Terribly Intimate Portraits

In Short

This book is a deliberate act of literary subversion, presenting a series of "intimate" biographies of entirely fictitious historical figures—such as the tragic Julie de Poopinac and the elusive E. Maxwell Snurge. By adopting the stiff, self-important tone of a nineteenth-century biographer, the author exposes the inherent vanity of those who claim to capture the "souls" of the past. It has lasted not as a factual record, but as a testament to a singular, precocious wit, capturing the breezy, irreverent spirit of a young writer finding his voice.

The Story

The narrative arc is not linear but thematic, structured as a gallery of caricatures that move from the French Revolution to the American political scene and beyond. It opens with an indignant Author’s Note, where the writer defends his work against "captious critics" and asserts the absolute, if entirely fabricated, historical accuracy of his studies. From there, the book descends into the lives of his subjects, beginning with Julie de Poopinac. Julie is a figure of tragicomic proportions who, during the French Revolution, is arrested while blackberrying in a "Dolly Varden hat." Her trial is a mockery, and her death at the guillotine is marked by an absurd concern for her appearance and her desperate, misplaced loyalty to a dead King.

The portraits continue with the whimsical, if doomed, Madcap Moll, whose devotion to George I leads her to a fatal exhaustion on the road. We are then introduced to E. Maxwell Snurge, a man whose political potential is perpetually thwarted by his own vacuity and the narrow, petty interests of his neighbors in Oggsville. The scope shifts to the operatic and the dramatic with Bianca di Pianno-Forti, a woman whose life is defined by a bizarre genealogy of musical names and a penchant for "bloodthirsty" scenery. The pattern holds for Sarah, "Winsome Sal," whose birth is marked by a disastrous color-coded fire signal that leaves the village terrified, and Jabez Puffwater, an American shopkeeper caught between the rivalries of local political factions.

The final segments drift into the lives of Gretchen, an aspiring actress who recites "Faust" to an unimpressed Goethe, and the "brilliant" Spout, whose life is defined by social blunders and the cult of artistic personality. We encounter the tragic Anna, a duchess caught in the whims of a Russian Tsar, and Sophie, who spends her final year in the Tower of London meticulously perfecting her tatting. The book concludes with the fading star La Bibi, whose desperate, absinthe-soaked end is punctuated by a final, defiant witticism. Throughout, the "biographer" remains a constant, intrusive presence, citing imaginary historians and footnotes that lead nowhere, ultimately creating a closed loop of self-referential nonsense that characterizes the entire endeavor.

How It Unfolds

The protest of the historian The volume opens with a spirited, defensive preface that establishes the author’s combative relationship with his critics. By insisting on the historical legitimacy of his nonsense, he sets the tone for the entire performance.

The parade of the absurd Each chapter focuses on a single, invented icon, ranging from aristocrats like Julie de Poopinac to local political figures like Jabez Puffwater. These portraits are structured as serious, breathless accounts of lives defined by trivial events, misunderstandings, and accidental greatness.

The art of the footnote The narrative is interrupted by an elaborate system of imaginary citations and references that serve to ground the absurdity in a false sense of academic rigor. These notes provide the "evidence" for the fantastical claims, pulling the reader deeper into the author's private joke.

The final bow As the portraits conclude, the book shifts toward the tragicomic decline of its final subjects, like La Bibi. The author maintains his detached, slightly melodramatic perspective until the very end, ensuring that the satire remains consistent and unbroken.

The People

Julie de Poopinac stands as the primary archetype of the "misunderstood" heroine, whose physical grace and lack of common sense serve as a foil to the brutal reality of the revolution. She is defined by her stubborn, decorative nature, refusing to lose her dignity even as she approaches the blade. E. Maxwell Snurge provides the book’s critique of the American political ego; he is a man of vast, unspent potential who is ultimately rendered small by the triviality of his environment and his own lack of substance. Bianca di Pianno-Forti represents the aesthetic extreme, a woman whose lineage is composed of musical terminology and whose life is a series of dramatic, blood-soaked gestures. Finally, the author himself emerges as a character—a petulant, enthusiastic compiler who is deeply invested in the perceived "soul" of his subjects, yet entirely unable to distinguish between a meaningful life and a series of theatrical flourishes.

In Its Own Voice

"Romance dead? Never! And in order to disprove their dismal forebodings, I have included in my portrait gallery studies of such national heroes as--Snurge, Spout, Puffwater and Plinge."

The author clarifies his intent in the foreword, setting the stage for the absurd portraits that follow.

"Then Julie stepped forward. 'Vive le Roi!' she cried, forgetting in her excitement that he was already dead, and flinging her Dolly Varden hat in the very teeth of the crowd, she laid her head in the prescribed notch."

This scene captures the essence of the author’s style—a mixture of high-stakes historical drama and slapstick tragedy.

"Stretching out her wasted arm to the nearly empty absinthe bottle by her bed, she made a slightly resentful moue and murmured 'Encore une!'"

The final line of the portrait of La Bibi, showcasing the author's preoccupation with witty, theatrical endings.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is a mockery of the cult of personality and the pretensions of biographical writing. By treating trivial, invented, or ridiculous figures with the reverence usually reserved for great historical leaders, the author exposes the artifice inherent in how we tell "great" stories. It asks whether historical significance is something earned or merely an invention of the writer’s style. The work reflects a profound skepticism toward the "Souls" of the famous, suggesting that beneath the veneer of historical majesty often lies nothing more than a collection of petty desires, social blunders, and, quite frequently, a lack of anything truly substantial to say.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, dry wit of the early twentieth century will find a great deal to appreciate here. It is a slim, brisk, and thoroughly irreverent book that feels like an inside joke shared between the author and the reader. It is best approached as a series of short sketches—perfect for someone who appreciates the art of the well-turned phrase and the delight of a sustained, high-wire act of silliness.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the dense, affected prose style. The humor relies heavily on the juxtaposition of high-flown, Victorian-era language with the mundane or the grotesque, which can be exhausting if read in large doses. Furthermore, the book is steeped in the specific cultural and social references of its time, which may feel opaque to those unfamiliar with the period's conventions. There is no grand moral or deep emotional payoff; the book is an exercise in stylistic bravado. If you value literary playfulness and a sharp, cynical eye toward the pomposity of the establishment, you will find it a delightful, if fleeting, companion. It remains a curious piece of evidence for how, even in his youth, a great observer of human folly understood that the most convincing way to tell the truth is often to wrap it in a perfectly crafted lie.