Call me Arthur. Arthur Gordon Pym.
In 1838, Edgar Allan Poe, then chiefly known (if at all) as a poet, published his only novel, an exceedingly strange tale that would be unexpectedly influential.
Poe borrowed something of the premise from a newspaper editor, Jeremiah Reynolds, who, the year before, had gone on the lecture circuit to talk about his own book, a history of the then-brand-new exploration of the coast of Antarctica. But Poe had something broader in mind. He opens his tale on Nantucket, with a young man named Arthur Gordon Pym who, having nothing better to do, wants ...
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