Abstract:
My thesis aims to assess the novels of Colin Wilson according to his own very high standards as outlined in his theory of Existential Literary Criticism. After his early books created a huge impact, most critics ceased to take Wilson seriously, and the work of this prolific novelist has seldom been closely considered in a way that does justice to its breadth and depth.
Despite, the serious and ambitious nature of his fiction, Wilson ultimately fails to achieve his goal of demonstrating to the reader how to achieve the states of heightened consciousness that are his prime driving force. Indeed the reader may begin to suspect, after reading through his novels consecutively, that the new vistas he talks about will n-ever be clearly revealed. There is a very definite sense of Wilson reaching a plateau in his thinking, after impressive forays upward in the early years.
Despite his brilliant exploration of the limitations of everyday human consciousness, despite his admirable attempts to utilise different fictional genres, despite his varied approach to consciousness-raising (in novels about sexual experience, the occult, murder, the world of the future, and so on), he never gets to the end of his obsession: how does one attain heightened consciousness once and for all?
My thesis also suggests that Wilson writes rather badly in some novels. Traditional notions of plot plausibility, characterisation, and so on are sometimes ignored to the detriment of the 'message' Wilson is trying to convey. Message and technique can not be kept entirely separate, despite his tendency to see them as separable. Wilson, however, is no hack: he also can and does write well.
Wilson remains a writer worthy of considerable study. Why? Because he focuses relentlessly on what to me are the most serious questions of life. He may not answer the questions but he has made a huge effort to do so. He explores a difficult territory that few of his peers even attempt. He is best seen as a Romantic visionary a Romantic Reasoner, a Romantic Critic, immersed in his own experience of fleeting moments of consciousness, relying on his own intuition and subjective selectivity.
Despite his failure according to his own criteria, he may be words culled from his own 1960 review of Albert Camus's The Possessed: "whatever ultimate criticisms can be levelled at his work, he was better than ninety-nine percent of his contemporaries".