Status
Available
Call number
Collection
Publication
Penguin Classics (1983), Paperback, 256 pages
Description
Classic Literature. Fiction. HTML: In James Hogg 1824 novel Confessions of a Justified Sinner, a young man named Robert Wringhim, or sometimes Wringham, encounters a shape-shifting devil. Robert is told that he is one of a small group of people predestined for salvation, and this doppelganger demon convinces him to commit murder and other crimes. Part Gothic novel, part case study in psychology, this is a probing quest into a world of angels and demons, predestiny and fanaticism..
User reviews
LibraryThing member Ganeshaka
This is the kind of work that causes me to fantasize about teaching literature. It is a rich stew of subjects, meaty with chunks representing Scottish identity, Calvinism and Predestination, the theme of the Doppelganger, Dostoyevsky's theme of the double, and political terrorism. The novel is
The beginning half of the novel, "The Editor's Narrative" sets forth the background subject matter. An elderly Scottish lord arranges for a marriage that turns out to be a disastrous choice. His wife is incompatible in religion, age, and temperament. Nonetheless, the marriage produces two sons, whose Cain and Abel conflict drive the story.
The concluding half of the novel, "Confessions of a Sinner, is an accounting by the "Cain" son of why he felt compelled to act as he did. His internal conflict is the polar engine of his fate. His religious delusions create a devilish double who rends his personality, ultimately seducing and destroying him.
The theme of the Doppelganger is ancient, having its roots in the dichotomy between reason and emotion, and spirit and the flesh. As a literary device, it was developed more fully during the Romantic era to dramatize the conflict between the willful Romantic hero and society. In this story, ironically, it dramatizes the conflict engendered by a protagonist who believes, not in free will per se, but that his will is freed from inhibition by predestination as one of the elect. He reasons that, as someone who will be saved regardless of his acts, he can go wherever his theological reasoning dictates. In essence, he ends up killing Christians for Christ.
This twist gives the novel an entirely "modern" relevance, not merely because we find ourselves entangled in a Mid-East war with medieval religious antagonisms, but also because of the extremes of religious and secular beliefs encompassed by our Western society.
Even the structure of the work is inventive and might have contemporary applications. For example, Brian De Palma's recent film, Redacted, examined an Iraqi war crime from the viewpoint of the US combatants. It loosely used the format of the novel. But might the film have been even more effective, if a tighter crime/confession structure had been followed?
In summation, this finely crafted piece of art from the early nineteenth century is worth a second look, like a dusty antique secretary that has aesthetic and functional value and might be restored as the centerpiece of a modern office.
Show More
neatly mathematical. The opus divided into two sections, and each section generates its electricity by bipolar elements.The beginning half of the novel, "The Editor's Narrative" sets forth the background subject matter. An elderly Scottish lord arranges for a marriage that turns out to be a disastrous choice. His wife is incompatible in religion, age, and temperament. Nonetheless, the marriage produces two sons, whose Cain and Abel conflict drive the story.
The concluding half of the novel, "Confessions of a Sinner, is an accounting by the "Cain" son of why he felt compelled to act as he did. His internal conflict is the polar engine of his fate. His religious delusions create a devilish double who rends his personality, ultimately seducing and destroying him.
The theme of the Doppelganger is ancient, having its roots in the dichotomy between reason and emotion, and spirit and the flesh. As a literary device, it was developed more fully during the Romantic era to dramatize the conflict between the willful Romantic hero and society. In this story, ironically, it dramatizes the conflict engendered by a protagonist who believes, not in free will per se, but that his will is freed from inhibition by predestination as one of the elect. He reasons that, as someone who will be saved regardless of his acts, he can go wherever his theological reasoning dictates. In essence, he ends up killing Christians for Christ.
This twist gives the novel an entirely "modern" relevance, not merely because we find ourselves entangled in a Mid-East war with medieval religious antagonisms, but also because of the extremes of religious and secular beliefs encompassed by our Western society.
Even the structure of the work is inventive and might have contemporary applications. For example, Brian De Palma's recent film, Redacted, examined an Iraqi war crime from the viewpoint of the US combatants. It loosely used the format of the novel. But might the film have been even more effective, if a tighter crime/confession structure had been followed?
In summation, this finely crafted piece of art from the early nineteenth century is worth a second look, like a dusty antique secretary that has aesthetic and functional value and might be restored as the centerpiece of a modern office.
