The Genius by Donald Barthelme

Monet's water lilies.

Here is another decent short-story by Donald Barthelme. Enjoyable for the most part but nothing spectacular; nor does it leave much of an impression. Once again, certain pieces from his early repertoire reveal flashes of what might be deemed as 'genius,' (sorry, I couldn't resist), yet they tend to fall slightly short of expectations, especially when compared to his later, more polished literary output. 

"Genius" is an effective satire of intellectual superiority and celebrity status but ultimately, doesn't really add up to much. The fragmented anecdotes of the protagonist's life are amusing and often quite funny. For example, when an interviewer asks him what the most important tool is for a a genius, he responds nonchalantly: "rubber cement." An unexpected answer but there's also some truth to it and that's what makes it funny. Furthermore, the tangents and rambling philosophical discourse is pure Barthelme. There is one section where the genius pontifications at length about the shape of art, creativity, Monet's water lilies and seahorses. It comes across like the ramblings of a raving lunatic but it is this madness is engendered by the oppressive forces of contemporary society. For the genius and many other artists in Barthelme's work, creativity is an act of resistance. Through the use of satire and irony, it helps to shape a new reality. 

The Only Traffic Signal on the Reservation that Doesn't Flash Red Anymore by Sherman Alexie

Reservation dogs.

It's a very long title but highly effective in conveying the struggles of reservation life: sadness, alienation, stasis, displacement, marginalization, the lack of resources and infrastructure. This is a stellar piece of writing and now I can't wait to read more from Sherman Alexie. He is one of those authors that been on my radar for quite a while and it's a shame that it took me this long to finally get around to reading his work. The combination humor and heartbreak is difficult to pull off but somehow he makes it look it easy. The delicate balance of comedy and  unflinching social realism enhances the emotional impact of the story. Moreover, Alexie's dazzling prose jumps off the page with such ferocity and is such a joy to read. 

Taken from his superb collection of interlinked short-stories called "The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven" (such an awesome title), this particular story is interested in the vicious cycle of generational trauma and addiction. Rather than reinforcing the stereotypes of indigenous people as alcoholics, Alexie uses observational humor to critique the societal attitudes that perpetuate, emphasizing that historical and cultural context matters. Even in moments of tragedy, there is still hope and laughter can sometimes be the best medicine. The humor does not come at the expense of these characters; rather, it humanizes them, adding emotional depth and creating powerful moments of resilience. 

Only Good Ones by Elmore Leonard (1961)

Valdez is Coming.

I am quite fond of Elmore Leonard's dialogue-driven and lean prose that is devoid of any unnecessary exposition. "Only Good Ones" is riveting right from the opening sentence, steadily building tension and suspense towards an explosive finale. He quickly sets the scene and launches directly into the action, allowing readers to gradually fill in the gaps of the story through snappy dialogue and different character interactions. There is a certain authenticity and rhythm to the colloquial speech patterns associated with frontier life, often advancing the plot and revealing character motivations. There are a colorful cast of characters, but no lengthy descriptions or backstory. Each of them is shaded with their own distinctive slang, quirks and and mannerisms. 

The author boldly subverts classic Western archetypes, unraveling the prevalent mythos of the genre. Particularly noteworthy here is highlighting the often forgotten or ignored history of anti-black racism. These Western pulps were designed as thrilling entertainments meant to captivate a broad audience with their high-octane narratives. They were meant to be consumed rapidly before moving on to the next one, like binge-watching a really good television show. Within their pages, one would encounter the familiar archetypes—the noble sheriff, the rugged cowboy, the villainous outlaw, the damsel in distress—typically depicted in straightforward moral terms. However, Leonard's approach to this genre stands apart--more specifically, in their complex themes, characters and moral ambiguity. 

The harrowing portrayal of racism and violence towards black people is a rarity within conventional Western narratives, making this story an anomaly. Beyond its gripping entertainment value, this narrative contains some unexpected depth, particularly in its nuanced handling of racism within the Western genre. Rather than glossing over or romanticizing historical injustices, the story confronts them head-on, offering a thought-provoking exploration of the complexities and consequences of racial prejudice in the Old West. In doing so, it elevates the narrative beyond mere entertainment, inviting readers to confront uncomfortable truths while still delivering an immersive reading experience.

