captain's log

This 1295 page omnibus has sat on the ledge beside the bed at Grace’s apartment for, probably, more than a year. I didn’t bring it there because I planned to read it imminently; rather, I brought it over “just in case.” In case there was some occasion when I wished to read it. In case I forgot to bring over some other book I was actively reading.

As unlikely as “some occasion when I wished to read it” must have seemed, it presented recently. Funny, when I reached for the book I found that it was not there. Grace relocated it.

Maybe she sensed in order for me to desire (to read) that book, it needed to be less available. (Or, and more likely, its state of disuse bothered her and she wanted it out of sight.)

In any case, a couple weeks have passed and I am one hundred or so pages into it. Admittedly, I am not the biggest fan. Often my sense is that Gore Vidal wrote exclusively for himself. He is his audience. As such, I often feel more like I am eavesdropping on a man’s private thoughts, less like I am reading an editorial prepared for a magazine (the original sources of many of these essays).

How can I better describe that impression?

For example, he states opinions as if they were facts, and often does not provide much rationale. As a result, the opinions seem empty; he doesn’t seem creditable. Like so many of the “smart talkers” I work with, whose ethos can go up in smoke if required to think much extemporaneously.

That quality didn’t come as a complete surprise to me, although it is a disappointment. Gore Vidal was known to have a Walt Whitman sort of admiration for himself. My most recent reminder of the fact was a great documentary called Best of Enemies, about Vidal relationship’s with William F. Buckley (more about that here – very worthwhile!).

I have read a few of Gore Vidal’s fiction books. I recall liking Burr some, really liking Duluth (really weird) and Kalki, not liking The City and The Pillar at all, and not liking Live From Golgotha much. No previous experience reading his non-fiction.

I find that there are 2 “modes” of Vidal I like: (1) his biting critiques that are substantiated and (2) his thoughtful expositions. (Unfortunately, I have encountered many biting critiques that are not substantiated and many expositions that do not seem thoughtful.)

Here are a couple examples of “mode 1”:

The Theory of The Novel: New Essays, edited by John Halperin. The two articles arouse suspicion. The theory? The novel? Since there is no such thing as the novel, how can there be a single theory? Or is the editor some sort of monist? Blinkered hedgehog in wild fox country.

This is just the beginning (literally – this is how The Hacks of Academe begins). Halperin, and “Halperin types” more generally (i.e. “hacks”), are skewered in the essay.

Another amusing instance where Gore Vidal uses [some other hack]’s own words to make them sound foolish:

our guide sums up: “As my definition of it clearly implies, exposition is a time problem par excellence.” (Instructor’s note: Transpose “it” and “exposition.”)

(In the aforementioned Vidal v. Buckley documentary, some of Vidal’s best moments were quick ripostes based on quick dissections of Buckley’s own words.)

(Thinking back to that documentary – I think it was last Decemember when I watched it, so pardon fuzzy recollection – I was struck by narrator’s mention that Gore Vidal prepared ad libs for use against Buckley. Like freestyle rappers who prepared many many verses independently and invoke them when appropriate, Vidal would prepare utterances he could pass off as impromptu. So fascinating.)

Anyway, I am writing from my home now, thus I do not have the book at my disposal (still keeping it at Grace’s just in case). So I cannot dig into the source much more. (I took pictures of the quotes passages with my phone, hence the limited direct quotation.) I’ll just briefly mention two essays I particularly enjoyed. The first is French Letters: Theories of The New Novel, a thoughtful exposition on the theories of Robbe-Grillet, Sarraute and others, and the second is American Plastic: The Matter of Fiction, specifically the passages on Barthes and Barthelme.

Vidal left me especially fascinated with Barthelme – Perhaps a future post after I have read his primary sources.

 

I received some awful news today. Writing would be therapeutic to some, but not I. This entry serves only to memorialize that fact, not the details that would substantiate it. For now.

Some time in the future I may add some annotations.

For now I’ll just paraphrase (or directly quote) from Updike’s Three Talks On American Masters – specifically, the section on Melville which I found to be particularly heartfelt, wherein his “withdrawal” from writing is discussed.

The “hypothesis” I derive from it (I do not think Updike intended to hypothesize much): simply put, Melville’s successes (Typee, Moby), then subsequent failures (Pierre), complicated his interest in writing.

Pierre was an attempt at “popular” literature. It was not popular; it was lampooned. My impression is, in the course of things, he lost interest. Or he wanted to lose interest, in writing.

What I feel most moved to write, that is banned,-it will not pay. Yet, altogether, write the other way I cannot. So the product is a final hash, and all my books are botches.

Was Pierre really what he “[felt] most moved to write”? Or, was it some sort of compromise-because he knew what he most wanted to write would be banned, or wouldn’t pay? In any case, the public received Pierre badly-but instead of consider Pierre bad, Melville considered the public out of touch.

Based on the Updike piece-and here it makes sense to say, explicitly, I have not read all of the Melville titles I mention-it sounds like Pierre is, among all of Melville’s works, least like Melville’s works. (For one, it features female roles!)

(Or, maybe this is me projecting.)

Updike says this of his reflection on Melville:

[it] left me with a sense the Melville was right to withdraw, when he did,  from a battle that had become a losing battle. His rapport had been broken with an audience that cared about him chiefly as “the man who had lived among the cannibals.”

(A man who no longer seemed to be that same man, he implies.)

Skimming over this post (should I post, should I leave as draft?), I notice my use of quotation marks here and there where they may not be entirely necessary, although i think they serve to convey things a certain way I intend (see “hypothesis” and “withdrawal”). It reminds me of another short piece in Hugging the Shore called A Mild ‘Complaint’ wherein Updike lambastes a subset of commentators on Henry James (you know, that subset) for their overuse of quotation marks.

Very “amusing.”