Show Less
LibraryThing member veilofisis
Something that has affected one as profoundly as this novel has affected me is difficult to do justice to in a brief review; but it is harder to do it justice in a longer format, so this will have to serve as a short, scattered, and unworthy paean to a novel of such sinister and cosmic power, that
The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner is a dreamy, poisonous, utterly enthralling portrait of the latent (and perhaps extant, perhaps non-extant) evils of a world seeking the favors of God. But it is also a testament to the power of faith, for good or ill, and its pages do not drip solely with venom, but also with ambivalence: such heady themes leave a great deal open to interpretation, and like all of the best polemics, Justified Sinner leaves a great deal of its 'conclusions' open-ended.
Words, brief and fickle, fail to summarize Hogg's novel. It is a convoluted and absolutely fascinating study of doubles: double-thoughts, double-motives, double-narrators, double-faiths. That at its heart is a black and troubling mysticism more brooding and pernicious than even its titular Sinner is testament to its powerful mastery of the clean and the unclean, here tempered in a very personal alchemy to produce a narrative of unwavering enigma.
Above all, it is a novel of religion: a firm rejection of Calvinistic dogma and the caustic tenets of Predestination, and a peerless embodiment of the private faith at the roots of some of the darkest shadows of the Romantic's muse. Hogg is an eerie prophet, and this complex, eddying tale his opus, revealed through the syrupy fog of confession, violence, madness, and reprobation. The suspicion that we cannot trust multiple, and even third-party, points of view (despite the relative merits of each) is genius; the suggestion that an entity as singular and terrifying as Gil-Martin may both exist and yet also not exist, the mark of an author of exceptional gifts and striking power.
In short: perdition is spilled upon these pages, and yet also the unmistakable ghost of an uncanny and all-knowing grace.
Highly, highly recommended.
Show More
my fingers literally tremble when it comes up for discussion. (I will avoid even hinting at the plot itself, however, as the less you know going into this, the better.)The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner is a dreamy, poisonous, utterly enthralling portrait of the latent (and perhaps extant, perhaps non-extant) evils of a world seeking the favors of God. But it is also a testament to the power of faith, for good or ill, and its pages do not drip solely with venom, but also with ambivalence: such heady themes leave a great deal open to interpretation, and like all of the best polemics, Justified Sinner leaves a great deal of its 'conclusions' open-ended.
Words, brief and fickle, fail to summarize Hogg's novel. It is a convoluted and absolutely fascinating study of doubles: double-thoughts, double-motives, double-narrators, double-faiths. That at its heart is a black and troubling mysticism more brooding and pernicious than even its titular Sinner is testament to its powerful mastery of the clean and the unclean, here tempered in a very personal alchemy to produce a narrative of unwavering enigma.
Above all, it is a novel of religion: a firm rejection of Calvinistic dogma and the caustic tenets of Predestination, and a peerless embodiment of the private faith at the roots of some of the darkest shadows of the Romantic's muse. Hogg is an eerie prophet, and this complex, eddying tale his opus, revealed through the syrupy fog of confession, violence, madness, and reprobation. The suspicion that we cannot trust multiple, and even third-party, points of view (despite the relative merits of each) is genius; the suggestion that an entity as singular and terrifying as Gil-Martin may both exist and yet also not exist, the mark of an author of exceptional gifts and striking power.
In short: perdition is spilled upon these pages, and yet also the unmistakable ghost of an uncanny and all-knowing grace.
Highly, highly recommended.
Show Less
LibraryThing member Widsith
An eerie Caledonian fable about religious dogmatism, which works simultaneously on dozens of levels – atmospheric, intellectual, generic, geographical – and all of them engaging. With its in-jokes, its metafictional structure and even a cheeky authorial self-insertion, it reads very much like
The accoutrements of the genre are all there – doppelgängers, sublime nature, black-clad figures, looming architecture, eldritch forces that man should not wot of – but fused, here, with the Scottish landscape in a way that locates the horrors of the story firmly ‘at home’. (This is unlike Gothic fiction from south of the border, which tends to go abroad to find its otherworldliness – Switzerland for Frankenstein, Italy for The Castle of Otranto, France for Udolpho, Romania for Dracula.) The supernatural elements are also built up over a scaffolding of fascinating religious debate that comes out of the split between Calvinists and religious liberals in Scotland in the nineteenth century.