The Tonto Woman by Elmore Leonard (1982)

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

We have a Western double-feature for you this weekend! Both are taken from the "Complete Western Stories" by the prolific and talented Elmore Leonard. Starting with "The Tonto Woman", this is a later work, appearing near the end of this wonderful anthology. There is a cinematic quality to Leonard's writing and it makes sense that many of his works have been adapted into movies or television. Yet, I can totally understand why nobody has dared to touch this story with a ten foot pole in fear of being labeled a racist and immediately cancelled. The story revolves around mischievous cowboy who meets woman that was captured by a tribe of "Indians" and branded with a face tattoo. After being released, she has been ostracized by her husband and society, forced to live alone on the outskirts of town. Hear me out. In the right creative hands, it's a great premise that could go in many different directions, especially as a feminist-take on the Western genre.  As a revenge tale with a strong female lead, it could be quite badass but not without offending the entire indigenous community, so scrap that idea. Her husband and his gang of ruffians are the real villains here. Instead, let's pivot towards are more nuanced approach--a quiet character study. This would explore the woman's trauma and her relationship with the cowboy fella. As an outcast himself, he is empathetic towards her plight and Leonard even hints at burgeoning romantic feelings between them. 

Adopting the "less is more" technique, Leonard's economical prose is taut and meticulously focused on delivering an entertaining story. He mixes together some sharp dialogue and vivid imagery to further enhance the overall cinematic effect.  This is a slow burn and Leonard exhibits remarkable restraint in delaying the main conflict. There are no big action scenes or shoot-outs; rather, it's a story about these complex and interesting characters. The elliptical writing style creates ambiguity, tantalizing the reader with just enough intrigue to leave you craving more.

Donald Barthelme Saved from Oblivion by Joyce Carol Oates

The Don Father.

I was going to cap off Donald Barthelme week on this blog with another one of his wonderfully idiosyncratic short-stories. However, it was pure happenstance that I stumbled across this amusing title by Joyce Carol Oates: "Donald Barthelme Saved from Oblivion." It somehow seemed very fitting, especially since Barthelme's popularity has certainly declined over the years and he probably isn't widely read as much these days. This is a real shame. I applaud Oates' effort in recognizing and also celebrating one of American short-story writers of the latter half of the 20th century who has largely been forgotten. In a kind of metafictional eulogy, she successfully pays homage to his postmodernist style by utilizing pastiche, irony, parody, collage, intertextuality and a fragmented structure that is split into various sections. For instance, one section is called "Anatomy of the Artist" that uses contradictory juxtapositions to try and understand his complex nature as a person and as a writer that often blur together: "Don is a genius. Don is an idiot savant. Don is a raving lunatic. Don is a saint. Don is a con-man." These witty and humorous anecdotes continue throughout the entire story, taking on various narrative forms. Unfortunately, the end result is a mixed bag that feels bloated and might have been more enjoyable if it was shorter in length. The rambling digressions can be somewhat tedious. 

Yet, Oates skillfully emulates Barthelme's signature aesthetic with great precision. The disjointed and fractured nonlinear storytelling is ripe with his hallmark contradictions, digressions, repetition, paradoxes and self-reflexivity. This dreamlike and hallucinatory atmosphere further contributes to the disorienting nature of the text. Of course, this wouldn't be a proper Barthelme story without the playful and absurdist humor, which Oates delivers in spades. If her name wasn't attached to this work, you might think that this story was published posthumously by the Barthelme estate. 

The fictional biography sections is where the story really shines, especially when DB shows up as a character. You can tell Oates had lots of fun writing this story and integrating some of his works into the narrative was also nice touch ("The School", "Glass Mountain" and "Chablis" to name a few). Readers familiar with Barthelme's oeuvre are sure to relish these references, adding an extra layer of enjoyment. As a celebration of the author and his creative vision, the story triumphs. However, Oates gets a little carried away with indulging in postmodernist aesthetics. It's a bit much at times and really bogs down the narrative flow. 

The King of Jazz by Donald Barthelme

Love Supreme.

Beginning in medias-res and consisting almost entirely of dialogue, "The King of Jazz" by Donald Barthelme is another gem in the author's impressive oeuvre. Jazz music and literary postmodernism are like two peas in a pod, both sharing an affinity for experimentation and complex structures. The interplay of various voices and musical sounds in the text creates a syncopated rhythm, reminiscent of the spontaneous energy found in jazz music. Yet, beneath this seemingly improvised cadence lies the author's meticulous craftsmanship, skillfully playing with language to evoke such an effect. 

