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Philadelphia, the late 1870s. A city of gas lamps, cobblestone streets, and horse-drawn carriages and home to the controversial surgeon Dr. Spencer Black. The son of a grave robber, young Dr. Black studies at Philadelphia's esteemed Academy of Medicine, where he develops an unconventional hypothesis: What if the world's most celebrated mythological beasts, mermaids, minotaurs, and satyrs, were in fact the evolutionary ancestors of humankind? The Resurrectionist offers two extraordinary books in one. The first is a fictional biography of Dr. Spencer Black, from a childhood spent exhuming corpses through his medical training, his travels with carnivals, and the mysterious disappearance at the end of his life. The second book is Black's magnum opus: The Codex Extinct Animalia, a Gray's Anatomy for mythological beasts, dragons, centaurs, Pegasus, Cerberus. all rendered in meticulously detailed anatomical illustrations. You need only look at these images to realize they are the work of a madman.… (more)
User reviews
Would you like an anatomy and physiology textbook for mythological creatures? If yes, then The Resurrectionist is the book for you. This handsome hardcover has well laid out and detailed depictions of mythological skeletons and muscular
The narrative portion of the book is brief and frankly of little interest. The "mysteries" are obvious and the detached narrative voice combined with fragments of letters and articles inspires little attachment to the characters.
A fun coffee table book for the D&D set, but otherwise nothing original.
The book is divided in two parts, the first a is 54-page biography of Black -- the second is Black’s own magnum opus, the 125-page “The Codex Extinct Animalia: A Study of the Lesser Known Species of the Animal Kingdom.”
The biography of Black is told through his journal entries, letters, drawings, advertising placards, and excerpts of others’ commentary about Black’s work, all tied together by a third person narrative that takes the reader through the events of his life in chronological order from his birth in 1851 to his strange disappearance in 1908. He begins as a brilliant student and anatomist at Philadelphia’s Academy of Medicine and specializes in studying and treating birth defects. As his career progresses, he becomes increasingly fixated on the cause of these mutations, coming to believe that they represent the body’s struggle to express earlier forms of life, now extinct. His sanity melts away and he begins to try and recreate these creatures, performing ghastly surgeries to graft together monsters. His experimentation extends to his own family, as he performs mysterious transformations on his son and wife.
Black’s greatest work, The Codex Extinct Animalia, features short descriptions of eleven different bizarre species (Pegasus, the sphinx, mermaid, dragon, and so on), with multiple anatomical drawings of each showing their skeleton, musculature, and in some cases organs. As many Early Reviewers who received this advanced reading copy have noted, a large number of the illustrations are represented by blank pages in the ARC, with more than two thirds of the drawings in The Codex missing. I admit to frustration, but can’t complain when I’m receiving a free book. The illustrations that were present are surprisingly uneven in quality – some wonderfully compelling, some flat and poorly rendered. A good example being the “fawn boy.” The drawing of the boy from the back, flayed open to reveal his muscles (on page 35) is beautiful, delicate, and evocative – you feel the presence of a once living being. The drawing on the opposite page, showing the creature from the front in full, is unconvincing -- the face poorly realized and the upper portion of the figure outlined but without the detail and tangibility of an actual body. The detail of his goat-leg on that same page – great. Of course I can’t assess the drawings as a whole since I saw so few of them. But I’m puzzled that the same artist can do both such inspiring and such disappointing work. In a video on his home page, artist/author E. B. Hudspeth notes that the drawings preceded the story and grew out of his quest to understand how (for example), functional wings could be melded onto a human frame. Given this genesis, I’d wish that illustrations were more uniformly captivating.
The text of The Resurrectionist: The Lost Work of Dr. Spencer Black is an exploration of the intoxicating power of restoring the sick to health, the dread of death, and the maniacal pursuit of knowledge. This is Hudspeth’s first work and he creates a believable and compelling voice for Black, but the third-person narrative is stiff and awkward, with many clunkers: “He and his family were forced to adapt to a new lifestyle, one that was incredibly different from what they had previously been accustomed to.” And there are distracting anachronisms. Hudspeth has Black use the term genetics, not coined until after the action of the book takes place. Despite all my many reservations, I really enjoyed The Resurrectionist. Enough that I’m planning to buy a final copy of the actual book – I want to see all those missing drawings! I’m giving it three and half stars, in no small part because I appreciate an author and a publisher taking a risk and trying something that has quite literally never been done before.