The root of the story is in the dispiriting notion of predestination, which, as Hogg's protagonist points out, makes ‘the economy of the Christian world…an absolute contradiction’.
Seeing that God had from all eternity decided the fate of every individual that was to be born of woman, how vain it was in man to endeavour to save those whom their Maker had, by an unchangeable decree, doomed to destruction.
Not only does this theory, taken to its logical conclusion, make preaching and religious guidance a complete waste of time, it also means that your own actions have no bearing whatever on your eventual fate amid the celestial choirs or the sulphurous pits. In which case, if you happen to know that you're heading upwards – that you're theologically ‘justified’ – then what's to stop you doing anything you like? Rape…murder…fratricide…there are no limits.
The concept is a brilliant one and Hogg plays it for everything it's worth. His interest in ideas of confused identity, psychological breakdown and multiple ‘truths’ makes it easy to understand why the book was so enthusiastically rediscovered towards the end of the twentieth century after decades of neglect; throw in the religious extremism and it's never been more relevant. It's also genuinely creepy. The character of Gil-Martin is one of the best literary treatments of the Devil I've encountered, and some of the set-pieces have a real uncanniness to them which is hard to pull off. A fascinating book, and an excellent choice for anyone in search of a suitably nightmarish Hallowe'en read.
Show More
something faked-up by Pynchon or Coover or some other contemporary experimentalist: a postmodern rewrite of Gothic Romance. But this is very much the original article.The accoutrements of the genre are all there – doppelgängers, sublime nature, black-clad figures, looming architecture, eldritch forces that man should not wot of – but fused, here, with the Scottish landscape in a way that locates the horrors of the story firmly ‘at home’. (This is unlike Gothic fiction from south of the border, which tends to go abroad to find its otherworldliness – Switzerland for Frankenstein, Italy for The Castle of Otranto, France for Udolpho, Romania for Dracula.) The supernatural elements are also built up over a scaffolding of fascinating religious debate that comes out of the split between Calvinists and religious liberals in Scotland in the nineteenth century.
The root of the story is in the dispiriting notion of predestination, which, as Hogg's protagonist points out, makes ‘the economy of the Christian world…an absolute contradiction’.
Seeing that God had from all eternity decided the fate of every individual that was to be born of woman, how vain it was in man to endeavour to save those whom their Maker had, by an unchangeable decree, doomed to destruction.
Not only does this theory, taken to its logical conclusion, make preaching and religious guidance a complete waste of time, it also means that your own actions have no bearing whatever on your eventual fate amid the celestial choirs or the sulphurous pits. In which case, if you happen to know that you're heading upwards – that you're theologically ‘justified’ – then what's to stop you doing anything you like? Rape…murder…fratricide…there are no limits.
The concept is a brilliant one and Hogg plays it for everything it's worth. His interest in ideas of confused identity, psychological breakdown and multiple ‘truths’ makes it easy to understand why the book was so enthusiastically rediscovered towards the end of the twentieth century after decades of neglect; throw in the religious extremism and it's never been more relevant. It's also genuinely creepy. The character of Gil-Martin is one of the best literary treatments of the Devil I've encountered, and some of the set-pieces have a real uncanniness to them which is hard to pull off. A fascinating book, and an excellent choice for anyone in search of a suitably nightmarish Hallowe'en read.
Show Less
LibraryThing member Jan.Coco.Day
Hogg's darkly comic moralistic tale is unjustifiably obscure. The elegantly crafted 19th century tale of a rich young man who justifies his violent tendencies through both the doctrine of predestination and the influence of a nameless stranger. He is an amoral sinner, building his repertoire up to
Show More
murder as soon as he is declared saved by his reverend adoptive father. Hogg's sophisticated prose offers a classic dark tale of temptation by an external devil as well as a modern psychological (internal sublimation) reading. The story is wholly microscopic of 19th century Scotland, but wholly timeless and universal. Show Less
LibraryThing member GerrysBookshelf
This is a gothic novel and a satire on religious fanaticism. The doctrine of predestination is used by the main character as an excuse for committing a number of heinous crimes under the influence of a "mysterious stranger". It turned out to be a pretty good read due to the element of psychological
Show More
suspense. Show Less
LibraryThing member P_S_Patrick
Quite what the meaning of this story is is a difficult thing to fathom, as consistent accounts of important events throughout are elusive. The book tells parts of the story from two main viewpoints, beginning with that of the good brother, going onto the bad brother, and with a small bits from
To begin with it seems as if the main dichotomy exists between the good brother and the bad brother - the lawful and recognised son of the Laird, George, and the spurned brother Robert (or half brother perhaps, it is hinted), with the former being athletic, of good temper, and sociable, and the latter being studious, unsocial, religious, fanatical, and of bad nature, and brought up by the Rvnd. Wringham who has adopted him as his son.
