After more than a year, I have reached the end of Neal Stephenson's The Baroque Cycle. As the eight books, in three volumes, clock in at 2612 pages (excluding epigraphs, invocations, family trees, maps, a dramatis personae, and a "story thus far" in Volume III) and, as I am firmly convinced that this is one of the top ten works of fiction ever, I am going to devote a bit of space to the entire series of novels here. I will, therefore, consign the rest of this to a cut. If you're interested in the shift from the theocratic to the secular world view, eighteenth century European history, the birth of modern science, piracy, alchemy, slavery, royalty, commerce, language, mathematics, numismatics, theatre, technology, madness, confidence games, shipping, mining, banking, penal systems, class systems, sewage systems, picaresque adventure, thwarted romance, political intrigue, sexual exploits, scientific rivalry, religious debate, or dense, clever, well-written, exhaustively researched, comic novels, read on. If not, what the hell are you interested in?

The Baroque Cycle is almost impossible to digest - or even assess - spanning as it does, several decades, continents, and systems of thought through dozens of characters, and interlocking plots of extraordinary and cunning complexity. But I'll do my best. This may contain a few spoilers, but nothing major. If you intend to read the Cycle and wish to be totally unprepared for all of its startling convolutions, you should be reading the books themselves, not my review.  :)

The first volume of the Cycle, Quicksilver, is made up of three books. Book One, "Quicksilver" itself, introduces us to one of the main characters, Daniel Waterhouse - an ancestor of the Waterhouse characters in Stephenson's Cryptonomicon. It uses a framing device set in 1713, when Waterhouse, a lapsed Puritan and son of a notorious revolutionary Roundhead, has been summoned back to England from the Massachusetts Bay Colony (where he has founded a certain Technologickal Institute) by the mysterious Enoch Root (who appears a few hundred years later in Cryptonomicon) at the behest of Caroline, Princess of Wales. These brief seafaring chapters are interspersed with an account of Daniel's earlier life, from his days at Cambridge with the young Isaac Newton, through the Plague Year, the Great Fire, and the death of a couple of kings to his membership in the Royal Society and fraternization with the likes of Robert Hooke, Christopher Wren, and Samuel Pepys.

Book Two, "King of the Vagabonds" takes up an entirely different narrative - that of Jack Shaftoe (whose descendants also appear in Cryptonomicon) and, to an extent, his brother Bob. Jack is of another rank altogether - an orphaned mudlark who becomes a soldier, deserter, and general criminal-of-all-trades. Set primarily during the 1680s, the book traces Jack's exploits, including his hooking up with Eliza, the third major character. The pair travels throughout Europe - Liepzig, Amsterdam, Paris - experiencing a variety of adventures bordering on the absurd, gradually improving their fortunes, until they come to a rather ugly parting of the ways and Jack is last seen as a galley slave, slowly going mad from syphilis.

The third book, "Odalisque" continues to follow the Eliza thread as well as returning to Daniel's narrative as both characters rise in the French and British courts respectively, becoming involved in complex intrigues at Versailles and the Court of St. James. During the course of their various machinations, both become involved with Newton's arch-rival, Gottfried Liebniz, as well as the likes of Christiaan Huygens, William Penn, and various members of the Houses of Stuart, Orange-Nassau, and Bourbon.

The novel is concerned not only with literal quicksilver - or mercury - an essential ingredient for the alchemical pursuits of the Natural Philosophers of the Royal Society (and for the mining industry of northern Europe), but also metaphorical quicksilver - Mercury, the god of information - which feeds the burgeoning mercantilism exploited by the two principle courts as well as the scheming Eliza, notably on the infant Dutch stock exchange.

But it is not at all as dry as this may sound. Andrew Leonard, referring to a scene in which Jack, on a recently stolen Turkish war horse, is chasing an ostrich through a tunnel under Vienna where he almost inadvertently ends up rescuing Eliza from murderous Ottomans, as "a ludicrous, delirious scene, the kind of thing we've come to depend on from Stephenson" - and there are many such scene: Jack's crashing of a party held by Louis XIV, for example, had me falling out of my chair with laughter. There are also exchanges, particularly in the court scenes, which sparkle with epigrams worthy of the best Restoration comedy.

While the "local" threads of the story are somewhat resolved, the volume ends with a seeming cliff-hanger (though it's clearly addressed by the opening framing device), but it's a cliff-hanger which proves, by the third volume, to have been - literally, perhaps - miraculous.

Some readers have complained that Quicksilver lacks much of a plot. The book is dense with historical detail, all of it illuminating and entertaining, and is as much an examination Enlightenment ideas (not to mention the minutiae of fashion, weaponry, theatre, chandlery, etc.) as the story of its principals. But if a behind-the-scenes look at a couple of decades worth of European science, religion, and politics, combined with the partial biographies of three major characters, isn't enough plot, I'm not sure what is.