All of that, however, seems to exist mainly as set-up and context for the art that makes up the bulk of the book and features anatomical diagrams of fantastical animals purportedly drawn by Dr. Black himself. And here, as a reviewer, I run into major problems, since the ARC version that I received for review was missing the majority of the artwork. In fact, over a third of the entire book was nothing but blank pages! Quite what the publisher was thinking, sending it out in this shape, I don't know. But, needless to say, I can't review things I haven't seen. I can say that what illustrations I saw were well-drawn and very detailed, and fairly interesting, in a macabre sort of way. I would hope that the rest of them would be of the same quality, but I have no way of knowing. Nor can I evaluate what kind of cumulative effect they might have on a reader. If I'd been able to keep flipping through page after page of these diagrams, would I have found myself increasingly fascinated, or would I have quickly started to get bored? I have absolutely no idea. Which also means that I honestly cannot say whether I'd recommend the book or not... Although, really, that might be difficult to answer even if I did have the entire thing available. It's an odd little book, but probably not quite as gloriously odd as it wants to be.
Rating: I cannot rate this one, due to insufficient data.
Quite a creepy book overall, in which the seriously deranged ideas of a troubled mind are brought to cruel fruition. But I have to say I wanted more depth, more description, more details ...
The book follows the life of Dr. Spencer Black, from his birth in Boston in the 1800's, through his rise through medical school to be a prominent physician, and then the decline of his career as his interests veered from the "natural" field of human anatomy and into the supernatural and cryptozoology..
A great deal of this book is reproduced letters or journal entries, linked together with narrative. I found myself wishing there was more narrative, going more in depth into the results of the doctor's later experiments to trace - and restore - the human form back to its origins (which the doctor believed to be mythological creatures most people regard as only fairy stories). The constant transitioning between narrative and source material felt jarring to me, but it makes sense within the structure of this book.
This book had the same feeling as "The Monstrumologist" or "Night Circus," but being the biography of an eccentric recluse, didn't seem to have enough material to make the story rich enough to really get lost in.
The biography reads exactly like a “real” reconstructed account of a life, interspersed with excerpts from Black’s diaries and letters. These perfectly capture the style and tone of the period, and lend a great deal of verisimilitude to the book. Seeing Black’s life in brief glimpses adds to the slow-burn creepiness; as we don’t get to see too much, the hints of horror tantalize and gradually increase the intensity of the story. Overall, the result is perhaps too coy, but I personally prefer this to a narrative that spells everything out.
The “Codex Extinct Animalia” is a great accompaniment to the biography, with detailed drawings of Black’s studies. Unfortunately, it was hard to really get a feel for this section, as the ARC I received was missing most of the illustrations. The art that was present was interesting and fairly well rendered. But without seeing all of it, I couldn’t say whether the overall effect would be impressive or repetitive.
The book starts with a short-ish biography of the fictional Dr. Spencer Black that reads like a combination of Frankenstein and The Island of Dr. Moreau. The biggest problem
I received an ARC that didn’t have all of the art, but the illustrations that were there were amazing.
I can’t recommend The Resurrectionist as a great book to read, but it is certainly worth looking at.
The first part of the book is the biography of Dr. Black, and the second part is his notebooks with anatomical drawings of various mythological creatures. Unfortunately, the advance copy I had was missing about 75% of the illustrations, so those are hard to judge. The illustrations that were there are well done, but the supporting text is minimal, so it is hard to get much of interest from them. The biography is minimal and mostly opens up a lot of questions that are never addressed. The Resurrectionist is a good concept that doesn't work in this implementation.
