Gustav Meyrink's first novel, "The Golem," is without a doubt his masterwork. Certainly it presents his central concerns and the mystical pattern for his later writing, but even more, the literary elements of "The Golem" carry a double measure of inspiration. Perhaps the most obvious is the hypnagogia (the state of consciousness between waking and sleeping) through which the narrator drifts in the first three chapters. Such surreal episodes are not uncommon in fiction, but often even the most earnest attempts fail. Meyrink, however, telegraphs the thrill of this state as only a genuine mystic could. His narrative floats tangentially from one idea to the next, travelling in a rough spiral, lingering at times in the natural orbit of certain images and thoughts. It is only upon finishing the novel that one realizes how these chapters establish not only the mood of the story, but also its themes and plot.
The golem itself--a creature whose legend is rooted in Prague's Ghetto, the depressed Jewish quarter--has a special magic. Though the golem might easily have been portrayed with an uninspired knockoff of Frankenstein's monster, Meyrink made it a spiritual creature (a prototype for similar entities in his later work). In fact, the golem seems to exist solely in the realm of possibility, a thing of story, memory, and confused dreams.
The novel's narrator, Pernath, is a fractured personality whose inner turmoil manifests in his strong attraction to three different women and in his literal amnesia--his memory extends only a few years back, to the time since he came to live in the Ghetto. The golem appears to him in private as an enigmatic angel of mercy who hints at a possible healing, while insinuating itself at the same time into Pernath's mind like a spectral parasite. Though their contact is always indirect, Pernath begins to identify in an odd way with the golem. In fact, the one time that a public sighting of the golem stirs the Ghetto, it is actually Pernath who has been mistaken for the creature.
A less striking but equally significant element of the story is the character of Aaron Wassertrum, the Jewish junkdealer whose shop lies on the street below Pernath's room. Possibly Meyrink's most well-drawn villain, essentially an ethical sinkhole, Wassertrum is the perfect foil for Pernath. His furtive malice, consisting largely of absurd lies and meticulous manipulation, is strikingly reminiscent of Kafka, Meyrink's contemporary.
The careful reader can also explore "The Golem" with the source material in mind and find an additional layer to the story. For example, the Jewish legends sometimes describe the golem coming to life when a rabbi writes the name of God on its forehead. Meyrink relates another version in which a magic charm is "placed behind it's teeth." However, in another twist of confused identity, one character in the novel learns that he has switch hats with someone during the day and finds Pernath's name in the hat's lining, possibly just where it may have pressed against the forehead. This event is followed directly by the golem's first appearance.
"The Golem" is certainly one of the great neglected novels of our time. Meyrink's mysticism is always balanced with a portion of skepticism, giving his worldview a tension which holds valuable insight about the time in which he lived. The novel also depicts the intense sort of claustrophobia which grew out of the early industrial era, and the tone of this anxiety draws natural associations with Poe, Dickens, and Dostoyevsky. The fact that Meyrink managed to integrate these qualities with a refined arc of mystical thought demonstrates just important he is to the literary tradition.
Finally, I highly recommend the Dover edition of "The Golem," translated by Madge Pemberton. While Meyrink readers owe an immense debt to Dedalus/Ariadne and translator Mike Mitchell for giving us, over the past decade, Meyrink's four other novels previously unavailable in English, Pemberton's 1928 translation of this novel is a finer read. Mitchell may be an excellent translator, and I am sure his modernization of the text has its own importance. However, Pemberton has an eloquence unmatched by the new translation. Take, for instance, this line from Pemberton, describing a dream image: "...she wore a cloak made all of flowing tears." Mitchell's translation reads: "...she was wearing a cloak of flowing teardrops." The Dover edition, with Pemberton's translation, also includes supplementary material including 8 superb illustrations from the original 1915 edition and an excellent introduction by the editor, E. F. Bleiler, which serves as a fine summary of Meyrink's life and work.