The same charge could certainly not be leveled at the second volume, The Confusion. It must be admitted that Quicksilver does serve as a bit of a foundation for what ensues. Just as mercury was used by alchemists to give mobility to the spirit (animation to the animus?), so the first volume of the Cycle serves to give the second irresistible movement that propels the characters into unexpected trajectories across social spheres, countries, and continents.

The Confusion is composed of books four and five, "Bonanza" and "Juncto", which are interwoven - or con-fused. First, the metaphor: the "confusion" of the title refers not only to the recoinage in England - in which silver and gold from a variety of sources were melted down to produce a new currency to effect England's financial superiority over the rest of Europe - but also the "con-fusion" of Europe itself, from a variety of scattered principalities and electorates into more modern (and confused) nation-states, with various members of various royal families of various faiths intermarrying, feuding with, disowning, and merging with each other. As one character says, regarding a crucial vote in Parliament, "I am anxious to know whether the next king of England will be German or French."

"Bonanza" follows the continuing exploits of Jack Shaftoe, which are even more grandly absurd than his adventures in Quicksilver - and are a rollicking picaresque yarn which follows him and a band escaped slaves from Spain through the Middle East, the Far East, a voyage across the Pacific, and Central America, back to Europe again with a cache of mysterious contraband sought by the Church, rival pirates, obsessive alchemists, Jewish mystics, natural philosophers, unscrupulous businessmen, and various ruthless heads of states. There's also more swashbuckling than the average work by R.L. Stevenson and Alexandre Dumas combined.

"Juncto", on the other hand, follows the increasingly complex intrigues of Eliza, now the Countess de la Zeur and/or the Duchess of Arcachon-Qwghlm (yes, the Qwghlmians of Cryptonomicon are her distant relations). Stripped of one fortune, she sets about making another - and, in so doing, becomes the pawn of two enemy kings, acting as a double- or perhaps triple- or quadruple-agent - while simultaneously trying to abolish slavery and recover the greatest treasure she has lost: her child. Meanwhile, Newton and Liebniz feud at a distance, Whigs and Tories feud up close and personal, and the monarchs of Europe feud across borders, through espionage, warfare, and royal bedrooms. In addition, Bob Shaftoe fights his own battles (and those of his king), while Daniel Waterhouse seeks passage to the New World, hoping it's less fraught with madness than the Old.

"Bonanza", by the way, refers to the port of Cádiz from whence Jack and his extraordinarily motley crew (a Scottish publican, a Russian giant, a crypto-Jew, a Spanish aristocrat, an Egyptian camel-trader, a Japanese Jesuit, an Armenian merchant, a Nigerian linguist, and a Dutch sea captain) attempt to steal the treasure which turns out to be more than they bargained for. "Juncto" refers to the cabal of Tories conspiring, among much else, to have Isaac Newton made the Master of the Mint.

Just as the old coins of the realm - as well as plate, cutlery, candlesticks, and jewelry - are melted down in the Tower of London, gradually transforming into one newly-minted currency, so the two books of The Confusion gradually merge, so that, by the final pages, they essentially become one narrative - con-fused into new material which will crystallize in the final volume.

The third volume, The System of the World, is made up of three more books. Like a coin poured from a crucible into a mold, the volumes of the cycle have gradually solidified, becoming more compressed. The first volume spanned a generation. The second, about seven years (with another few tacked on to the last hundred pages or so). The last volume takes place over the course of ten months - and the last section of the final book covers a single, eventful day.

Book Six, "Solomon's Gold", returns to the chapters which "framed" the first book - Daniel's return to England - and moves forward from there. Moments after arriving in London, he is nearly killed by an explosion and he cobbles together "a Clubb" of concerned parties in an attempt to solve the mystery of who is trying to blow up Natural Philosophers with Infernal Devices. He also becomes immediately embroiled in Newton's efforts to bring to justice a notorious counterfeiter, Jack the Coiner (who is on a mission from the Sun King in order to protect the love of his life). The book ends with a daring heist - or counter-heist - on the Mint in the Tower of London, which may (or may not) have irredeemably corrupted the British currency.

The next book, "Currency", takes us back to Eliza and the Continent, where the erstwhile Duchess is attempting to protect her friend, and potential heir to the throne of England, from assassins. They return to England incognito, where the political factions are vying more strenuously than ever to have their favorites succeed to the throne of the dying Queen Anne. All of the plots and counter-plots begin to converge - with added complications ranging from the intervention of Peter the Great to old quarrels between Jack and his brother. At the same time, the the early efforts of the Royal Society are coming to fruition: Daniel grows closer to his quest to build a Logic Mill, Eliza invests in what could be the first practical steam engine, and a competition is set to solve the measurement of longitude, not to mention Newton's search for the Holy Grail of alchemy - the key to the Philosopher's Stone and eternal life - which may be just within his grasp.

Book Eight, "The System of the World", takes its title from the final book of Newton's Principia Mathematica - as well as the efforts by the Princess of Wales to get Daniel to heal the rift between Sir Isaac and Baron von Liebniz, which set the whole Cycle in motion. In one of the work's most striking images, the Princess knocks a large globe from its cradle and kicks it across several yards of carpet into a fireplace.


