A novel that is written so that it is a struggle to read is meant for a particular, masochistic literary crowd: fans of post-modernism. But while the works of classic post-modern authors, like Flann O’Brien and Jorge Luis Borges, abandoned convention and required readers to plunge headfirst into a metaphysical world, many contemporary authors who merely claim to be post-modern simply thrive off of recycled gimmicks and a cult following based on counter-cultural aesthetics (Palahniuk, I may not be able to pronounce your name, but I’m looking at you).
Mark Z. Danielewski manages to combine the best of both worlds in his novels by appealing to an underground culture while still satisfying audiences whose imaginations thrive on a vast, independent and self-referential world. He stands out as a uniquely refreshing voice in a time where blockbuster novels tend to outshine works of greater literary credibility.
His first novel, House of Leaves, which debuted in 2000, was wildly popular for its innovative use of style and formatting—he weaves together several narratives with multiple typefaces, colored text, and extensive, rambling footnotes—but some see its uniqueness as its downfall. Unfortunately Danielewski’s experiments with unique literature do sometimes stray into the territory of unreadable literature, as was the case with Only Revolutions. Hopefully he’ll show more restraint with his upcoming five-volume work (which is part of a project he says will be 27 volumes in total), The Familiar, which was announced last week. The author has revealed little about the plot other than it revolves around his infatuation with cats.
The proposed scope of The Familiar would seem daunting had Danielewski not proven himself so competent with House of Leaves. It is a text with the appeal of a Finnegan’s Wake or a Gravity’s Rainbow; it carries the weight of an epic and has already garnered a remarkable amount of literary criticism. But the novel doesn’t just force itself its way into the spotlight of academic critics by lending itself to philosophical interpretations. It is, by itself, a quite enjoyable satire of academic criticism.
As simply as possible, the story follows tattoo-apprentice Johnny Truant through a reading of an academic study written by a man named Zampanò on the topic of a documentary film titled The Navidson Record, though the film and many of the footnotes and references within the academic study do not exist in either Truant’s or the reader’s world.
Zampanò’s study is rife with allusions to deconstructionist, feminist, post-structuralist, and Freudian criticisms, and this critique of the text within the text offers readers numerous ways to analyze the work as a whole. Post-modern literature has always been somewhat self-referential, but never to this degree; a literary puzzle with all the necessary pieces in place.
Danielewski’s ergodic style of writing in House of Leaves leads readers on a wild goose chase for something concrete to hold onto. A read-through of this 700 page epic is fraught with difficulty, often leading readers to either dedicate an endless amount of time to understanding it, or to give up and mock the impossibility of its potency. While this may not quite deserve the acclaim of the classics just yet, this novel is sure to open up to an endless discussion of possible readings, and all from a debut novel (albeit, one 10 years in the making). As long as he avoids the downward spiral of valuing gimmick over substance, as he did in Only Revolutions, we should have great things to look forward to from Danielewski in the future.
Untangle Jim’s complicated narrative at jmcgrory@georgetownvoice.com