While the premise is already intriguing, the book never quite lived up to its potential. “Brief” is a key word, as the actual biography part takes up only 65 pages, with the rest being in-depth anatomical drawings of the bizarre creatures Dr. Black envisions in his Codex Extinct Animalia. It felt like a flimsy pretext, as if the pictures – though admittedly gorgeous and just twisted enough so that you can’t look away – were created first and the rest came after. This ordinarily wouldn’t bother me, except it felt like the same lavish devotion that was given to the pictures was not shown toward the story; parts of it felt rushed, and the author missed that balance between “just enough to be scary” and “not so much detail that it doesn’t become scary”. It is the difference between, “You are alone in a dark room” and “You are alone in a dark room when you hear the tap-tap of claws along the floor”. The reader’s imagination is an extraordinary thing, one that horror writers are keenly attuned to, knowing exactly how much to leave to the imagination, but not giving enough just feels cheap. The ending is deliberately left ambiguous, which is par for the course in horror novels, but several times during the story, the reader is left wanting. There is a brief anecdote regarding an incident when “one of his creatures, the Serpent Queen, attacked a member of the audience” but “Nothing more is known about the performance or the victim” (59). Later, there is mention of his son, Alphonse, carrying on his father’s work, but “little is known of Alphonse or his work” (63). There is even another instance where he discontinues the Codex for reasons unknown (66). His brother also disappears mysteriously (65). The story portion, as I mentioned, is only 65 pages; the trick is oversaturated in that short amount of time.
The Codex Extinct Animalia, as I mentioned, has some truly beautiful, bizarre, and weirdly compelling pictures of the anatomical properties of the mythological creatures Dr. Black argues really existed; they are oddly intriguing, but there are so many of them and they are so in-depth that I had to question who this book was really for. Even I couldn’t be bothered to read every single skeleton and muscles that were labelled in each of the drawings. For something that took up a major portion of the book, it didn’t have enough to it to keep it interesting. Some additional notes from Dr. Black, perhaps showing further his descent into madness, might have added something to it to keep the reader’s interest.
A good novelty read, but not something that is destined to make a lasting impression, I’m afraid. Hudspeth’s drawings and writing are more than serviceable, and if he chose to develop them more, I’m certain he could write (and draw) a perfectly chilling novel; The Resurrectionist, however, was just too short and overused the same tricks too often to win me over.
Three stars only because I really did like the illustrations, which make up more than half of the book.
The part of the book devoted to the fictional biography was really boring. The lack of detail was purposeful since the story is supposed to be that little is known about the subject, but I can't get engaged with a text where every other sentence simply comments that no information is known. I found the story vestigial and in need of excision. It's harsh, but I really think the book would have worked better if it was just an artbook or the writing had been asemic like in the Codex Seraphinianus or the Voynich Manuscript. At least then my imagination could supply the details.
I visited the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia for the first time last summer, and the book seems steeped in that atmosphere, especially the teratogenic specimens for which the museum is famous, as well as its Victorian cabinet-of-curiosities feel. There's a feel that echoes the science of the day, and the post-Darwinian anxiety is palpable. The book contains a fairly obvious tribute to Mary Shelley in naming two of Black's children Victor and Elizabeth, and one of the sons who survives to adulthood, Alphonse (Alphonse Frankenstein was Victor's father in Shelley's book).
The ARC I had, from the LibraryThing Early Reviewers' program, had many pages of "illustration TK" which saddens me, because what was present was amazing. I may have to wishlist this just to see the rest.
E.B. Hudspeth
Quirk Books
The fact that many corpses were dragged illegally from their graves to further the cause of improving medical science is by now a well known fact. It is the effect that this may have had on a grave robbers son and assistant that is explored in 'The
The first part of the book is a brief biography of Dr. Stephen Black, which is told in a matter of fact tone which stands in contrast with the occasional excerpts form Black's increasingly unhinged journal, a book within a book if you will. As a child of 10 or 11 he was conscripted, along with his brother Bernard, into his father's (also a doctor) sideline of stealing corpses, with the horror one would expect from a child of this age.
As he grows up, attending medical school, and then practicing medicine himself, he become convinced that human mutation, conjoined twins, extra digits, foreshortened limbs etc, are manifestations of earlier mythological beings, cast aside during evolution but appearing in modern man from time to time. His increasingly adamant conviction and the measures he goes to to proves them lead to the expected results with colleagues and his wife and brother, and sets him and his family down an increasingly dark path which I don't want to give away here, suffice it to say it ends with quite a mystery that had me wishing Hudspeth had fleshed out and finished this part of the book, though I realizedthat a little mystery in horror is a good thing.
