Pfitz (Contemporary English Language Fiction) - Softcover

Andrew Crumey was born in Glasgow in 1961. He read theoretical physics and mathematics at St Andrews University and Imperial College in London, before doing post-doctoral research at Leeds University on nonlinear dynamics. His first novel Music, in a Foreign Language (1994) was awarded The Saltire Best First Book Prize. His second novel Pfitz (1995) was one of the books of the year for The Observer and The New York Times. He published D'Alembert's Principle to great acclaim in 1996.

Two centuries ago, a certain Prince sought immortality in a manner unusual even by the standards of his age. Whereas others might choose to fight glorious battles, raise monuments, or pass far-reaching laws, our Prince decided instead to devote himself to a lifelong career as the author of fantastic cities.

It began with Margaretenburg. This cherished work of his early years - the outpouring of a broken-hearted youth - was created and named in honour of the woman to whom he had been betrothed, until smallpox robbed him of her. The idea came to him as she lay on her death-bed, and within six months of her passing, all of the initial plans had been laid for her memorial. A map of the city had been constructed, displaying the perfect geometry of his conception (his reaction to the meaningless cruelty of the world), and a competition had brought forth architectural designs of the utmost splendour. Every street and building, every park and fountain would be named in memory of the woman he had lost.

Still unsure of the finer details of the proposed city, the Prince ordered a further set of charts which would show individual areas on a larger scale, and he also ordered the rendering of the intended buildings in a series of fine engravings. Landscape painters were brought from all over Europe to make illustrations of the city seen from the surrounding hills (which were themselves already being mapped, by a sub-committee of the cartographical division). At the end of this second stage (which lasted about eighteen months), the Prince felt he had come to know the city of Margaretenburg much better - to the extent that he could visit it now in his imagination, and discuss his walks with his courtiers. Nevertheless there remained many things during these hypothetical visits which were intangible and uncertain (and the Prince would not dream of commissioning any construction over which there hung the slightest uncertainty). How, for example, would the gardens smell? (a horticultural committee was formed). And would the smoke from the houses interfere with the air of the Royal Residence? (a team of eminent scientists was assembled).

This period of consultation went on for another three years. The memory of Margarete still lay heavy in the heart of the Prince, and his determination to carry on with her memorial city was undiminished.