Banvard's Folly: Tales of Renowned Obscurity, Famous Anonymity, and Rotten Luck (Hardcover)

by Paul S. Collins (Author)

Editorial Reviews

Amazon.com Review
Sometimes things don't exactly work out. Schemes collapse, experiments fail, luck runs out, or times and tastes simply change. It's a cliché that history is written by winners--but it's important to remember that it's usually written about winners, too. Paul Collins changes that, highlighting the failures, the frauds, and the forgotten in Banvard's Folly.

Most of Collins's starts were famous--or infamous--in their own time. For example, William Henry Ireland forged dozens of documents "by Shakespeare," including the play Vortigern, but was found out by his overenthusiastic use of "Ye Olde Sppellingge." (Oddly enough, William's father refused to believe his son was responsible even after William confessed; William was widely held to have been too stupid to have written such impressive forgeries.) Then there's respected scientist René Blondlot, who fooled himself--as well as most of the scientific community--into believing he had discovered a remarkable new form of radiation, which he named N-Rays. In reality, they were only an optical trick of peripheral vision. The book's namesake, John Banvard, amassed a fortune from his celebrated "Three Mile Painting"--a huge panoramic rendering of the Mississippi River--and then lost his fortune in an unsuccessful attempt to compete with master advertiser and showman P.T. Barnum.

Collins describes these and several other "nobodies and once-were-somebodies" in chatty, often tongue-in-cheek prose (in recounting the story of Jean François Sudre and his musical language, Collins notes "obsessive fans who hear already secret messages in music would not do their mental stability any favors by learning Solresol"). He also includes a handy "for further reading" section, should you have the desire to learn more about, for example, Symmes's theory of concentric spheres, grape propagation, or the medical benefits of blue glass. Funny, thought provoking, and sometimes poignant, Banvard's Folly helps to rescue these lost souls from the ash heap of history. Very highly recommended. --Sunny Delaney

From Publishers Weekly
In this collection, first-time author Collins resurrects from the junk heap of obscurity 13 figures who earned considerable fame and notoriety during their lifetimes. For example, we meet a 19th-century plagiarist so talented he managed to convince the world, not to mention London theater society, of the "discovery" of documents, even plays, penned by Shakespeare. Then there are the inventor of a universal language based on music, the champion of the pneumatic subway system and the father of the Concord grape. Some were crackpots, some were charlatans, some were genuine talents, but almost all of them were forgotten, their endeavors trampled under the heels of time. But these men (and one woman) are a far cry from overlooked Van Goghs or even subjects worthy of an Errol Morris documentary. Collins, a fluent writer who debuted several of these profiles in McSweeney's online journal, fails to make his characters entirely sympathetic or worthy of our attention. Thus we are left with their quirky achievements, or non-achievements as the case may be. And with a pace bogged down in excessive sourcing (as in "A.J. Pleasonton's Blue Light Special") and prose sometimes hard to access, readers may soon find themselves wondering whether these people are worth the rescue. Collins suggests that many of his innovators fell prey to a savage national character trait. He writes, "the only real sin in America is failure. The man or woman of promise who has nothing but excuses to offer at the end of the day these people we do worse than despise. We avert our gaze and excuse ourselves from their presence." Arguable points certainly, but far from absolutes upon which to compose a paean. While Collins's research is commendable and his passion sincere, this admittedly noble effort feels shy of maturation. The association with McSweeney's (read: Dave Eggers) is fertile soil indeed, and one can only hope Collins's next project bears sweeter fruit.

Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

See all Editorial Reviews

Product Details

• Hardcover: 272 pages
• Publisher: Picador; 1st edition (May 11, 2001)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0312268866
• ISBN-13: 978-0312268862
• Product Dimensions: 8.5 x 6.1 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1 pounds
• Average Customer Review: 4.8 out of 5 stars See all reviews (5 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #123,134 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

  Popular in this category: (What's this?)

