A review of Postmodern American Fiction: A Norton Anthology,
edited by Paula Geyh, Fred G. Leebron, and Andrew Levy
Originally published in The Minnesota Daily’s A&E Magazine, February 26th, 1998
Just What the Hell is Postmodernism, Anyway?
Edited by Paula Geyh,
Fred G. Leebron, and Andrew Levy
Putnam, $23.95
Although compiling an anthology of postmodern fiction seems antithetical to the
very idea of postmodernism, the folks at Norton have made a bold (if ironic and
cynical) attempt at doing just that—boldness, irony, and cynicism of course
being three prominent markers of postmodernism. Skimming the cream of half a
century of American Postmodernism, as well as including nearly a dozen essays, Postmodern
American Fiction tries to capture an aesthetic that by its very nature
eludes clear definition, as well as purports to canonize works that were
largely written against the idea of the canon. So what we have here is a
canon of the uncanonizable.
Once
you accept the premise that this anthology isn’t an absurd undertaking, the
first thing that proves you wrong is the introduction. Postmodernists generally
rail against any kind of objective authority system—especially those that fade
into the background to become implicit (see Thomas Pynchon’s 1973 novel Gravity’s
Rainbow, where the main antagonist is the sinister and ubiquitous “Them”).
And what does this anthology do? It begins with an introduction without a
byline. As if the anonymous essay were the ultimate lowdown on what
postmodernism is, not even needing to sully itself with a living, breathing
(and biased) author. It’s downright weird.
Aside
from that, it’s actually a pretty handy introduction. I guess we’re supposed to
assume that it’s written by the three editors, Paula Geyh, Fred G. Leebron, and
Andrew Levy, each focusing on his or her area of expertise. And They seem to
cover a lot of the bases. They analyze the impact of the Second World War on
literature and culture, discussing the relationship of so-called postmodernity
(a cultural term) with the emerging group of writers that critics have labeled
the postmodernists (a literary term). Also, They chart some of postmodernism’s
influences in the modernist and avant-garde artistic movements, making a
compelling and informative summary of how postmodernism evolved.
The
most interesting thing in the introduction, however, is the section headed
“Postmodern Fiction and Postmodern Theory,” which reads pretty convincingly but
ends up eroding the book’s entire authority. The discussion of
antifoundationalism begins with the statement, “If any one common thread unites
the diverse artistic and intellectual movements that constitute postmodernism,
it is the questioning of any belief system that claims universality or transcendence.”
Seems pretty accurate, but then when They go on to discuss the impossibility of
objective truth on the part of any kind of foundation, or the veracity of “the
official story,” it’s like saying “this statement is false.” Postmodern critics
are caught in a Catch-22 that nullifies any authoritative statement They could
make. And this volume just accentuates the problem.
Nevertheless,
this is a really fun anthology. They break it down into six sections of
fiction, each one exploring a particular aspect or style that (sometimes) fits
into the postmodern rubric, and one section of essays. The first section,
“Breaking the Frame,” is kicked off, natch, by Thomas Pynchon. It’s kind of a
misleading beginning, however, because while Pynchon is undoubtedly the Big
Kahuna of postmodernism, he’s hardly the first one writing in this style. Which
brings up the anthology’s biggest problem: There’s no William Gaddis. He’s not
even mentioned in any of the sections or in the index at the end. It’s
probably attributable to the fact that They want to make the first selection
(from Pynchon’s 1996 novel The Crying of Lot 49) jibe with Their idea
that literary postmodernism begins in the 1960s. Not True. Gaddis’ 1955 novel The
Recognitions lays the groundwork for almost everything that’s covered in
this anthology’s pages, and on top of that, it out-mind-boggles even Pynchon.
Still,
the selections here are quite good. Including folks like Donald Barthelme,
William Gass, Ishmael Reed, Carole Maso, and Lynn Tillman (Women mostly get
shunted to the end of the section! And, hey, where’s Cynthia Ozick?), They
fairly accurately cover the writers that most challenged conventional narrative
styles and forms. Although They do make the cardinal sin of referring to Gass’
story “In the Heart of the Heart of the Country” as canonical. How
unpostmodern!
The next
section, “Fact Meets Fiction,” seems a bit iffy, despite some fine selections.
It includes William T. Vollmann, the reigning idiot-savant of American letters,
as well as Theresa Cha and Gloria Anzaldua, which are pretty great choices. But
if you want to believe that Truman Capote and Norman Mailer are postmodernists,
I guess that’s your business.
The
“Popular Culture and High Culture Collide” section would be better served by
David Foster Wallace’s wacky “Little Expressionless Animals,” which features
Pat Sajak and Alex Trebek as characters, but it’s still a good representation.
There’s Laurie Anderson (yes, the musician) and Jay Cantor and Lynda Barry
(comic book writers), as well as the obligatory Robert Coover selection.
The
“Revisiting History” and “Revisiting Tradition” sections explore alternative
versions of the past—both historical and literary. The main gripe here is that,
no matter how challenging it is, Toni Morrison’s Beloved is really more
modernist than postmodernist. Other questionable (but artistically great)
inclusions are E.L. Doctorow and Marilynne Robinson, but the John Barth, Kathy
Acker, and David Foster Wallace selections are right on, as are most of the
others.
The
“Technoculture” section might be the most interesting of the lot. Starting
things off with William Gibson and including a big chunk of Don DeLillo’s 1985
novel White Noise, this section explores the looming presence of
technology as both subject and tool of fiction. While White Noise delves
into the utter creepiness of modern technology, the J. Yellowhees Douglas and
Michael Joyce stories embrace it wholeheartedly. Unfortunately, I haven’t read
the latter selections, because they’re hypertext stories posted on Norton’s
website, and my crappy Mackintosh SE isn’t hooked up to anything except the
wall outlet (and look who’s calling other people un-postmodern!).
Despite
the sheer impossibility of its task, Postmodern American Fiction gives
an intriguing overview of what’s been happening in (and to) American literature
in this half of the century. With the “Casebook of Postmodern Theory” rounding
things out, it offers a comprehensive, if problematic, look at the radical
changes in American literature since your professors graduated from college.
Along with Gaddis’ The Recognition, this anthology works as a terrific
supplement to what you learned in your English classes. Buy them both for
yourself as your graduation presents
—David Wiley
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