But there are other new systems afoot, in addition to the pursuit of philosophy, science, and invention: the secularization of the monarchy, for example, and the re-mapping of Europe. As Daniel, the work's core character, despite Jack being the "man of action", puts it: "I did not wish to be summoned by your Princess. Summoned, I did not wish to come. But having been summoned, and having come, I mean to give a good account of myself. That's how I was taught by my father, and the men of his age who slew Kings and swept away not merely governments but whole Systems of Thought, like Khans of the mind." And, linked to that, perhaps the most profound change, the new monetary system and the subsequent triumph of mercantilism.

One of the most ambiguously sinister rogues an a fairly comprehensive gallery is the French priest, Edouard de Gex. It is de Gex who has the firmest grasp of the ramifications of one of the new Systems which is being forged:


With the levelling of nobles, clerics, and peasants - and the ascendancy of the middle class - came also the ascendancy of the banker and the broker. The Enlightenment, as some characters realize, will have its cost - despite the ideals of many of the more "heroic" characters. Especially through the rascal Jack, Stephenson seems to be implying the same thing which Diderot demonstrated in Rameau's Nephew. Knowledge, of itself, does not necessarily make men good. It can also serve to make bad men worse.

All of these themes come to a head in the final book of the Cycle. Needless to say, perhaps, the conflicts and crises of the several layers of narrative all converge and collide, resulting in final twists of fate, changes of fortune, triumphs, and failures in about a hundred pages worth of various resolutions. With those resolutions, the old order is dying out - and the Enlightenment being born. And, as one of the central characters admits on the final page, "having some kind of System, even a flawed and doomed one, is better than to live forever in the poisonous storm-tide of quicksilver that gave birth to all this." It remains to be seen whether that System will end with a world in flames.


My only complaint with The Baroque Cycle is that, for me, the most compelling conflict - that between Newton and Liebniz - is resolved (or left unresolved) nearly two hundred pages before all the rest of the resolutions, in "a philosophick showdown at Leicester House". Though as those remaining pages include a coronation, two trials, a duel, a jailbreak, a hanging, a riot, the deaths of two or three principals, a miraculous resurrection, and five satisfying epilogues (among other things), I can't exactly call it anticlimactic. And I expect that the average reader will be more gratified by the final knots which tie the entire Cycle into a coherent whole than they would be by the more realistic conclusion reached by the rival scientists:


What we are seeing in that conversation is not questions being answered, but the process of scientific investigation being born. The moral and philosophical questions raised by Newton and Liebniz, unlike the dozen narrative threads of The Baroque Cycle, have not yet been neatly resolved - and may never be. And that, for me, would have been a satisfying end.

It has to be said that Stephenson's level of research is as exhaustive as ever and the amount of historical detail is staggering. It also has to be said that his literary imagination remains impressive and his sheer craftiness surpasses all his previous work. I loved the extent to which so many of the fictional characters were intimately involved with major historical figures and events - and the clever ways Stephenson devised for pulling them out of the action just at the point when they may have entered the history books themselves - sudden deaths, flights in disguise, the necessity of operating behind the scenes, allowing others to take credit for their deeds. The characters remain eminently credible without destroying the historical accuracy of much of the work's events.

And I thoroughly enjoyed the use of language throughout the Cycle, which, among other things, is almost an etymological study, revealing the origins of many words and phrases in an almost off-hand manner. There is extensive wordplay throughout and exchanges between characters so sharp, one could come away with paper cuts, especially in the more heated dialogue. There's low humor as well, and as much farce as satire - and Stephenson is not even above the odd spoonerism (one character on a pair of thieves having retired as farmers: "They ought by rights to become tillers of the soil because they have made so much trouble in the past as soilers of the till.") Even the title of the cycle itself may hold a bit of a pun. Not only is it a series of novels about the baroque period, but the books themselves are nothing if not baroque in construction and execution. According to Webster, the baroque style is marked by the use of "complex forms, bold ornamentation, and the juxtaposition of contrasting elements often conveying a sense of drama, movement, and tension" and "characterized by grotesqueness, extravagance, complexity, or flamboyance". Or all of the above. The American Heritage Dictionary adds that the style also achieves an "overall balance of the disparate parts". I couldn't describe these novels better myself.  :)

In case I haven't made myself clear, though, I can't recommend these books highly enough. Then again, I have a particular affinity for several of the main themes here and find this period of history infinitely fascinating. Plus I have always been a major fan of Neal Stephenson. Nevertheless, I have to say that, as far as I'm concerned, The Baroque Cycle makes Foucault's Pendulum (one of my favorite works of 20th century literature, by the way) look like a tedious little novella - and something like The DaVinci Code (which I admittedly hated) like a nursery rhyme plagiarized by an imbecile.

I'm off to re-read Cryptonomicon now. Then I'll probably start the whole Cycle over again. Frankly, I can't think of another work of fiction that I would find more satisfying - or more stimulating on almost every level.

Tags: bibliophilia
humour: exhausted