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Excerpt
Excerpt from A. V. Laider, by Sir Max Beerbohm
"No, of course not. I don't deserve that you should. But I think you
will. May I explain? I'm afraid I've talked a great deal already
about my influenza, and I sha'n't be able to keep it out of my
explanation. Well, my weakest point--I told you this last year, but it
happens to be perfectly true that my weakest point--is my will.
Influenza, as you know, fastens unerringly on one's weakest point. It
doesn't attempt to undermine my imagination. That would be a forlorn
hope. I have, alas! a very strong imagination. At ordinary times my
imagination allows itself to be governed by my will. My will keeps it
in check by constant nagging. But when my will isn't strong enough
even to nag, then my imagination stampedes. I become even as a little
child. I tell myself the most preposterous fables, and--the trouble
is--I can't help telling them to my friends. Until I've thoroughly
shaken off influenza, I'm not fit company for any one. I perfectly
realize this, and I have the good sense to go right away till I'm quite
well again. I come here usually. It seems absurd, but I must confess
I was sorry last year when we fell into conversation. I knew I should
very soon be letting myself go, or, rather, very soon be swept away.
Perhaps I ought to have warned you; but--I'm a rather shy man. And
then you mentioned the subject of palmistry. You said you believed in
it. I wondered at that. I had once read Desbarolles's book about it,
but I am bound to say I thought the whole thing very great nonsense
indeed."
"Then," I gasped, "it isn't even true that you believe in palmistry?"
"Oh, no. But I wasn't able to tell you that. You had begun by saying
that you believed in palmistry, and then you proceeded to scoff at it.
While you scoffed I saw myself as a man with a terribly good reason for
NOT scoffing; and in a flash I saw the terribly good reason; I had the
whole story--at least I had the broad outlines of it--clear before me."
Explanation
Sir Max Beerbohm’s A. V. Laider (1916) is a short story from his collection Seven Men, a series of satirical character sketches that blend wit, psychological insight, and social commentary. The excerpt you’ve provided captures the narrator’s encounter with the eccentric A. V. Laider, a man whose self-awareness is undermined by his own imaginative compulsions. The passage is a masterclass in Beerbohm’s style: ironic, self-deprecating, and rich with psychological nuance. Below is a detailed breakdown of the text, focusing on its themes, literary devices, and the speaker’s revelations about his own mind.
Context and Overview
A. V. Laider is a first-person narrative in which the unnamed narrator recounts his strange interactions with the titular character, a man prone to elaborate, self-dramatizing lies—particularly when weakened by illness (in this case, influenza). The story explores themes of self-deception, the unreliability of narrative, and the tension between will and imagination. Laider is a compulsive fabulist, but unlike a typical liar, he is painfully aware of his own tendencies and even apologizes for them. This makes him a tragicomic figure: he cannot help spinning tales, yet he despises himself for doing so.
The excerpt occurs after Laider has already confessed to fabricating stories when ill. Here, he explains the psychological mechanism behind his lies, using his recent bout of influenza as a case study. The passage is both an apology and a performance—Laider is analyzing his own mind even as he indulges it.
Themes in the Excerpt
The Fragility of Will and the Tyranny of Imagination
- Laider’s central conflict is between his will (his rational, controlling faculty) and his imagination (his creative, unruly impulse). He frames this as a battle: normally, his will "nags" his imagination into submission, but when weakened by illness, his imagination "stampedes" like an untamed horse.
- The influenza is a metaphor for vulnerability—it doesn’t attack his imagination (which is already strong) but his weakest point: his will. This suggests that Laider’s lies are not malicious but a symptom of his psychological constitution.
Self-Awareness and Powerlessness
- Laider is hyper-articulate about his own flaws. He knows he’s unreliable ("I’m not fit company for anyone"), yet he cannot stop himself. This creates a tragic irony: he is both the analyst and the victim of his own mind.
- His confession is almost clinical ("I become even as a little child"), but the childlike metaphor underscores his lack of control. He is not a deceitful man; he is a man possessed by his own stories.
The Social Performance of Lies
- Laider’s lies are not just personal indulgences—they are performative. He feels compelled to share them with others, even when he knows he shouldn’t ("I was sorry last year when we fell into conversation").
- The mention of palmistry is a key example. He doesn’t believe in it, but when the narrator brings it up, his imagination instantly fabricates a backstory for why he would believe in it. His lies are reactive, sparked by social cues.
