21st Century Literature discussion

This thread is for discussion of the last part of the book, approximately pp. 150-end.

I'm not really sure where to put this thought, so it's being plunked here. I spent a good part of the book marvelling at the fact that a work of experimental fiction is so involved with fact. I would normally expect subversion of truth or narrative point of view; a questioning of what we would normally take for granted. Markson seems to expect the reader to take all of his facts at face value, to trust that he is telling the truth. As far as I can tell, he is. But it's an odd experience to have literature of this sort revert back to blind acceptance of fact. In a way, it was refreshing to be able to trust the narrator.

I notice you categorize the book as "a work of experimental fiction," not as a novel. I think that's accurate. At p. 46, author quotes D.H. Lawrence, "on a difference between a novel and older poetic epics: In a novel you know there is a water closet on the premises." Much later, as the book winds into its conclusion, at p. 169, the author wonders:
"In a more traditional sort of novel, would it be time here for Author to bring back that obscure, lorn creature performing her ablutions at a toilet bowl? Avec what startling dramatic revelation appended?"

If by that "lorn creature" he means characters, then I would say yes. I like having characters and plot in a book.

When I first starting reading it, it felt less like a novel than a book of interesting facts you'd leave in the guest bathroom next to the toilet. Then about 20 pages in I found a rhythm to his facts and quotes and couldn't put the book down. Is it a novel? There is a character (the author -- he even mentions his children); there is a plot -- the undoing of art and society and the human body; and a beginning, middle and end. Yep, that's a novel. I'm now planning to read some of his other work.

There is a flow to the logic. There is a lot about how to value art, what critics and other artists say about the works of artists and writers, and what artists get paid for their art. There is a comment somewhere to the effect that what matters is what you do, not who you are. There are many physical comparisons (things like height and eye color), between artists and comparing artists to Hitler. There is discussion of the education level of wives of artists and authors. The author himself is a character that seems to develop over the course of the book. But the author is the only character for all but the last page of the book, when we get a cameo appearance by family. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I enjoyed reading it. But I'm still not sure I would call it a novel.

Casceil wrote: "But I'm still not sure I would call it a novel. "

Nor more would I. Which makes me think how do you define a novel?

‘Vanishing Point’ is a fictitious prose narrative, but the only representation of a character (and action!) “with some degree of realism" is slight to say the least...

@Don: Two points. First, I'm going to have to go with everyone else in hesitating to call this a novel. One of Markson's other books is even titled This is Not a Novel, which I think almost points to where he would stand on the issue if he were still alive.

Second, I am completely behind your description of the rhythm being what makes this not-so-much-a-novel book work. I'm not sure that I've ever experienced a book like this before. It read like listening to the waves lapping the cottage dock in the evening while I sit in a deep chair with nothing breaking the stillness except those waves and my thoughts. Perhaps it was the rhythm that made it so mesmerising and tranquil. Regardless, this was a big reason for my enjoyment of the book. It's not what Markson is actually saying, but the fact that he was able to harness a series of themes into a meditation of sorts. The effect was almost hypnotic.

Like you, I will be taking on more of Markson in the near future. I've already made an interlibrary loan request for Wittgenstein’s Mistress, which David Foster Wallace described as "pretty much the high point of experimental fiction in this country" (see http://www.salon.com/1999/04/12/wallace/).

Anyone have any ideas about why the title of the book is "Vanishing Point"?

The author vanishes... ?

Probably. I was wondering if it was supposed to mean something more than that. But I'm not sure what.

I interpreted the title as a reference to the concept in perspective drawing where the 3D lines converge into a focal point. What is the vanishing point of a life? Death is the easy answer, but to me (in terms of this book) it's more about how the strands of life all converge on that one final moment. My 2 cents, anyways...

Daniel, I like that answer. I think you have hit on what the author intended.

Hmm. I agree with Don and fall on the side that it is a novel, for reasons similar to what he stated. That said, I'm perfectly happy with others disagreeing, and I think Markson would have been, too. I also don't think it matters whether Markson thought of it as a novel--though he was clearly inspired by the novel format, at the very least (character, plot, beginning/middle/end as Don said).

And Daniel, I LOVE your description of the title. Even if it is not what the author intended (but I think it probably is, given the heavy focus on art), your way of putting it fits the book so neatly: how the strands of life all converge on that one final moment...

Daniel wrote: "Markson seems to expect the reader to take all of his facts at face value, to trust that he is telling the truth. As far as I can tell, he is. But it's an odd experience to have literature of this sort revert back to blind acceptance of fact. I"

I felt rather torn about this. I wanted to take him at face value--there were a number of facts in the book I knew independently were correct--but I have such an inherent distrust of the facts in a work of fiction that I felt conflicted by the very action of reading and trying to accept trusting him. I felt this was a brilliant side effect of the work.

Rebecca wrote: "...I'm perfectly happy with others disagreeing, and I think Markson would have been, too."

I think so as well, and that acceptable ambiguity seems to permeate every aspect of this work. I'm probably not normal in this respect, but I enjoy getting the odd book to which you can't quite place a defining finger. It feels ethereal, mesmerizing, ineffable.

As to trusting the narrator, I think you've captured my emotional response as well. And I agree it was was brilliant to toy with our expectations like that.