The eponymous Justified Sinner, Robert, is a follower of the Calvinist heresy, believing that people are either chosen for eternal salvation or condemnation before birth, by God, and that their actions throughout their life cannot change this decision. He is told by his father, a cleric, that he has been saved, which gives him carte blanche for committing as much sin as he likes, feeling he is already justified and that his actions can do him no harm. Robert is not a completely bad character though, and sometimes experiences doubt about the correctness of his actions before carrying out crimes, and guilt afterwards, but is dragged down by a mysterious stranger who earns his confidence and befriends him; these two, not the two brothers, are the ones who take prominence in the story. Subtle and not so subtle hints that this stranger is the devil himself are presented, but Robert believes for much of it that he is a messenger of God, a guardian, and that things such as the murdering of sinners that he convinces him to do are righteous, though he does eventually come to loathe him.
Alternatively, it could be seen that the stranger and himself are aspects of the same schizophrenic character, with one being good and the other evil, with their existence as separate people being metaphoric, but this is left for us to decide.
Whatever the reader is meant to understand, (and I doubt the author accidentally left things this ambiguous), this is a powerful tale of warning against conceit of ones own ideas, and the danger of not critically assessing the truth of what other people tell you; this moral is illustrated both by the way the main character accepts what bad influences tell him, and how this leads him into trouble, and also by the way the author gives opposing or inconsistent details of events, in order to challenge our credulity and teach us to make our own conclusions instead.
Show More
whoever is presenting us the story.To begin with it seems as if the main dichotomy exists between the good brother and the bad brother - the lawful and recognised son of the Laird, George, and the spurned brother Robert (or half brother perhaps, it is hinted), with the former being athletic, of good temper, and sociable, and the latter being studious, unsocial, religious, fanatical, and of bad nature, and brought up by the Rvnd. Wringham who has adopted him as his son.
The eponymous Justified Sinner, Robert, is a follower of the Calvinist heresy, believing that people are either chosen for eternal salvation or condemnation before birth, by God, and that their actions throughout their life cannot change this decision. He is told by his father, a cleric, that he has been saved, which gives him carte blanche for committing as much sin as he likes, feeling he is already justified and that his actions can do him no harm. Robert is not a completely bad character though, and sometimes experiences doubt about the correctness of his actions before carrying out crimes, and guilt afterwards, but is dragged down by a mysterious stranger who earns his confidence and befriends him; these two, not the two brothers, are the ones who take prominence in the story. Subtle and not so subtle hints that this stranger is the devil himself are presented, but Robert believes for much of it that he is a messenger of God, a guardian, and that things such as the murdering of sinners that he convinces him to do are righteous, though he does eventually come to loathe him.
Alternatively, it could be seen that the stranger and himself are aspects of the same schizophrenic character, with one being good and the other evil, with their existence as separate people being metaphoric, but this is left for us to decide.
Whatever the reader is meant to understand, (and I doubt the author accidentally left things this ambiguous), this is a powerful tale of warning against conceit of ones own ideas, and the danger of not critically assessing the truth of what other people tell you; this moral is illustrated both by the way the main character accepts what bad influences tell him, and how this leads him into trouble, and also by the way the author gives opposing or inconsistent details of events, in order to challenge our credulity and teach us to make our own conclusions instead.
Show Less
LibraryThing member datrappert
***** for this volume's main entry. This is a one-of-a-kind book that manages to tell the same story in two different ways and achieve two different reactions on the part of the reader. The villain of the first part becomes the narrator of the second part, and it turns out that there are some
And I should note that it isn't necessary to understand the various competing Scottish theologies and factions or other things the editor's over-complex introduction discusses. In fact, you'll probably enjoy it more by skipping the introduction, since it really does nothing to help you read the story. (At least, it has no spoilers, so I'll give it that much credit.) Reading it afterwards would probably make it better.