The Unreliability of Narrative
- Beerbohm plays with the idea that all storytelling is a kind of lie. Laider’s tales are extreme, but the narrator (and by extension, the reader) is also complicit in believing them.
- The line "I had the whole story—at least I had the broad outlines of it—clear before me" suggests how quickly the mind constructs narratives to fit a situation, even when they’re false.
Literary Devices and Stylistic Features
Irony and Understatement
- Laider’s tone is self-deprecating and ironic. He says, "I’m afraid I’ve talked a great deal already about my influenza," as if apologizing for boring the listener, when in fact he’s about to launch into another monologue about it.
- The line "It seems absurd, but I must confess I was sorry last year when we fell into conversation" is darkly humorous—he’s sorry because he knew he’d start lying, yet he couldn’t resist.
Metaphor and Simile
- "My imagination stampedes": The comparison to a wild horse conveys the uncontrollable, destructive nature of his lies.
- "I become even as a little child": This suggests innocence but also helplessness—he is not morally culpable, but he is also not in control.
Repetition and Emphasis
- The repetition of "my weakest point" and "my will" reinforces the psychological fixation Laider has on his own mind.
- The phrase "I can’t help telling them to my friends" is delivered almost as a confession, emphasizing his compulsion.
Dramatic Irony
- The narrator (and reader) is led to believe Laider’s stories, only to find out they’re fabrications. Yet even his explanation of his lies is so vivid that it feels like another performance.
- When he says, "I had the whole story... clear before me," it’s both an admission of lying and a demonstration of how lies are made.
Dialogue as Revelation
- The narrator’s interjection ("Then... it isn’t even true that you believe in palmistry?") serves as a comic deflation—Laider’s elaborate theory is undercut by the simple fact that he was making it up.
- Laider’s response ("Oh, no. But I wasn’t able to tell you that") highlights the gap between thought and speech—he knows the truth but cannot say it.
Significance of the Passage
Psychological Realism
- Beerbohm captures the mechanics of self-deception with remarkable precision. Laider’s lies are not premeditated; they are spontaneous, reactive, and almost involuntary.
- The passage anticipates modern ideas about compulsive behavior and the unconscious mind (Freud’s theories were gaining traction around this time).
Satire of Social Interaction
- Laider’s lies are a satire of polite conversation, where people often say things they don’t mean to fit in or impress others. His palmistry story is a exaggerated version of how social cues trigger performative responses.
Metafictional Play
- Beerbohm blurs the line between truth and fiction within the story itself. Laider is a fictional character who analyzes his own fictionalizing, making the reader question how much of any narrative is "true."
The Tragicomedy of the Artist
- Laider can be read as a stand-in for the artist—someone whose imagination is both a gift and a curse. His lies are like failed art: compelling but ultimately hollow because they lack truth.
- Beerbohm, a caricaturist and satirist, may be poking fun at his own tendency to exaggerate for effect.
Close Reading of Key Lines
"Influenza... fastens unerringly on one's weakest point."
- The personification of influenza as a predatory force suggests that Laider’s lies are not entirely his fault—they are a symptom of weakness, like an illness.
"My will keeps it in check by constant nagging."
- The word "nagging" is humorous and domestic, as if his will is a scolding wife trying to control a wayward husband (his imagination).
"I tell myself the most preposterous fables, and—the trouble is—I can’t help telling them to my friends."
- The dash ("—the trouble is—") mimics the hesitant, confessional tone of someone admitting a shameful habit.
- "Preposterous fables" is almost oxymoronic—fables are supposed to have moral truth, but his are nonsensical.
"I saw myself as a man with a terribly good reason for NOT scoffing; and in a flash I saw the terribly good reason."
- This is the moment of invention. His imagination doesn’t just make up a story—it retroactively justifies why the story should exist.
- The repetition of "terribly good reason" is mock-solemn, emphasizing how seriously he takes his own lies.
Conclusion: Why This Passage Matters
This excerpt is a microcosm of Beerbohm’s genius—it’s funny, psychologically astute, and layered with meaning. Laider is both a comic figure (a man who lies about palmistry) and a tragic one (a man who cannot escape his own mind). The passage explores:
- The fragility of self-control,
- The performative nature of identity,
- The blurry line between truth and fiction in storytelling.
Beerbohm doesn’t just tell us about Laider’s lies—he enacts them, making the reader experience the seductive, unsettling power of narrative. In the end, we’re left wondering: How much of what we believe is just a story we’ve told ourselves?