Now that Spicy MacLammermoor has died, Hokie Mokie believes that he is the newly crowned King of Jazz. Can we pause for a moment and acknowledge how ridiculous these names are? I love it. Hokie Mokie has barely any time to revel in this newfound glory before he is quickly challenged by another musician from Japan. An intense jam session takes place, each musician trying to outshine the other with their electrifying, vibrant and soulful instrumentals. However, these adjectives are inadequate to capture the essence of the beautifully complex and and rhythmic jazz techniques during the competitive showdown. The reader can only imagine what the music sounds like through the different perspectives and commentary of those playing or listening at the show. For example, one of the audience members attempts to describe Hokie Mokie's music as a "famous 'English sunrise' way of playing. Playing with lots of rays coming out of it, some red rays, some blue rays, some green rays, some green stemming from a violet center, some olive stemming from a tan center-". Of course, this is mere poetic embellishment and Hokie does not sound like this at all. Paradoxically, the author is lightheartedly poking fun at the fictive representation of music, which cannot be captured in words, while also utilizing language in this refreshing way to convey these impressions. 

This is just a joyful, funny and rollicking read from start to finish.

You can read this story HERE.

Chablis by Donald Barthelme

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene \ With beaded bubbles winking at the brim.

"Chablis" is the first short-story to appear in Donald Barthelme's collection entitled, "Forty Stories." Similar to some of his other early works, it seems he's teetering on the brink of discovering his unique literary voice and postmodernist flair. Certain moments resonate with quintessential Barthelme charm, particularly through his witty humor. However, overall, the story adopts a fairly straightforward narrative approach, lacking the surreal experimental style for which he will later be renowned.

The domestic nature of fatherhood and the challenges of raising a young child is at the heart of this story. Through the narrator's internal reflections, we are drawn into a world of palpable anxiety, where the parental concern feels deeply relatable. There is a wry, sardonic tone to his anxious thoughts, which contribute to the story's darkly humorous appeal. For instance, worrying if the baby will stick a utensil into an electrical outlet or get sick from eating Crayolas. This familiarity strikes a chord of recognition, especially among parents. The baby is more emotionally attached to the narrator's mother whereas he struggles with establishing his role as a reliable and competent father. Since these heteronormative domestic roles are highly gendered, he seeks to make himself useful and regain some confidence in the area of raising this child. Hence, the flashback to his reckless youth when a near-fatal car accident ensued from his intoxicated state, serves to complete the narrative arc. This poignant reflection offers him a newfound sense of confidence, suggesting that just as he managed to navigate a crisis in the past, the challenges of parenting might prove surmountable after all.

On the Deck by Donald Barthelme

All aboard!

"On the Deck" might be one of Donald Barthelme's earlier stories because it feels as if he is still in the process of developing his signature postmodern style. We are presented with a brief sketch of eccentric passengers aboard a large sea vessel. Their destination? Unclear. There is a caged lion, a Christian motorcycle gang, a pretty girl wearing a sun dress and various others. There's even some guy named Mitch sitting in his Camry. I chuckled. The sea captain makes a brief appearance with a random burst of non-sequiturs: "I would have done better work if I'd had some encouragement. I've met a lot of people in my life. I let my feelings carry me along." Presumably he is speaking to another passenger or maybe it's a monologue? Again, unclear. 

We catch fleeting glimpses of these people, and the narrative transitions from one character to the next, guided by their proximity to each other while stationed on deck. The narrator shows up in the final scene, a tender moment that is strangely ambiguous. Thus, there is a random quirkiness to this story but it doesn't really add up to much. 

At the Tolstoy Museum by Donald Barthelme

Tolstoy and his wife had 13 children together. Poor Sophia.

Now that I am becoming familiar with Barthelme's general proclivities, it seems that I prefer his more experimental and playful side. "At the Tolstoy Museum" makes for a good companion piece to "The Flight of Pigeons from the Palace" since both contain a somewhat linear narrative, deadpan humor and a dash of surrealism. Similarly, they possess a charmingly innocuous quality, leaving only a faint imprint.

This story's formalistic style is a tour guide through a museum dedicated to the famous Russian author. The narrator informs us from the very beginning that museum patrons are prone to weeping as they stare rapturously at thousands of pictures of Count Leo Tolstoy or read his writings on display. It is difficult to tell if this a satire of sycophants or a genuine paean to his literary greatness. Maybe it's both. 

As the reader is taken along this tour, the narrator inserts random yet amusing facts about Tolstoy, including commentary about the museum architecture. He even interrupts the narrative flow to recount a story he once read by Tolstoy about a bishop visiting an island of hermits to teach them about Christianity. Whether or not Tolstoy actually wrote this story (probably not), is irrelevant. These digressions, tangents, fragments, collages and intertextuality are all part of the Barthelme's postmodern style. Yet, this story is far less experimental and surreal than one might expect. The ending of the story coincides with the ending of the tour, comprising of a single sentence in parentheses: "(Closed Mondays)." 

Well played Donald, well played.