The Penguin Classics edition includes two more stories in the volume:
Marion's Jock ****
Once yet get past the nearly impenetrable Scots dialect, this story of a very hungry servant and the lengths he goes to to satisfy his desire for meat is quite entertaining and funny.
John Gray O' Middlehome
Show More
mitigating circumstances--namely, Satan! Believing completely in predestination and that the Christian saved are that way from birth, and that nothing they can do in life can change that, the villain can commit any crime with everlasting--though perhaps not immediate--impunity. To say more would spoil the experience. The book is full of Scots dialect, but pretty easy to understand, as the thickest dialect is reserved for the speech of rustic characters. (The glossary at the back of the book is very selective, so most dialect words aren't even defined, but I found it wasn't that hard to get the gist, and there's always Google.) In any case, this is a unique reading experience and about as good a story of the devil as you'll find. It has memorable scenes, great characters, and well-drawn settings. And even humor. Don't miss it.And I should note that it isn't necessary to understand the various competing Scottish theologies and factions or other things the editor's over-complex introduction discusses. In fact, you'll probably enjoy it more by skipping the introduction, since it really does nothing to help you read the story. (At least, it has no spoilers, so I'll give it that much credit.) Reading it afterwards would probably make it better.
The Penguin Classics edition includes two more stories in the volume:
Marion's Jock ****
Once yet get past the nearly impenetrable Scots dialect, this story of a very hungry servant and the lengths he goes to to satisfy his desire for meat is quite entertaining and funny.
John Gray O' Middlehome
Show Less
LibraryThing member jonfaith
Who is he that causeth the mole, from his secret path of darkness, to throw up the gem, the gold, and the precious ore?
Hogg should be better remembered. Justified Sinner is a dark revelation, one less gothic than psychological. The novel is a headbirth which ignores Lewis/Walpole/Radcliff and
Hogg should be better remembered. Justified Sinner is a dark revelation, one less gothic than psychological. The novel is a headbirth which ignores Lewis/Walpole/Radcliff and
Show More
instead Babadooks from a nascent emotional realism, one like Fyodor's magic door where everything is tinged yellow and seizures lead to murder. Speaking of crows, I heartily endorse the subtext as being an opposition to fanaticism or any dogmatic approach to life or social order. (Please leave the room, Rick Santorum). The novel is two tiered, a found editor's investigation and a journal form the eponymous: the latter is vain, contradictory and doomed. Sorry for the spoiler: what else could you expect from an early novel where Old Scratch is the wingman? There are veiled thoughts on marriage and inheritance at play, poky pines towards Church imposition. That said, this proved an enjoyable bout with the more sinister angels of our nature. Show Less
LibraryThing member Osbaldistone
Hogg pulls off a difficult stunt - he writes the same novel twice, each from the perspective of a different lead character. The result is a remarkable study in how different events and people can appear based on point of view. Overall, a good read.
LibraryThing member scot2
I downloaded this book from project Gutenberg. Gothic novels don't have the fast paced action that modern books have so I think you either like or you don't. Personally, I love gothic novels. The old Scots dialect may be a little difficult for some people to understand. It was a strange story,
Show More
dwelling on religion and the supernatural; the devil in particular. I agree with another reviewer; great devil, smooth talker, charming and persuasive. Show Less
LibraryThing member AlCracka
I have no idea what this is! 19th-century Gothic horror of some sort?
LibraryThing member neurodrew
The novel is from 1824, set in Scotland, and is in two parts, the first the bare outlines of the narrative, the second, longer, told by the evildoer, Robert Colwan. The first scenes are hilarious, of a Scot’s lord marrying a Calvinist beauty, to be put out of his wedding bed by her piety. She
Show More
bears two sons, the first in the mold of the Scots lord, gentlemanly, the second, possibly a product of illicit liaison with her minister, the evil Robert. Robert starts as a divinity student, but is dissembling and jealous in school, and is completely convinced of his righteousness when his father declares him an elect. He meets the devil, in the form of an alter ego or companion, immediately afterwards, and is tempted to every sin, killing his brother after ruining his brother’s life, possibly killing his mother, ravishing a young lady and finally committing suicide. All the while he justifies himself that as an elect, he will be in heaven, because nothing he does can alter the eternal will of God. Fast paced despite difficult language. Show Less
LibraryThing member anabellebf
Weird but interesting read that reminds me of many things, including Frankenstein, Lolita and Don Quixote, as well as Faust. I was a bit annoyed at the Scottish jargon, but it was an otherwise funny book with a strong satire of Protestant religious extremism.
