The Sacred Fount (published in 1901) - A strange book, written by Henry James

Henry James was one of the greatest literary figures of the 19th century and his works are considered mini masterpieces of the time. He was born in New York City into a wealthy and intellectual family. Young James was tutored in the many learning centers of Europe and also studied at the Harvard Law School for some time. But he liked his literary pursuits to the study of law. James preferred living in Europe than in America and even renounced his American Citizenship for its refusal to enter in to World War I. He was a regular contributor to literary magazines and started his first novel “Watch and Ward” in his early twenties. His masterpieces like “Daisy Miller” and “Portrait of a Lady” quickly followed. His protagonist are complex individuals battling personal and provincial prejudices and many a time bring about the complexities of American and European lives. Henry James died at the age of 65 and his ashes are interred at Cambridge, Massachusetts.
The Sacred Fount is a theory espousing, jargon filled book by Henry James which may be incomprehensible for many. At least it was for me and to put the book down after twenty five odd pages was a real temptation. The whole book coils and uncoils like a huge python which has just eaten and just cannot do anything else. It smells the air just to satisfy the curiosity and lies down listlessly again. Even the staunchest of Henry James's fans would not be able to digest this humongous waste of paper which ultimately amounts to nothing.



The novel starts with an unnamed narrator getting on the train to Newsmarch to immerse himself in his social circle for the weekend. Many critics point out that the narrator is Henry James himself and sometimes I am not surprised. To be going to your brilliant circle who do not have much to do, but to eavesdrop on idle sexual gossip sounds to be a good time for an author. Anyways the narrator espouses a new theory that he can divine the love lives of his fellows with out any detective work, just by observation and knowledge, phew!!!!. So to prove his theory he spies on poor Gilbert Long who seems to be radiating vitality unlike his earlier avatars. So he feels that Long might be channeling some sexual energy from a poor lover like a vampire-- so the vampire theory of attraction comes to being.
He spots Mrs. Brissenden who is looking 10 years younger than her haggard earlier self. Again the vampire theory comes to the fore – that the sacred fount of sexual energy is tapped from some poor soul. He sees a lady May server looking listless and immediately deduces that she is Long's lover. Soon at the party he espouses his theory to everyone, especially a Ford Obert, about who is giving whose energy etc etc. I think it is a miracle that Ford Obert survived the weekend at Newsmarch or worse the narrator escaped from him.
So these tedious discourses do mercifully come to an end when he has a midnight encounter with Mrs. Briss, who tells him to can his bottle of worms. She essentially terms his theories utter rubbish, which is evident for the readers and tells him point blank that he is crazy. The narrator is left overwhelmed and the readers put to their hands together for the dear Mrs. Briss. If you love the inexplicable, immeasurable, unknowable and crazy arguments, this book is for you. If you are a sane, good chap you can really do with out it.