Monday, February 07, 2005

File 1.03

Conflating hypernovels and "postmodernism" probably ought to be resisted, if only because the latter presumes an a priori concern with theory. Willfully postmodern fiction of a certain type seems locked in an eternal argument, simultaneously abject and condescending, with other literature, and with language -and somewhat etiolated in its deconstructive epiphanies.
G. Indiana, Let it bleed, 204
Haven't discovered any other writer (exception Martin Amis) whose essay prose consistently carries this compact punch, and a knack for the most fitting verb. Hope Indiana's novels will shape up to the expectation.


At 6:42 pm, Blogger Geist said...

N.B. Yes, hopes confirmed. Best discovery this year.


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