Anchor Books, Gorey published his first book, The Unstrung Harp; or Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel, a droll chronicle of a novel's begetting. The next year there followed a collection of illustrated limericks, some of them in French, entitled The Listing Attic.

Mr. Gorey lives and works in a small apartment in the Murray Hill section of New York City. His five cats travel with him each year to and from his summer residence in Barnstable on Cape Cod. Gorey is always back in time for the opening of the New York City Ballet season, and most nights for 20 years he has been in the audience for their performances. He can also be spotted abroad in Manhattan, and, as well, in many of his books: a tall man of noble Viking countenance, bearded, a gold stud in one earlobe, and on brumal days wearing a floor-length fur coat.

JF: Do you think there's any similarity among passionate admirers of your work?

EG: The question of audience. I have no idea. I see no common denominator. The readers range from small children to tottery elderly folk like myself. In some cases it doesn't even mean much sophistication. Lately I've been receiving letters from people who have known my work for a long time. "Oh Mr. Gorey, do keep yourself recherché. We don't want to see you all over the place." And I think, "That's all very well for you to talk." They think they discovered me way back and resist the idea of the world's moving in.

JF: But that's a natural response. Your work gives the impression of having been written for a coterie of friends.

EG: I wouldn't even say that. Basically I've written what I've written because it's the only mode in which...