  #97 in

  Books > Reference > Genealogy

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

9 of 9 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Weird and Wonderful, May 4, 2001

By A Customer

When McSweeney's magazine first ran Paul Collins' work, they printed a sort of reverse disclaimer, saying something like "Paul Collins does not lie. Paul Collins teaches at a Christian college." I thought of this constantly while reading this book, because it veers in and out of (sur)reality. But, although it reads like fiction, it's all apparently true. If I had my way, there would be twice as many illustrations (A couple of the subjects aren't even pictured. Maybe something can be scared up for the paperback). The photograph of Rene Blondlot is too hilarious to be believed. Also, I think some of these characters merit their own books, especially Banvard, Psalmanazzar, and the subway man.

8 of 8 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Fantastic Failures, July 31, 2001

By	R. Hardy "Rob Hardy" (Columbus, Mississippi USA) - See all my reviews (TOP 50 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

We pay plenty of attention to winners in history, but there have to be even more losers out there. Losers who may have been clever, may have been original, may have dreamed the big, impossible dream, and worked hard on their paths to fame and riches, but because of mere fortune, or cupidity, or bad choices, found the path did not lead to success. Failure just is not interesting, or at least most failures are not. But some are, and Paul Collins tells about some amazing ones in _Banvards Folly: Thirteen Tales of Renowned Obscurity, Famous Anonymity, and Rotten Luck_ (Picador). Collins has done good research to bring us these funny true stories and has a dry, sharp style that is a delight.

The title tale is about John Banvard, who in the 1850s was the most famous living painter in the world, and possibly the first millionaire artist in history. Why havent you heard of him before now? Because time swallowed him up. Banvard sailed down the Mississippi and sketched all he saw on the 3,000 mile voyage. He then painted what he had sketched, producing the biggest picture ever, said to be three miles long. The panorama was rolled up, and he displayed it on stage as it rolled by, while he gave narration and was accompanied by piano waltzes he had commissioned. His performance pieces were slow at first, but became a sensation, as he played Boston, New York, and then London, where he impressed the royal family and Charles Dickens. Banvard spent time in London museums, being taught to read hieroglyphics; he then sailed down the Nile to make another panoramic painting. He was troubled with those sincerest flatterers, imitators; he had made a huge fortune, but his invention was so popular that scores of other panoramas were on tour. He decided to set up, instead, as a museum keeper, his huge display of curios in a massive New York building, described as the best museum in Manhattan. In this, he was in competition against P. T. Barnum, who was by far the most capable promoter, and Banvard returned to the frontier where he was once again a poor and unknown painter. A few panels of his many paintings are all that remain of his work.

Here you will find the astonishing story of Englishman William Henry Ireland, born in 1775, who because his father never thought much of his writing, started forging plays by Shakespeare, and created a literary sensation. We read also the sad story of Delia Bacon, who was one of the first lunatics to write profusely on the theory that Shakespeare was not Shakespeare, but was a front for a collaborative effort by Walter Raleigh, Edmund Spenser, and Francis Bacon. A lighter note is the story of Robert Romeo Coates, whose beyond-hammy acting brought down the house, when his Romeo died not once but three times. There is a chapter on Blondlots N-rays, probably the most famous incident described in the book, an incident of scientific self-delusion. There is one on John Cleves Symmes, an Ohioan who did everything he could to convince his countrymen about the holes at the poles of the Earth which would lead to its hollow core. Theres one on A.J. Pleasanton, who shined blue light on everything imaginable and improved it.

And more. Collins has done an amazing amount of research into long-lost books and pamphlets to bring us these astonishing instructive stories and amazing cautionary tales, the sorts of tales that the proverb Truth is stranger than fiction was coined for. He has wry comments within his storytelling which makes reading his words great fun, and the stories are incomparable. Losers were never so fascinating.

8 of 8 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Extraordinary Stories, May 21, 2001

By A Customer

The author brilliantly captures the misery of those who tried, succeeded and then stumbled into oblivion.

Bulls epitaph "HE SOWED,OTHERS REAPED" sums up most of the stories, although greed, a flare for the untruth, and insouciance played a leading role in many of the cases. The ultimate failures of these people is treated with good humor but also with respect and to some of us, it gets a bit too close to home for comfort.

An extraordinary and facinating collection of tales. Beautifully written and obviously researched in great depth.