Between-semester reading #1
This is not the promised substantive post. Tomorrow, most likely.
As the fulfillment of a long-time promise to myself, I've begun reading--this time, with the intent to finish--Georges Perec's famous-in-some-circles novel, Life: A User's Manual. Recounting the various lives of the tenants of a small apartment building in Paris up to a point just after the death of one of the tenants, it is extraordinarily detailed in its cataloguing of the material and biographical, knick-knacky minutiae of the tenants . . . and, here and there, the omniscient-but-invisible narrator's hints that all this will add up to . . . something. More (much, much more) detail about the rules Perec followed in writing this novel is here; those curious about Oulipo, the experimental-literature collective Perec belonged to, can visit here.
I'm about a hundred pages into this thing. I'm maddeningly, delightfully lost in this fiendishly-complex thing. At least one regular visitor here has read this; I'll not be wanting to hear anything from you other than confirmation that it will be worth my while to finish it.
A recurring motif in this novel is the jigsaw puzzle. It's fitting, then, that its Preamble is a meditation on jigsaw puzzles. Here is its final paragraph-and-a-half, which I especially like:The organised, coherent, structured signifying space of the picture is cut up not only into inert, formless elements containing little information or signifying power, but also into falsified elements, carrying false information; two fragments of cornice made to fit each other perfectly when they belong in fact to two quite separate sections of the ceiling, the belt buckle of a uniform which turns out in extremis to be a metal clasp holding the chandelier, several almost identically cut pieces belonging, for one part, to a dwarf orange tree placed on a mantelpiece and, for the other part, to its scarcely attenuated reflection in a mirror, are classic examples of the types of traps puzzle-lovers come across.
Some people read stuff like that and run screaming for the hills, and I understand that sentiment. Of course, for "some," read "most readers"--which means that not a lot of this sort of thing gets written, doesn't stay in print long, or is hard to find even if it is in print. And, truth be told, not all the Oulipo stuff results in marvelous works of literature. But sometimes it does, and--so far--Life: A User's Manual is proving to be one of the most satisfying things I've read in a very long time.
From this, one can make a deduction which is quite certainly the ultimate truth of jigsaw puzzles: despite appearances, puzzling is not a solitary game: every move the puzzler makes, the puzzle-maker has made before; every piece the puzzler picks up, ans picks up again, and studies and strokes, every combination he tries, and tries a second time, every blunder and every insight, each hope ans each discouragement have all been designed, calculated, and decided by the other. (xvii)
