Szyzygy's Blog

September 23, 2009

Huis Clos….

Filed under: LitCrit — syzygy @ 4:38 am
Tags: , , , ,

The problem with modern writing is that it is entirely predictable, and that as consumers we are all too wise to its devices and intricacies. In post-Chekhovian drama, if a gun appears in Scene one, you know implicitly that by Act 3 it will have been used on more than one occasion. Unless it’s by someone like Ms LaPlante or Ms Mickery in which you can fairly safely bet that by Scene 2 the whole cast will be lying in a pool of blood on the carpet, and, one has to add, mutilated beyond parental recognition.

Borges put a full and final stop on the short story. For good measure Ray Carver underlined it. Jimmy Joyce and Flann O’Brien terminated the novel with extreme prejudice as a mode of expression with Finnegan’s Wake and At Swim-Two-Birds respectively.

Even nihilism seems futile, and its vapid shrill-voiced niece, post-modernism, even more so. The slow and creeping decrepitude to which literary endeavour has succumbed is now a vacuum whose absoluteness is almost as complete a cultural void as the mindset of the undiscovered Kaspar Hauser.

The roots and the corollaries of this corrosion were neatly pinned by the now disapppeared Jean Baudrillard throughout a lifetime of social, philosophical and cultural analysis and it is no accident that the character Morpheus in the film The Matrix quotes Baudrillard: “Welcome to the desert of the real”. Baudrillard, never one to miss the Russian doll like qualities of the contemporary media machine, pointed out that The Matrix was exactly the sort of film that the Matrix was capable of making.

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