Masters of Atlantis, by Charles Portis

Charles Portis is best known for his gripping 1968 novel, True Grit, which has now twice been given the cinematic treatment, most notably in the 1969 film starring John Wayne. True Grit as an indicator of Portis’s overall literary style and themes is misleading, as it stands alone as somewhat of an anomaly in the writer’s oeuvre. While True Grit did give certain hints at Portis’s comic style, it is in novels like Norwood (1966) and The Dog of the South (1979) that readers will find the more typical Portis style.

Charles Portis’s Comic Masterpiece

Portis’s fourth novel, Masters of Atlantis (1985), is considered by many to be his comic masterpiece. Published six years after The Dog of the South, it takes some of the themes and elements of that work, and develops them into a fierce, unrelenting, almost insane page turning human comedy. There is little plot of speak of, but every page is packed full of action and minute detail, enough to keep the reader almost dizzy at the pace and relentless invention. If comparisons are to be made, Dostoyevsky’s The Devils comes to mind.

The Devils (1871) concerns a gang of five political revolutionaries who plot various disturbances that they hope will agitate for change and ultimately precipitate the toppling of the state. In a similar way, Masters of Atlantis, while not dealing in outright political intrigue, is full of the political manoeuvres, personality clashes and diabolical plots that are typical of cults and revolutionary movements. Like Dostoyevsky’s novel, Masters of Atlantis delineates (and lampoons) out-of-the-box characters and their bizarre psychology by depicting a fringe group of self-deluded obsessives who mistake their own fantastic imaginations for reality.

The Devils and Masters of Atlantis are also similar in that the ironic and endlessly inventive style of the writing (bordering somewhere between madness and genius) really represents the content and theme of the novel. Masters of Atlantis has no real plot, point of view or mission. In many ways, it’s quite aimless, more a freewheeling riff, a literary joy ride. What it achieves is an detailed description of the magic thinking that all humans are prey to.

The Gnomon Society and their Masters

The story centres around Lamar Jimmerson, a young American soldier who, when stationed in France during the First World War, comes into the possession of a mysterious book, written in Greek. The book is the Codex Papppus, which Jimmerson has translated into English and then committed to memory. From the Codex Pappus’s store of esoteric knowledge, including such stuff as Atlantean riddles, Egyptian puzzles and a heady stew of alchemical metaphors, Jimmerson creates the Gnomon Society. Before long he’s writing books on the Gnomon way, full of strange illustrations replete with cones and charts. The society is largely ignored, but every now and again it does enjoy spikes in its membership. Interestingly, it’s during the 1930s depression that Gnomonism has its greatest success, to later sink into obscurity.

Like any great cult or religion, there is soon a schism between the main players, and the Gnomons break into two camps, the break-away group being led by the eccentric and egomaniacal Sydney Hen. Lamar Jimmerson sets up a more establishment type residence in Indiana, which is called the Temple. As the years pass the Temple eventually descends into a state of disrepair, with Jimmerson’s wife, Fanny, the only one working a real job and paying the bills.

Another charismatic character, Austin Popper, leads the Gnomon society down a more populist route in order to increase membership. He eventually persuades Lamar Jimmerson to quit his Indiana Temple, which is falling down around his ears and being over run with bums and surrounded by extremely loud traffic noise. Austin Popper has secured an offer by a Mr Morehead Moaler to set up camp in East Texas, living in the benefactor’s fleet of trailer homes. There is finally a reunion between Sydney Hen and Jimmerson, and the Masters of the Gnomon society finish their days as a bunch of mad, domestically useless trailer park denizens.

A Great Novel, But the Ending a Slight Disappointment

Masters of Atlantis has a bit of a flat ending, which is the only criticism that can be levelled at what is otherwise an extraordinary comic achievement. After such a mad, rollicking 300 pages of fun, the reader suspects that a grand denouement is waiting in the wings, finally explaining the strange behaviour of the novel's mad gallery of characters. Portis, however, seems happy to let his bunch of cranks end their days contented enough playing board games and generally living useless lives. It’s left up to the reader to figure out what it all means, if anything, besides the fact that it makes for a good laugh.

Masters of Atlantis, by Charles Portis. Published by The Overlook Press. ISBN: 978-0-71564-097-5