I suppose it must be me: I can’t agree with all the hype and overblown praise I’ve seen for this piece of puerile meandering.
This review is based on a partial reading of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man because I really couldn’t force myself to read more than the first 25 pages (and page 99, to see if it had improved). I decided there were better things to do with my life than spend any more time on it. In spite of its literary reputation, this was not a book I cared to read to its conclusion.
Obviously the ‘stream of consciousness’ approach removes any prospect of plot, structure, story or timeframe. However, the sheer banality of these early pages, the repetitions, use of simple language mixed with unexplained Irish terms without meaning for this reader, and simple failure to care about what the reader wants from a book made this a piece of work I was not prepared to waste more time ‘discovering’. I found it impossible to sympathise, let alone empathise, with the viewpoint character.
Whilst I have no doubt that it was startling in its originality at the time of first publication, such novelty alone is insufficient incentive to attract my time and effort when the rewards are so few.
Touted variously as a poet and great novelist, Joyce is perhaps the victim of the inability of the critics to tell the truth when they come across something they feel they should admire but which they do not really understand. To inflate a reputation beyond the point where the work can sustain such opinion does no favours to its creator.
I would liken this novel to the much lauded works of artists such as Jackson Pollock and Damien Hirst. Pollock’s infantile dribbling of random colours onto canvass and Hirst’s presentation of anatomical specimens in preservative as works of art do nothing for art beyond decreasing its credibility with the general audience. The critics, those commentators who generally lack the ability to create for themselves, elevate such works to greatness, initially from a desire to be heard above the crowd and thought erudite. Once such opinions of worth and value have been attached to art works, of any sort, it becomes the critics’ job to ensure they remain there. Otherwise, the critics’ reputations are damaged when the truth is told. Failure to follow the lead in such matters is seen as a betrayal of the trade and any outspoken observations are quickly suppressed, trashed or vilified so that the initial opinion, no matter how flawed and mistaken, becomes accepted as mainstream and valid. In fact, the critics’ views take on the mantle of ‘gospel truth’ and become almost impossible to deny.
Image via WikipediaSo, when I describe this book as puerile, uninteresting drivel, my words will be taken as heresy and consigned to the bin of ill-informed, unworthy or malicious gossip, much as the religious bigot would condemn the rational historian for pointing out the multitude of inconsistencies that pepper all so-called Holy texts.Nevertheless, I will label this work a piece of undeserving experimentation that doubtlessly pleased the immature mind that created it and that fooled readers and critics all too willing to find substance and worth in the Emperor’s new clothes no matter how nakedly he continues to travel the world.
12 comments:
I am not a critic nor do I have a reputation as a critical scholar to maintain. I am simply a lover of literature and an author myself and I read all kind of genres. I totally disagree with your opinion on The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Not only was it a revolutionary work of art at the time but it still is an excellent book. I love Joyce's play with language, his leaps in time, and his stream of consciousness. But hey, literary tastes are diverse and we can all agree to disagree once in while. By the way, not all critics are failed creators (although some may very well be just that).
Cheers,
Christa
Thanks for your comment, Christa - perhaps I should have qualified 'critics' to single out those who earn their living exclusively that way - in all fields.
As I said at the beginning, it is probably me. And it's good that we all have our opinions and can freely express them.
Hi Stuart,
No, it's not just you. A lot of readers and authors dislike James Joyce for his lack of plot and his admittedly often confusing and difficult writing. And, to be honest, I never made it past the first 50 pages of Ulysses. I do love his short stories in Dubliners and his novel The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. There is a mixture of experimental writing and story telling at the same time, which makes it enjoyable (at least for me). Authors such as Joyce or Virginia Woolf or many of the Latin American or European experimental writers bring something important to literature. For instance, everyday speech, slang, the workings of the mind (as a result of the rise of psychoanalysis), those leaps of consciousness, which are common features in contemporary literature, including in plot-driven novels, wouldn't have been possible before Joyce and others like him started experimenting with the written word. Like most pioneers in any field, they may not have been entirely successful in their endeavor, but they keep literature alive and open up new possibilities. You can't just repeat the same thing over and over again. That would be boring. Besides, then we wouldn't have anything to discuss and argue about!
Cheers,
Christa
I'm not convinced we need 'experimental' writing, or indeed any form of experimental art for public consumption to progress. Interior monologue, slang and everyday speech has been included in novels almost since the genre began. Most experimental work is self-indulgent (in all fields of creative expression) and does little to either educate the audience or advance the cause of the medium. Pioneering work of this kind is, in my opinion, best left to the inner circle to discuss and consider as a way of determining its worth. I feel that inflicting it on the wider public actually does harm to the medium in the eyes of those who are most important, i.e. the audience.
