The Desire and Pursuit of the Whole

I find the Desire and the Pursuit of the Whole difficult to evaluate in the typical terms used to describe fiction. The book, and presumably Rolfe's other works, seem to exist on their own plane and cannot fit into the comfortable categories invented for the era's literature. One can ascribe terms to him, naturally, but none of these ring true on close examination, for Rolfe is too filled with contradictions to ever be fully pinned down. Rolfe is not conventionally 'decadent', despite having all of the hallmarks: he was a pederast, had a fondness for the medieval and the obscurities of history, and a morbid and self-destructive personality (all characteristics which are manifested in this autobiographical work). But at the same time, he was deeply Catholic in the purest sense, not 'aesthetic Catholicism', as practiced by Huysmans and the like, but rather the real thing, and he held a deep belief in the purity and importance of the Mother Church. Furthermore, he was madly proud and bore a deeply ingrained sense of duty and morality, tending to lash out against anything which offended his deeply-ingrained sensibilities (even if this offense was an offer of much-needed assistance). He was not a refined, pampered aesthete, for he had a strange understanding of and admiration for a naturalistic way of life. Despite Rolfe's ornate and antiquated writing style, he is a far easier and immediately enjoyable read than, say, Henry James, and his idiosyncratic style is easily adapted to. Although the story is apparently told in the third-person from a man who had the story related to him by the two chief characters in the book, Nicholas Crabbe, the main character and clearly a manifestation of Rolfe, is also functionally the narrator. Much of the book consists of a detailed cataloguing of the various wrongs committed against Nicholas by his literary agents and others in charge of his affairs back in England. These sections, while some may find tedious, are strangely comic, as Rolfe, as Auden put it, was "one of the great masters of vituperation." It is, however, when Rolfe steps away from detailing the innumerable misfortunes of his life, that the book truly succeeds. The silent and tender love which develops between Nicholas and Zildo seems amazingly genuine, and the character of Zildo, for all of the elements of fantasy inherent in him, is compellingly real and touching. The novel, not in spite of, but because of, its fragmented and curious qualities, succeeds. With the Desire and the Pursuit of the Whole, we are left with a most revealing portrait of a misunderstood man.

This is certainly not the novel for those seeking the formulaic rubbish that passes for moden fiction.The beauty of this work is in the writing with the story, fascinating though it is, being secondary. Frederick Rolfe aka Baron Corvo was a strange individual who lived an altogether tragic life - largely because of his own character. Rolfe is almost legendary for his bitterness, cynicism and a shocking willingness to bite the hands that fed ( and generally helped) him. He failed in his ambition to be a priest and often signed his name 'Fr. Rolfe" in an effort to be mistaken for a member of the Clergy.There is an unmistakable fug of the lithurgical in much of his writing as a result. His personality permeates every sentence of his writing and thus affords something of an insight into the author. Read this book if you are willing to allow yourself to enter his strange world view...otherwise it may well seem like a ponderous exercise. This is by far his best work ( in my humble view) but it is worth tracking down a copy of his other book "Hadrian" if you find youself aching for more of his unique writing.