LibraryThing member kant1066
"Confessions of a Justified Sinner" is exciting because it wears so many hats - it's a gothic novel, a murder mystery, and perhaps most of all a trenchant critique of Calvinist thought. It consists of three parts: an objective summary of events in the novel, the events as told through the eyes of
The beginning of the novel tells of the marriage of a young, conservative termagant named Rabina to George Colwan, an outgoing, fun-loving man who is put off by Rabina's extreme Calvinism. Their marriage effectively ends in their separation, but not before he impregnates her (probably in an act of rape), after which she gives birth to George. His father raises him well, and he grows up to be an academically gifted, well-adjusted young man. Shortly after the separation, Rabina's ultra-conservative religious advisor Reverend Wringham moves in with her, and she soon has another child (this time probably by the Reverend) named Robert, who takes Wringham's name. Robert turns out to be the anti-George: maladjusted, antisocial, vindictive, and hateful. The Reverend convinces Robert that he is justified in the eyes of God - that is, guaranteed to go to Heaven and be forgiven of whatever sins he might happen to commit on Earth. As one of God's elect, he can do no wrong.
Even though they were raised separately and never allowed to see one another, sometime during early adulthood, Robert starts to stalk George through the city of Edinburgh, generally causing trouble wherever he goes. George also begins to notice that wherever he is, Robert is also very close by, as if he is being shadowed by a doppelganger. Robert's malevolent antics do everything from strike terror into the heart of George to causing a town-wide fracas. When George is finally murdered in a drunken brawl, his step-mother encounters a prostitute who claims to have seen the incident. She says that Robert did it. Later, Robert admits to the crime in one of the most revealing confessions in all of literature, putting on full display his strange, perverse motives, obsessions and compulsions about the purity of his soul.
The second part of the novel shifts into Robert's telling of the story, and we learn of the presence of one Gil-Martin, who has goaded and encouraged Robert's deviance, even doing so in the name of Calvinistic sanctity and justice. Gil-Martin is also a protean shape-shifter who can assume Robert's form at will, and commits murder while doing so. At first, Robert understands the necessity of these acts because they are in the name of the greatness of God. But eventually Robert's doubts start to grow as to how holy Gil-Martin's murders really are. Even the prototypical Calvinist fanatic ends up having a conscience. At the end of the novel, the reader is still left hanging as to Gil-Martin's identity. Is he real, or merely a figment of Robert's imagination?
Some of what I read, I read out of a sense of obligation, because I think I need to. I thought this would be one of those books, too. I was surprised to find that it moved at the clip of a modern psychological thriller, while always maintaining its literariness. If you found anything to admire in Walpole's "The Castle of Otranto" or Lewis' "The Monk," I highly recommend this.
Show More
Robert Wringham, and the retelling of how the author (who also uses the name James Hogg) came across Wringham's account of the story. True to the early eighteenth century's Romantic fascination with all things fragmentary, broken, and incomplete, this novel uses the conceit of being a "found document," in this case the handwritten history of Robert's experiences.The beginning of the novel tells of the marriage of a young, conservative termagant named Rabina to George Colwan, an outgoing, fun-loving man who is put off by Rabina's extreme Calvinism. Their marriage effectively ends in their separation, but not before he impregnates her (probably in an act of rape), after which she gives birth to George. His father raises him well, and he grows up to be an academically gifted, well-adjusted young man. Shortly after the separation, Rabina's ultra-conservative religious advisor Reverend Wringham moves in with her, and she soon has another child (this time probably by the Reverend) named Robert, who takes Wringham's name. Robert turns out to be the anti-George: maladjusted, antisocial, vindictive, and hateful. The Reverend convinces Robert that he is justified in the eyes of God - that is, guaranteed to go to Heaven and be forgiven of whatever sins he might happen to commit on Earth. As one of God's elect, he can do no wrong.