And, I absolutely agree with you about the stimulus of argument and debate as a means of maintaining freshness. I just don't think it's something we should expect the general public to pay for or endure. We all experiment, don't we? I know I do. But I keep such work for either self-analysis or for discussion with other practitioners, rather than inflict it on my readers.
Shouldn't we leave it up to the reader to decide what he or she likes? There is room for all kinds of writing, experimental or not. There are people who enjoy the unusual, the off-the-beaten-track stuff. There is an audience out there for that kind of art, otherwise it wouldn't be successful at all. It may just be a niche audience, but it does exist.
Nobody forces anybody to read books or watch movies or look at art they don't like. But people have different tastes and art means different things to different people. I don't see the need for some "higher authority" to educate the "general public," and I'm talking about adults here.
With books, there is a blurb, a synopsis, reviews. You can easily familiarize yourself with the type of book you buy before spending the money.
Christa
Of course, Christa, the reader is king. My problem is with the academic and literary criticism worlds that sneer at anything remotely 'popular' whilst hyping the obscure, obtuse and offbeat as if this is all that matters. In all the fields of art there are fashions and trends, which are mostly promoted by professional critics and/or academics. My beef is with their narrow view of what is 'good'. It equates with the wine snobs' views but goes further because it tends to belittle the popular view as being without thought or depth.
The vast majority of people seek entertainment from their art. I have no problem with people choosing the obscure, but it is so often lauded as being of more worth and it is that attitude I am trying to counter.
It is the fact that these critics and academics set themselves up as arbiters of taste, as 'authorities' who seek to educate the general public that I am pointing out here. Yes, people can gain an impression of a book from the blurb, but if that information is influenced by the comments of a 'respected commentator' a lot of people can be unduly influenced.
I accept that this happens in the field of best sellers as much as it does in the more abstruse areas of work. And, I don't consider my opinion any more valid than that of any other reader or observer. In this review, as in all others I have written, I express my point of view. It isn't my intention to insult or denigrate other commentators, but I do feel strongly that much that is written about the more obscure works of creation suffers from the 'emperor's new clothes' form of blindness and is driven by peer pressure and a fear of stepping out of line. I don't think this produces honest reviews or does anyone much good in the long run.
My attitude to a lot of contemporary art and writing will be considered traditional and old fashioned by many, but I prefer to see it as simply honest.
Of course, I would not entertain the idea of banning books like the one that started this conversation, but I would question the reputation given this and many other works in a similar vein. It is that reputation - undeserved in my view - that I wish to counter.
I hoped that this review would stimulate debate, but, so far, Christa, you're the only one who has engaged me. I thank you for that stimulus.
I hear your and yes, I agree, some of those "academics" can be quite arrogant, thinking they are the true and only gatekeepers to great literature (like some of the traditional publishers). I think things are changing though with all kinds of authors having more choices and opportunities to publish their work independently (which I have done with my debut novel).
I enjoy a wide variety of literature, from the popular to the more obscure. There are great works in each genre and less successful ones. And it's great to have all these book blogs, such as yours, where we can exchange ideas, discover new authors, and just have a good time.
Christa
Ah, the self-publishing route - a journey I have also taken, so frustrated with the conventional publishing houses and their apparent fixation with mindless celebrity. It's a field full of opportunity but prone to overcrowding by those who shouldn't have bothered. The buyers, however, usually consign the illiterate to the bin of neglect.
Yes, I agree, times are changing. There is a great move toward a more 'democratic' literary world. The odd thing is that it is that aspect that is most subject to the sort of deterioration of standards that my argument was initially against. So, I fear for the future quality of literature at the same time as I deplore the past attitude to it. Some middle ground would be great, and we seem to have come to the sort of civilised accommodation which would permit such agreement.
I've enjoyed our debate, and learned something along the way; thank you for that.
If you'd like to take advantage of my offer of an interview to publicise your book, Christa, please have a look at the October entry titled 'An Invitation to published authors...' Follow the guidelines and contact me.
Hi Stuart,
I, too, enjoyed our debate and I have similar concerns about the future of literature and also the tough road ahead for us "independents." But I'm in general an optimistic person and I enjoy all the excitement and even uncertainties all this creates.
Thanks for your offer for an interview. I would love to take advantage of it. I'll look at the post and let you know.
Have a good weekend.
Christa
Great. I'll look forward to including you here soon.
I was forced to read this book in high school and, honestly, cannot remember what the hell it was about, mostly because I couldn't even figure it out at the time.
I can deal with a little stream-of-consciousness, but the non-stream portion of it didn't add any clarity or meaning for me.
My big surprise in that class was discovering that I liked Wuthering Heights, a book I was prepared to detest. I was part of that "romances are sappy" crowd. Go figure.
I'm not surprised you can't remember, Sarah. I found it so boring, it left only the impression of its banality on me. Wuthering Heights, of course, is a classic that deserves the title, even if it is a little overblown in the way of that period of literature.
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