Postmortemism

The idea of modernism and postmodernism have always fascinated me, to the extent where I have declared myself 'not interested' in reading all of 'the usual classics' (the Brontes, Dickens, y'know...), because they say little to me about my life, whereas the general jankiness of the more recent movements packs a properer punch. Anyway, here we all are, sitting in a rainbow, and then I read this article by Alison Gibbons, saying [postmodernism] is dead (though I guess certain people have been variously saying it was never alive, or died longer ago... Many opinions, I'm sure), but they're not saying it's dead they're just saying that its techniques are being used in different ways, and for different aims. The facets of production, style and whatnot can be the same, but the idea is that, rather than the literature (and the experimentalism) being the point in and of itself, now it is suggested that the helmsperson is steering the authorial ship towards specific issues, racism being an example.

I had a few problems with the article, not least that I've heard this argument for justice before, in some article about the necessity of climate change fiction, but honestly I'm not sure how much I buy it. I'm not convinced on the level of distribution (is fiction read by the people it needs to be? Obviously any one person can be inspired to make a change, but I'm talking 'will it convince Trump to stop being a nob, or will it make old Enid Fairbottom from down the road take her recycling more seriously?' Will most of the liberal folk that need no encouragement to consume literature not already have these views - much like sharing Corbyn memes on Facebook that only your similarly-minded friends see?) and the efficacy of the form itself (do we change our lives because of fiction, or do we feel stimulated, but not act? Do we, in the end, simply feel entertained? Of course that depends on the person (a lazy, narcissistic, anxious arsehole like myself is not moved to change very easily) and the potency of the piece (clearly your Margaret Atwoods are adept at creating narratives that get large swathes of people engaging meaningfully with topics and enjoying/getting freaked out by what she's saying).

Also, I question the labelling of it. I know this was quite a wee article, y'know, not some thesis dissecting millions of examples, but I wondered 'who actually says it's even waning in popularity?' Then I thought, 'you can trust the TLS, surely, they know what they're on about'. Then I thought that labelling something as dying, or whatever, could directly change someone's perceptions, even if there's no evidence. It's sort of like sticking a pube into someone's ice-cream. You made the choice to do it, and even if it's only touching one chocolate chip, the rest of the mint-choc-chip laden cone might well be chucked. Stupid analogy and an over-exaggeration, but, I suppose all I'm saying is, it's weird to call it 'as it's happening'. Feels a bit soon. Gibbons does address this, saying that the situation's "in flux", but if I'm writing a post, and there's a logical contradiction in the reason for writing it, sometimes I just have to say 'bin it'. What's the point in publishing it if you're not confident that there's any point, any benefit?

Though I suppose she's at least created debate. Which is more than I'm doing.

I'm just rambling.

Where's that delete button...

The Gathering - Anne Enright

Just a few thoughts on this novel that really impressed me, the author of which was recommended to me by Ailsa Cox.

A few years ago, the most disturbing book I'd read was Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho. This was striking in a plottish way and, though you might want to argue that contentually  it was gratuitous, I see it as a structural archetype. The alternation between droning, asymptotic capitalism and rampant, relentless 'masculsim' [and it could be argued that it's not much of an alternation] is, well, powerful... provoking. Then I read Conrad Williams' Head Injuries, based on Nicholas Royle's advice. This is a different kettle of fish, bit more supernatural, but I found it even more disturbing. The magical potency of William's descriptions really brought the unreal to life, made me sick with anticipation and imagination [and you might say that it being set in my home town of Morecambe might make it an easier goal, but I believe I can separate my emotional vulnerability from my appraisal of authorial mastery]. Then I read The Gathering.

Enright's use of language is possibly the most disturbing, and potent, I think I've ever read, on many linguistic levels. Whether it's intentionally ambiguous sentences, odd commas, a clunky 'straight pun', jarring descriptions or insertion of song/quote/foreign language or whatever else: the effect at times, on purely language-based grounds, was really disconcerting. I felt it was the duty of all literature, especially of this calibre, to be so unsettling. It also displayed elements of the supernatural, plus a focus on the darkness of life, not just death but certain 'comedies of life' ["...five quid for a brandy in your mourning coffee..."] and the battle between truth, life and memory.

One thing I kept thinking was how great it would be as an example of literature to study. Well, maybe that's not the right thing to say necessarily, but what I mean is that it's such an example of literariness. And I'll be the first to admit that there were certain elements that left me behind in terms of their intellectualism, you know, some of the sentences had me re-read them a few times and still not quite get what was meant. But that's not a bad thing for me. It's the mix of general poeticness, of dialect, of the overall defamiliarization/terror of the words in short or long combinations that makes this novel so powerful, and a couple of 'eh?' moments didn't derail my overall understanding or enjoyment.

There's so many ways I want to praise it, and some of them are so contradictory; its lightness of touch versus its macabre close-up dissection of certain scenes; its narrator - unreliable to the point of admitting how hopeless she is at remembering whilst being so honest as to give us no choice but to like/sympathise/trust; perhaps the best observations of humanity I've ever seen [have NEVER read men written as they are in this book, and again, there's a grimly humorous total truth in her words] mixed with some speculative musings, thereby contrasting assuredness with doubt; some of the realest, most natural feelings, thoughts, reactions mixing with the surreal, the artful and the supernatural [i.e. physically manifested ghosts].