Even though they were raised separately and never allowed to see one another, sometime during early adulthood, Robert starts to stalk George through the city of Edinburgh, generally causing trouble wherever he goes. George also begins to notice that wherever he is, Robert is also very close by, as if he is being shadowed by a doppelganger. Robert's malevolent antics do everything from strike terror into the heart of George to causing a town-wide fracas. When George is finally murdered in a drunken brawl, his step-mother encounters a prostitute who claims to have seen the incident. She says that Robert did it. Later, Robert admits to the crime in one of the most revealing confessions in all of literature, putting on full display his strange, perverse motives, obsessions and compulsions about the purity of his soul.
The second part of the novel shifts into Robert's telling of the story, and we learn of the presence of one Gil-Martin, who has goaded and encouraged Robert's deviance, even doing so in the name of Calvinistic sanctity and justice. Gil-Martin is also a protean shape-shifter who can assume Robert's form at will, and commits murder while doing so. At first, Robert understands the necessity of these acts because they are in the name of the greatness of God. But eventually Robert's doubts start to grow as to how holy Gil-Martin's murders really are. Even the prototypical Calvinist fanatic ends up having a conscience. At the end of the novel, the reader is still left hanging as to Gil-Martin's identity. Is he real, or merely a figment of Robert's imagination?
Some of what I read, I read out of a sense of obligation, because I think I need to. I thought this would be one of those books, too. I was surprised to find that it moved at the clip of a modern psychological thriller, while always maintaining its literariness. If you found anything to admire in Walpole's "The Castle of Otranto" or Lewis' "The Monk," I highly recommend this.
Show Less
LibraryThing member ClarionPublishing
One of the novels that has had the most influence on me. Electrifying read - one of the forgotten classics.
LibraryThing member Paul_S
Despite the pretend double-bluff contained within I'm going to go with the critique of Calvinism interpretation. It probably dates me that what I first thought a few chapters in wasn't Jekyll and Hyde but Fight Club. As for the name Gil Martin, it occurs to me that it's phonetically close to God
Show More
Almighty which would makes sense seeing as he's created by the protagonist and to him that's what he appears to be. Beyond being ahead of its time it's not that exceptional but I really enjoyed it - I liked the multiple angles (both in the context of narration and interpretation). Show Less
LibraryThing member DeFor
Hilarious and appalling at the same time.
LibraryThing member Miro
A nicely drawn criticism of a warped and intolerant fundamental religious personality (in this case 19th century Christian).
LibraryThing member DarthDeverell
James Hogg’s 1824 novel, The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner: Written by Himself: With a detail of curious traditionary facts and other evidence by the editor tells the story of the George Colwan, the Laird of Dalcastle, and his two sons, George and Robert. The elder Laird
The second half of the novel tells the story from Robert’s point of view, with his antinomian beliefs allowing him to sin with abandon. Robert falls under the sway of a shape-shifting man who encourages him to sin further. The man calls himself Gil-Martin, but Robert believes him to be Czar Peter of Russia (pg. 127). When Robert first questions Gil-Martin about his name, the shape-shifter says, “You may call me Gil-Martin. It is not my Christian name; but it is a name which may serve your turn” (pg. 122). He further states, “I have no parents save one, whom I do not acknowledge” (pg. 122). Hogg intends for the readers to infer that Gil-Martin is the Devil, though he also introduces enough doubt that Gil-Martin may be nothing more than a figment of Robert’s imagination. This version of the literary Devil is particularly interesting, as the doubt over his existence and the fact that he cannot make Robert do anything that he doesn’t want to anyway encourages further questioning of theological dogmatism.
The novel engages directly with Calvinist theology and the concept of predestination, with Robert, the “sinner,” describing himself as “justified” to refer to his acceptance of Calvinism and belief that he is among the elect predestined for paradise, which contradicts the belief that good works could gain entry to heaven. Thus, Robert points out one of the flaws with antinomian predestination (besides assuming the existence of an all-powerful being without repeatable, testable evidence) – if good works will not permit entry to paradise since the “saved” have been chosen since the beginning of time, then they are free to sin at will confident in their belief that their sins were already cleansed through the crucifixion. The “sinner” muses upon this, thinking, “The more I pondered on these things, the more I saw of the folly and inconsistency of ministers, in spending their lives, striving and remonstrating with sinners, in order to induce them to do that which they had it not in their power to do” (pg. 117). Hogg further criticizes the gullible or easily misled through his portrayal of Reverend Wringhim’s belief in maternal impression, a belief William Hogarth criticized in his 1762 satirical print, Credulity, Superstition and Fanaticism (pg. 104). For those interested in Scottish literature or work that engages with the Scottish Reformation, this is a must-read, though Hogg’s use of dialect to capture the Scottish brogue coupled with archaic slang may be difficult for nonacademic readers.
