2 posts tagged “literature”

Postmodernism is a dead buzzword. Once it migrated its way to prime time, it was cashed in of any real value. Current historians, still in need of defining their own paradoxical nature, use the term to narrate the development of art, culture and philosophy since the end of the Second World War. This is partly due to the fact that it was a growth from, and a response to Modernism.

Modernism spoke to the potential of industrial design, and the possibilities of the future. Postmodernism acknowledges that this potential shall be the ruin of the world. In our haste to build everything, bigger faster, and with more oomph that we brought humanity to the brink of destruction. Modernism was a focus on art becoming a fixture of our lives. Postmodernism decried art for any purpose, and the Warholian nightmare that has alienated everyday people from the art world was born. Galleries are concerned about stars, and statement, while talented artists are turned away as "pastoral."

This idea of rejecting form was not limited to art alone. Literature was turned into its own language. Modernism brought life to novels of dense prose, replete with references and symbols. These seemed to be about making writing much bigger than the simple stories of the past. Stories became about characters and following their inner thoughts, and less about what happens to these characters. Modernist poetry moved toward a similar path, but attempted to redefine the form rather than just expand it. Postmodern writers are more concerned with the idea of fiction. Magical Realism and other genre bending began, and even characters that are self aware of their fictional nature. Poetry smashed out of the rigid form it was born into, and became anything typeset with line breaks. These ideas are starting to wane, and explain why "literary fiction" is such a confused area of publishing. Instead much of literature's attention is going to so-called "genre fiction." There is an exalted view of the pulp fiction that was popular in the early twentieth century.

So what does this all mean? Nothing really. These movements are both stitched together for the sake of historical narrative. There are dissents inside these movements, and they are not concrete. The key difference between the two is that Modernism wanted a utopia, and the Fascists and Stalinist tried to give them one. Of course it wasn't the utopia envisioned. Postmodernism rejects any claim on utopia. The main crime of Postmodernism is its condemnation of the masses. The derision passed upon the common man is sickening. People are stupid and foolish creature, but there aren't any exceptions to this rule. This paradox makes most Postmodernism immediately irrelevant.

The last key difference between the two movements is their destruction. Modernism was blown off the face of the world by German rockets, and American atomic bombs. Postmodernism will just fade away as artists look to reclaim their voice. That is the biggest irony of all, when the fascists sought to silence artists they did so without the law. Artists and Writers simply removed themselves from society and began speaking to each other exclusively. Condemning anything populist or plain spoken, as "for the masses" and this unclean. Postmodernism is dying because we need to speak to each other again. We need to communicate our humanity because the forces of state and corporate power are trying to dehumanize all of us. The Chinese are just simpletons who manufacture our goods. The Americans are greedy pigs who seek to colonize the planet with junk culture. The Europeans seek to keep their heads in the sand. The Russians like to be ruled by dictators. The Japanese are Americans with better manners. The Arabs are dark eyed monsters who seek to rule the world by the Koran. The Africans are savages that can never bring themselves out of poverty. This list goes on. You here this everyday on the news and people believe these things. When the artists and writers shut themselves away, the forces of commerce and politics took control of the world. We have to raise our voices and speak of what humanity can do to save itself, not simply list its crimes and feel self-satisfied.

All Souls

Javier Marias

There are two kinds of writers. Storytellers and painters, and while this may be the first book by Marias that I have read, he is a painter. This novel is a vivid portrait of Oxford, complete with long dissertations on the quality of the book shops.

The central plot seems to become a moot point nearly as it is introduced. The narrator, a stand in for Marias, begins to have an affair with another Professor, who is married to yet another Professor. This incestuous affair seems to be at the heart of the author's need to dissect the gossip, and rumors that fly around the campus.

While the affair seems to be at the center of the plot, it isn't the meat of the novel. This is a painting of Oxford, and gives one a very vivid picture. Marias also plays his hands as a book fetishist. He details long hours looking for aging books by forgotten writers.

Marias can be described as a Lou Reed Author. The average reader will not find much joy between these covers, but the people who do enjoy it will writer books of their own.  

As with Marias I shall return to his central plot. The final chapters of this book all have a heartbreaking quality. It feels so alien in suck a still life portrait. However the affair like all affairs must come to an end. I will hand it to Marias, right down to the last brush stroke, this is genius work.