The second part of the book represents the work and sketches of Black, who was an excellent artist and taxidermist, as well as a doctor. It is also the part most difficult for me to judge since I read an incomplete proof that was missing many of the illustrations. What there were were beautifully done with notes on each creature, such as harpies, different varieties of mermaid, centaurs and the like, laid out in a way the recalls natural history texts.
It took my quite awhile to review this as my 11 year old son, picked it right after it arrived and got sucked into it. He loved it, so if you have any advanced middle school readers (particularly boys who seem to adore the ewww! factor at this age, I'd recommend it to them as well as readers of horror, mystery and fans of mythological creatures and natural history.
E.B. Hudspeth’s The Resurrectionist: The Lost Work of Dr. Spencer Black. Quirk Books. 2013. ISBN: 978159476161
E.B. Hudspeth has added something new to the world of mid-Atlantic & New England horror/dark fantasy with The Resurrectionist: The Lost
Explanation.
My review copy is incomplete unfortunately. It is an Advanced Readers Copy (ARC) – a galley copy in paperback missing art from some sections. The text is present as well as all organization segments making the book what it will be in the final hardcover publication format. The importance of the missing pages relates to the suggestion in the narration of the importance of the creature, Harpy Erinyes – a female human-like being with bird like legs and large wings – to Dr. Spencer Black, the genius doctor with skills in studying mysterious beings and elaborate surgical procedures. Without these images, one loses a sense of the attention paid this particular creature. Hey, but maybe these missing pages become part of the real “lost work.”
The Resurrectionist is, in part, a biography of Dr. Spencer Black, born in Boston, Mass in 1851 as well as a “lost” work containing detailed genus/species style drawings in which are exhibited deconstructed views of vanished beings no longer commonly seen in the world. This collision of art and storytelling is not new to dark fantasy. I think about Lovecraft’s innovative story, “Pickman’s Model,” a yarn of some darkness about a man who found in the bowels of an old city unseen mysterious inspiration for macabre paintings. There are no images in Lovecraft’s story. But one yearns to see them. In this work, Hudspeth (himself an artist) includes lots of drawings of creatures such as Minotaurus Asterion, Satyrus Hircinus, Siren Oceanus and afore mentioned Harpy Erinyes. The allusion here is not to inspiration. Inspiration comes through in other creative ways in the novel. Rather, the drawings allude to another even older form of scientific art – Dr. Henry Gray’s drawings in his famous anatomy book from 1918 – and also coincidentally published in Pennsylvania. The images are integral to the work. Each one will be present in the final edition.
On the subject of scientific art, it is here where Lovecraft’s influence is most felt through the work. Not art as in images, but the art of dedicating oneself to finding out the “truth.” A large current running through Lovecraft’s work is the type of story in which a main character becomes intrigued to find out something seen or heard and then follows each possible clue until that thing is found. The problem with this choice for nearly every character whose narrative conforms to this story structure is the characters end up locked away or doing their very best to dissuade anyone else from following in their footsteps. They become traumatized. Nearly 100 years earlier (1818), Mary Shelley structured Frankenstein similarly. Dr. Spencer Black is a young doctor with tons of adoration and respect when he begins his tenure at the Academy of Medicine. He performs surgeries and wrote well-received papers on the medical questions of his day – 1870s Philadelphia. Dr. Black is well respected and well paid.
All this changes as he turns more of his energy to figuring out the anatomy of all these mythical beings he is sure exist. And of course, as a scientist, empiricism must reign in his methods. The core of the book and the real Lovecraftian influence is felt through as Dr. Spencer Black’s “methods” are explored by E.B. Hudspeth.
The book is dominated by a detached tone. As if he is writing a history. The sections are even segmented by years, e.g., 1869: The Academy of Medicine or 1878: The Fawn-Child. This reserved style adds a lot to the text. Especially in contrast to the fantastical art and the nearly unbelievable way in which Dr. Black swerves his life away from love and peace. The art, as stated above, is stylized after Dr. Henry Gray. But the subject matter…well…therein is the book’s core and play. I have looked through Gray’s Anatomy and have seen none of Dr. Black’s images in those pages.