I really was so ravenous when I read it. I chowed down nearly half of it in one go which, for me, is a lot in one sitting. I'm not an entirely 'natural' reader, in the sense I just sit down and easily get through it all. The descriptions of place were enchanting - not quite in the way the Montalbano series is painted in vivid pastel, but more in the slight dourness of an inexperienced tourism office - and I have to give special mention to the way she deals with airports. Ah, just read it to find out what I mean. And the difficulty of ending such a 'journey' is inevitable, yet Enright handles this so well too.

If you've read it, I'd love to know what you think. I know it's won awards, but what do you think? Even as I'm writing about it months after I experienced it first, there's a vibrant lingering. If I wasn't reading other things, I'd be tempted to read it again. Anyway, check it out if you want. It's great.

NaNoPrepMo

'NaNoPrepMo' is a term that the ever enthusiastic and inspirational writer Ava Jae likes to use, and so do I. It essentially means 'October, for those that have decided that they're doing NaNoWriMo'. Here are my current thoughts in PREParation for November's novel writing challenge:

So there's thirty days in November [you may already be aware...] which, if you want to hit the 50,000 word target, gives you a daily aim of 1,667. I was thinking about writing a different 'episode'/chapter every day, i.e. start a new one and, as long as it's natural enough to do so, finish it off on the same day. Obviously not going to limit myself to the wordcount, if I go over, I'll just see where the flow takes me. If I miss a day, of course I'll make up for 'the missing words' [although I suppose I do that every day anyway!]. I won't necessarily start two new episodes the next time, unless that's natural to what I'm doing. I'm not aiming for all the sections to necessarily be the same length, although it'll be interesting to see how 'regular' they are, seeing as how I've never tried such an intensive thing before.

On daily aims, I'll try not to take into account my going over. For example, if I reach 50,000 in two days [yeah, I know...], I'll still try and write 1,667 thereafter, but if I miss a day, I'll try and write 3,334 the next day to make up for it, if that makes sense. It's a 'no upper-limit' mentality, but a firm 'bottom line' [heehee, firm bottom...] will be ever present. I realise that this might amount more than the necessary amount of pressure, but that's what I'm aiming for at the mo.

My idea is a story about a university student  and how his first 'real relationship' changes him. I want to capture the Ham on Rye bull-charge feeling by relentlessly going from scene to scene [well, 'chapter to chapter' is more apt, but the way the chapters were in that novel felt very scene-like], hence why I'd like lots of shorter chapters. However, I won't be going completely linear. I want to experiment with, every now and again, saying 'wait, I forgot about the time that...' and see if that fits the narrative well. I suppose this may be something that will only really be done in editing [certainly it could only be evaluated in the editing process], but that's how this project has come to me, so so be it. I think rather than intentionally trying to do it, I might just see if the availability for such an opportunity naturally arises. I don't know if I'll have 'anchoring passages', i.e. a shared time/place/whatever where the narrator breaks up the progression [assuming there is any!], but again I think I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself, I'll have to see whether these thoughts find their opporunity, or whether they should be added later...

First person. Although, if I start to struggle with events being too close to 'real life' history, I might switch [as Helen Walsh was advised when writing Once Upon a Time in England, so she told us in a talk at Edge Hill], just to help the drafting. I hope I can keep going in the first person vein though, it's so explosive, so vital... And, 'at the end of the day', it's controversial. I don't mean, necessarily, in a social context, but in terms of the reader's individual experience, there are questions that you can have fun with posing [and, indeed, not answering] that, maybe, in third person, you might usually steer clear of.

I love the feel and possibilities of first person tho. A while ago, I turned my back on it because it was my preferred choice, and I was worried I was being 'one-trick pony-ish' and sort of un-literary [not that first person narratives can't be literary, but if an author only had one option, you may feel they weren't developed enough to be considered literary. Maybe... I dunno], so I'd like a chance to revisit it.

Okay, I think that's the flim-flam out the way. Now to come up with some chapter ideas...


And that's indeed what I did, coming up with, at the time of publishing, thirty-three 'chapter ideas'. I don't know what'll become of them all, or which new ones may pop up... I don't really know anything at this point, and it's doubtful whether I'll know any more in time. With that dispiriting finish, I bid you adieu. Good luck if you're NaNoWriMoing and, indeed, good luck if you're not!

Absolute Overspend

But it'll seem much better when I'm enjoying them.

• OULIPO: A Primer of Potential Literature - Warren Motte
• Ten Years in an Open Necked Shirt - John Cooper Clarke
• Three Sequences: 50 (Xerolage) - Bob Cobbing
• Punk Poets Beatniks and Counter Culture Heroes [DVD] - Various
• Penguin Pocket Rhyming Dictionary - Rosalind Fergusson
• Miniatures 1 & 2 [CD] - Various

I'm Not Literary

And it disgusts me...

Yes I'm feeling this, rather than trying to cement my position as a snob. But it's all I have.

I don't know - this isn't even a proper post... I just wonder sometimes why people do things. If you're not literary then you are (based on my limited perceptions) looking for popularity or money. What else?

And what's wrong with that? Nothing. Inherently at least. I have friends who are already making their mark in the world of plottish-series fiction, and doing a good job. But where is the reach out to poetry, the thing that links everything to humanity? Not human interest, but humanity?

I've written pages and pages on single elements within this rubbish post, but I don't think they'll find the light of day. The main thing I want to do is stimulate discussion (or at least thought).

Sorry, this is a poor attempt.

Sorry, goodbye.

Ruth Fowler on Writing Courses and The Orange Prize's Shortfalls

Here is the article from The Huffington Post

thanks Neil