1. I think the structure of the novel stands out the most to me, so I’ll deal with that first. The structure of the narrative works for me, but it's also clear this it will be the biggest complaint people have, the reason some people will not read this novel. The structure ends up being fairly simple, but unexplained. As an unusual structure, not explaining it will alienate readers. That's not to say Saunders should or should not have explained it, just that he limits his potential audience. That’s again not a bad thing—every technique a storyteller uses limits potential audience, even writing it in English. I'm more interested in solidifying a statement about new tactics and structures in general, though I will begin by discussing his specific tactic here.
—I haven't read a book structured like this before. It took me a while to wrap my head around. I remember, around about page fifty, noticing a quote from a book about the period of Lincoln's presidency that I know about. That confirmed what I already thought about the structure. Namely, there are two types of chapters here:
⭘ Some chapters follow the characters Saunders creates or borrows from history. Saunders has them telling the reader what happens in their bardo, this purgatory-esque afterlife before reincarnation or judgment. This invented portion of fantasy literature bases itself upon the historical other chapters.
⭘ The other chapters show what are mostly found text quotes about this period of Lincoln's presidency, the American Civil War, and the death of Willie Lincoln. They are snipped from history books, newspapers, and letters. I say “mostly found text” because I read online that some of the quotes are Saunders’ inventions. They come off like newspaper clippings, constituting their own chapters, which intersperse with the characters’ chapters. It shows the great amount of research done by Saunders, and adds to the context and story.
—Both types of chapters here are very short: a couple of pages at most. And they’re written in short sections, usually a paragraph or two. It looks like a play on the page.
—This structure makes sense. Weird, but simple. However, I was confused for 50-90 pages before it really clicked. Because of the spacing that makes the page look like a play’s script, that's probably more like 20-50 pages of a normal novel. But I believe it will turn some people off. It requires the reader trust the author and keep reading—though all novels do to some extent. This required trust is mitigated by that brilliant opening, which drew me in like crazy. In the beginning, Saunders lets the characters introduce themselves by introducing themselves to Willie, and this as a character-building technique is cliche for a reason—when it works, like it does here, the reader can’t put the book down because there are already so many balls in the air right off the bat. I read this book in a little over twenty-four hours. The contradictions and conflicts are apparent at the start, and Saunders lays out that there are multiple narrators, and all are partially unreliable. The found text chapters are usually a nice rest from the craziness of the characters, pauses in the insanity of the fantasy plot, an anchor for the reader to touch that helps drive the plot and introduce new acts into the characters’ story; while the character chapters get crazier and crazier until a war in the afterlife essentially gets going.
—So, the question is, does this structure read like new for the sake of new? I ended up liking the novel a lot. But in order to recommend it to friends, I almost feel like it has to be paired with a warning about the structure. While somebody like me may be into experimental writing in general, and respond to this book positively, if it doesn't work for more people than just Literature Nerds, does it really work? The first to do something isn't always the genius, but the first to do something well is the person the world remembers. Or is a new idea inherently good, even if the execution doesn't quite work out? Is there a difference in the answer to this question between Literature Nerds and people who casually read things that sometimes include literary fiction?
—I think the answer lies in the specifics of the book: yes, it works; and because it works so well, I can't say it's new for the sake of new. Saunders pulls it off. He may be the first to do this, and his both feet in the deep end approach to this structure will alienate readers. But that's fine. It means that for some people, like my spouse, they will not even attempt to read this book. And it seems clear from the response that this novel will be in the jurisdiction of Literature Nerds. But that's no different than Naguib Mahfouz, no different than Dante today, no different than Denis Johnson. And that's some good company to be in, by my book.
Only then (nearly out the door, so to speak) did I realize how unspeakably beautiful all of this was, how precisely engineered for our pleasure, and saw that I was on the brink of squandering a wondrous gift, the gift of being allowed, every day, to wander this vast sensual paradise, this grand marketplace lovingly stocked with every sublime thing.
2. And those characters are superb. They're humans as they really are, without masks. Which is slightly odd, coming from an author I already like who typically does such a great job showing how peoples’ masks interact in oddly funny ways. But here, he uses their own words to damn them. They are solely built through telling; and in telling us things, Saunders lets them talk. Rather than staying focused and moving along, the novel is full of eddies in the narrative current, backtracking up tributaries, and switching back and forth between the characters’ stream and the stream of the historical notes. It feels like an Erroll Morris interview, where the interviewed gets nervous at the silence and then just keeps talking.
He came out of nothingness, took form, was loved, was always bound to return to nothingness. Only I did not think it would be so soon. Or that he would precede us. Two passing temporarinesses developed feelings for one another. Two puffs of smoke became mutually fond. I mistook him for a solidity, and now must pay. I am not stable and Mary not stable and the very buildings and monuments here not stable and the greater city not stable and the wide world not stable. All alter, are altering, in every instant. (Are you comforted?) No.
3. The world building is both told and shown. Both types of chapters contribute to the fantasy world that Saunders has built. And considering his chapters are split between showing and telling, the world is built with both, unlike the characters.
Strange, isn't it? To have dedicated one's life to a certain venture, neglecting other aspects of one's life, only to have that venture, in the end, amount to nothing at all, the products of one's labors ultimately forgotten?
4. The writing is something to praise, through and through. The found text never feels forced, or over-long—he clips the best bits out and presents them concisely, but with enough variety that they never grow overly repetitive. At the same time, the characters are a bunch of unique people who are well flushed out. Their dialogue is wonderful. It’s legible, but still retains enough idiosyncrasies that they are distinguishable from the words on the page. His word choices sometimes sing, but Saunders never forces poetry on a character’s voice, rather letting their speech patterns dictate his writing. That's a technique that I appreciate.
When a child is lost there is no end to the self-torment a parent may inflict. When we love, and the object of our love is small, weak, and vulnerable, and has looked to us and us alone for protection; and when such protection, for whatever reason, has failed, what consolation (what justification, what defense) may there possibly be?
5. In all, a spectacular book that may be relegated to the Literary Nerds Only pile. Though the characters and writing and structure all harmonize brilliantly, not much plot happens and it’s a weird structure and it looks like a play on the page. I was asked, "What is that you are reading?" instead of "What book are you reading?" And I think these three traits may mean the book does not see as many readers as it should. I love it, and I hope many, many people read it and share my love, but it may become a cult classic like Lolita before it, or The Circus of Dr. Lao. Great novels, but some explanation might help a potential reader get into them. This is a serious reader’s book, not a casual reader’s book. At the end of the day, the books that are both popular and respected by academics are the ones that will be remembered. I don't think that this book, this meditation on death, will be popular enough, though I think it will be respected enough.
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