I recommend it.
A masterful mash-up of Edgar Allan Poe and Jorge Luis Borges, with the added allure of gorgeous, demonically detailed drawings. I’ve never seen anything quite like The Resurrectionist, and I doubt that I will ever forget it.
I would have liked more of a story. Which being told in the first 65 pages, there isn’t much time to develop a character so Black’s transformation seems a bit forced. Yes the drawings are meticulous and look like they came out of a textbook, but there are too many of each individual creature.
Minor problems aside, this is certainly a page-turner. From the setting through the illustrations there is a sense of the mysterious and the author handles the story with the right touch so it doesn’t come across as just another book about a doctor with bats in the belfry. For those looking for an unusual read, fans of the horror genre, or people who own a copy of Gray’s Anatomy.
The biography describes a young doctor who specialized in the restoration of deformed individuals. Through his many surgeries to correct the abnormalities, he established a prestigious reputation among the community. But when he visits a travelling carnival and sees the “fawn-child” his mind is piqued. “What if I could do that?” he begins to question – thus turning him into a mad man, hell-bent on creating the once mythical creatures by surgically grafting them together.
The illustrations in the Codex are beautifully done – I was surprised about the identity of the Harpy though, especially after reading Black’s final letter to his brother.
Dr. Spencer Black, a controversial surgeon, is considered a prodigy until he begins studying the unconventional. Operating on those born with deformities he comes to the conclusion that creatures of mythology are actually the ancestors of humans. He
My complaint would have to be that there is very little text and I feel like I am missing something. The plot is incredibly fascinating to me, which could explain why the lack of text bothers me. Carnivals have always held my interest and I think the lifestyle has an occult like appeal to people. It’s definitely a quick read and flows very well.
The artwork is amazing. I do wish there would have been more to the story, but the pictures make up for that fact somewhat. It’s nice to be able to see what you are reading every once in awhile. I realize this will not work for everyone but I do recommend it. The story is dark but the artwork adds a little bit of whimsy for the imagination.
The Resurrectionist: The Lost Work of Dr. Spencer Black opens with a dense, interesting narrative: the biography of the dark protagonist. Readers tend to get bored with extended narratives, so this introduction is
"I hear them marvel at my work—my indignant science. I hear them call out in fear of what they see. And there are some gentlemen who doubt what I will tell them. They call me a liar and a charlatan or a quack. But in time the methods of science that I now employ to convince people will surely set them free—alas, this I cannot explain to the angry fools."
The setting is ideal for redefining the nature of “man.” The turn of the 19th century was rich with advances in evolutionary theory, science, and even speculative fiction. Anatomists, philosophers, and scientists ruminated on how far to extrapolate Darwin’s assertions. Most understood that all vertebrates shared a common skeletal structure; but if animals and man were connected in their development, was it not reasonable to reconsider the existence of creatures termed mythological? Were centaurs real? Harpies? Demons? Spencer Black needed to know. Hudspeth uses him to lure us on this quest.
There are real life analogues to the fictitious Spencer. Ernst Haeckel (1834–1919) comes to mind. A dedicated, philosophical scientist with outstanding artistic skills, he documented thousands of life forms and published his beautiful plates in “Art Forms in Nature” (translated from German: Kunstforman der Natur). But then his fascination with Art-Nature caused an uproar when he tweaked his drawings of embryos in 1874. Haeckel envisioned familiarities across the embryos of fish, salamanders, turtles, pigs, rabbits, and humans; then he represented these in an evocative table. At a time when photography was not practiced, data was art…and vice versa. Some still claim his drawings were legitimate, but in any case, his artistic embellishments stirred a controversy. That controversy is the same the Hudspeth delivers:
At what point does “man” begin and “animal” end?
The fictional Spencer Black is more corrupt than the real Ernest Haeckel, but now their books share space on my bookshelf. I recommend the hardcopy so you can use it as coffee table book. The anatomical drawings of mythological creatures will certainly entertain and inspire.