Show More
marries Rabina Orde, a devout woman who rejects his impiousness. She later has a son, George, who is the Laird’s heir. Her second son, Robert, is strongly implied to be the son of her minister, the Reverend Wringhim. The two brothers are separated, with George learning all he needs to become the future Laird while Wringhim raises Robert in his antinomian Calvinist beliefs. When the two brothers meet later on, they frequently fight. George dies in an apparent duel and Robert is accused of the murder, but disappears before he can face trial.The second half of the novel tells the story from Robert’s point of view, with his antinomian beliefs allowing him to sin with abandon. Robert falls under the sway of a shape-shifting man who encourages him to sin further. The man calls himself Gil-Martin, but Robert believes him to be Czar Peter of Russia (pg. 127). When Robert first questions Gil-Martin about his name, the shape-shifter says, “You may call me Gil-Martin. It is not my Christian name; but it is a name which may serve your turn” (pg. 122). He further states, “I have no parents save one, whom I do not acknowledge” (pg. 122). Hogg intends for the readers to infer that Gil-Martin is the Devil, though he also introduces enough doubt that Gil-Martin may be nothing more than a figment of Robert’s imagination. This version of the literary Devil is particularly interesting, as the doubt over his existence and the fact that he cannot make Robert do anything that he doesn’t want to anyway encourages further questioning of theological dogmatism.
The novel engages directly with Calvinist theology and the concept of predestination, with Robert, the “sinner,” describing himself as “justified” to refer to his acceptance of Calvinism and belief that he is among the elect predestined for paradise, which contradicts the belief that good works could gain entry to heaven. Thus, Robert points out one of the flaws with antinomian predestination (besides assuming the existence of an all-powerful being without repeatable, testable evidence) – if good works will not permit entry to paradise since the “saved” have been chosen since the beginning of time, then they are free to sin at will confident in their belief that their sins were already cleansed through the crucifixion. The “sinner” muses upon this, thinking, “The more I pondered on these things, the more I saw of the folly and inconsistency of ministers, in spending their lives, striving and remonstrating with sinners, in order to induce them to do that which they had it not in their power to do” (pg. 117). Hogg further criticizes the gullible or easily misled through his portrayal of Reverend Wringhim’s belief in maternal impression, a belief William Hogarth criticized in his 1762 satirical print, Credulity, Superstition and Fanaticism (pg. 104). For those interested in Scottish literature or work that engages with the Scottish Reformation, this is a must-read, though Hogg’s use of dialect to capture the Scottish brogue coupled with archaic slang may be difficult for nonacademic readers.
Show Less
LibraryThing member amerynth
I bought a copy of James Hogg's "The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner" for a group read months ago. The cover of this edition freaked one of my kids out, so I put it "away" and promptly lost it... it turned up recently so I decided to give it a go.
The plot of the story is
If it sounds convoluted, you're right it is. At times this was tough to get to, although I thought the overall concept of the story was interesting. The execution was what made it a tough read.
The plot of the story is
Show More
centered around Robert, who may or may not have been the son of Laird Colwan -- who grows up a Calvinist who believes he has been chosen to go to heaven no matter what he does. He comes under the influence of a man -- or the devil -- and commits a series of crimes (or the devil does.)If it sounds convoluted, you're right it is. At times this was tough to get to, although I thought the overall concept of the story was interesting. The execution was what made it a tough read.
Show Less
LibraryThing member London_StJ
A fantastic specimen of gothic literature at its most ironic and entertaining!
LibraryThing member brakketh
Brilliant and engaging twice told tale.
Awards
Meilleur livre étranger (1948)
The Guardian 1000 Novels Everyone Must Read (Science Fiction and Fantasy)
Horror: The 100 Best Books (1824)
Language
Original publication date
1824
Physical description
256 p.; 5.14 inches
ISBN
0140431985 / 9780140431988
Local notes
The Penguin English Library