Seven Men [Excerpts]

In Short

This volume presents a series of character studies centered on figures of the 1890s literary scene—men obsessed with fame, aestheticism, and the performance of their own identities. Through a blend of dry observation and surreal, often supernatural intrusion, the stories expose the disconnect between how these individuals see themselves and how the world actually views them. The writing endures because it balances a genuine affection for the eccentricities of its subjects with a merciless, surgical precision regarding their insecurities and their ultimate, inevitable obscurity.

The Story

The narrative begins with a memoir of Enoch Soames, a minor poet of the nineties who is convinced of his own genius despite total indifference from the public. Soames, a man of "Catholic Diabolism" and profound mediocrity, is so desperate for posthumous recognition that he strikes a bargain with the Devil. He wishes to be transported one hundred years into the future to visit the British Museum reading room, where he hopes to find his name inscribed in literary histories. The Devil grants this, and the narrator later witnesses Soames’s return from the future, crushed and ruined. He has discovered that, in the next century, he is entirely forgotten, known only as a fictional character in a story written by the very narrator who is currently observing him. Soames vanishes, leaving behind only the cold reality of his failure.

The focus then shifts to the petty, public rivalry between two writers, Hilary Maltby and Stephen Braxton. Both are social climbers who crave the prestige of being invited to high-society gatherings at Keeb Hall. Maltby, a "dapper" and fragile man, and Braxton, a brooding, arrogant figure, are engaged in a constant, silent war for the approval of the elite. Their competition takes a surreal turn when Maltby encounters the ghost—or perhaps the psychological projection—of Braxton following him through the halls of the estate. Maltby is haunted by his rival’s presence until he is eventually physically engulfed by him during a church service, an incident that leads to his permanent psychological collapse and withdrawal from the social life he so craved.

Finally, the collection turns to the life of "Savonarola" Brown, a schoolboy acquaintance of the narrator who grows up with a singular, unfulfilled dream of writing a perfect poetic tragedy. Brown spends years in private, obsessive labor, crafting a play that he believes will define his career. He is killed suddenly by a motor-omnibus before finishing it, leaving the narrator to act as his literary executor. The finished portion of the play is a chaotic, melodramatic piece of writing that inadvertently reveals Brown’s deep-seated confusion and lack of true creative spark. The narrator concludes by acknowledging the futility of Brown's life’s work, leaving the play unfinished and mocking the audience’s expectations of a tidy, meaningful conclusion to an artist’s existence.

How It Unfolds

The encounter with the void The narrator introduces Enoch Soames, a man who insists on his importance despite the lack of any evidence for it. He observes Soames as the poet attempts to force his way into history through a literal, supernatural gamble with the Devil.

The future reveals the truth Soames returns from his glimpse of the future, having learned that he exists only as a literary anecdote. He is consumed by the realization that he is merely a footnote to the life of the person who documents him.

The rivalry of the climbers The narrative pivots to the lives of Maltby and Braxton, who embody the desperate, shallow competition of the literary set. Their status-seeking is punctured by a series of disturbing, hallucinatory encounters that blur the line between ego and madness.

The playwright’s final act The book concludes with the story of Brown, whose long-nurtured dream of artistic legacy is ended by a random, mundane accident. The narrator examines the remains of Brown's life’s work and finds it to be an incoherent, unintentional comedy.

The People

Enoch Soames is the quintessential "failure," a man whose weak doggedness defines his existence. He wants the immortality of the canon, but his lack of talent stands in the way, leaving him as a tragic, transparent figure who fades into non-existence.

Hilary Maltby and Stephen Braxton are two sides of the same coin: men who define their worth through the eyes of others. Maltby is the socialite who hides his insecurity behind a monocle, while Braxton is the brooding poseur. Both are destroyed not by external forces, but by their own inability to exist without the validation of their peers.

"Savonarola" Brown is a man consumed by the idea of literature rather than the practice of it. His ambition is his undoing; he spends his life in the "unhasting devotion" to a play that serves only to highlight the tragedy of his imaginative limitations.

In Its Own Voice

"He never sought to propitiate his fellow-writers, never bated a jot of his arrogance about his own work or of his contempt for theirs."

The narrator describes the stubborn, alienating behavior of Enoch Soames, who refused to accept his own lack of talent.

"I am a gentleman, and, he said with intense emphasis, I thought I was in the company of GENTLEMEN."

The Devil expresses his disdain after the narrator reacts to his introduction with uncontrollable laughter, highlighting the absurdity of the scene.

"A personage the like of whom is wholly unfamiliar to my gaze."

A character in Savonarola Brown’s play unwittingly describes the profound alienation that defines the book’s subjects.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the hollow nature of artistic and social ambition. The book explores the tension between the artist’s need to be seen and the indifferent reality of the world. It questions whether identity can exist in a vacuum, suggesting that without true talent or self-awareness, an individual is merely a ghost of their own desire. By mocking the vanity of his subjects, the author asks if a life built entirely on the performance of "being an author" or "being a success" can ever be considered real, or if such lives are destined to disappear as soon as the audience stops looking.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, understated irony of early twentieth-century prose will find this work sharp and refreshing. It is a book for anyone interested in the anatomy of failure and the absurdity of the creative ego. The writing is warm and precise, though it does reflect the specific social hierarchies and artistic preoccupations of the late Victorian and Edwardian eras.

The experience of reading these stories is somewhat akin to watching a series of exquisite, slightly cruel magic tricks. You are pulled into the world of the nineties—a time of yellow books and Soho cafes—and kept there by the narrator’s polite but devastatingly honest observations. There is a melancholy that lingers here; the book feels like a portrait gallery of ghosts who were once convinced they were the center of the universe. While modern readers might find the period references dense or the social etiquette alien, the underlying observation—that many of us are merely playing parts in our own forgotten tragedies—remains timeless and haunting. It is a slim, elegant volume that does not overstay its welcome, leaving behind a clear-eyed understanding of the vanity that often drives the pursuit of fame.