The other book I ordered from Folio along with Notes from a Small Island was yet another classic on the cusp from a contemporary writer. Paul Auster’s New York Trilogy is another beautifully produced edition, but it didn’t, in my opinion, live up to its promise.
The problem here is the content of the book. No matter how perfect the binding or evocative the illustrations, it’s hard to turn an exercise in experimental fiction into a good read. Even worse, this book is saddled by the yoke of postmodernism…
So, of course, the critics loved it, lauded the way it plays with the tropes of detective fiction, and basked in its empty nihilism and lack of definition. After all, we were in the throes of destroying all that had come before and exposing the falseness of underlying assumptions.
And I guess in that, they were correct. As a piece of postmodern art, this one could be a hell of a lot worse. By using the structure of a detective novel, at least it doesn’t descend into complete navel gazing, as there are actually things going on, even if they aren’t quite as entertaining as the things that go on in real detective novels, and if the ending isn’t as satisfying as they are in, say, a good noir book.
Perhaps that’s what hit me the hardest on this one. I’m going through a phase where I’m enjoying noir enormously, and I feel that an author of Auster’s caliber (even here, it’s obvious that the man can write, if he had so chosen) could have done something truly special with the form.
But no… postmodern sensibilities won out.
I often wonder if anything postmodern will be part of the canon in a few years time, or if it will all be consigned to the rubbish bin of history like the dead end it is. Perhaps a few pieces of postmodernism will survive, in the same way that a few bits of modernism have reached us as illustrations of their particular form. Perhaps Folio is right and Auster’s trilogy is one of those pieces that will represent the movement going forward.
But I doubt that much else will last. Cynicism and irony are great if savage and loaded, not when they replace a shrug and a sigh. The postmodernists are not as jaded as they want to make us believe… and it shows int heir weak output.
Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist and short story writer. His novel Outside explores posthumanism without attempting to be too optimistic or too pessimistic about it. But realism can be quite shocking, too.