My problem with the grand traditional novel—or rather traditional narrative in general, short stories included—is the vision of character, the constant reinforcement of a fictional selfhood that accumulates meaning through suffering and the overcoming of suffering. At once a palace built of words and a trajectory propelled by syntax, the self connects effortlessly with the past and launches bravely into the future. Challenged, perhaps thwarted by circumstance, it nevertheless survives, with its harvest of bittersweet consolation, and newly acquired knowledge.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Chronicle of dissatisfaction …
… Trapped Inside the Novel by Tim Parks | NYRblog | The New York Review of Books. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
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What? A novel isn't a true-life experience? A novel is as artificial as a painting or a dance? Bad novel, bad! Sit, novel, sit!
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