)When I first saw this quote, I didn't follow at all, mostly because it was missing the second half of the quote that clarifies how the hell the novel is a "moister area of literature". And also because the word "moist" always seems to me nauseatingly sensual, almost onomatopoeic- just saying it sounds like it requires an inordinate amount of saliva sloshing around one's mouth. A hundred rills of saliva, if you will. But E.M.'s always been my boy, so I'm willing to let this instance of lewd word choice slide.
I had to look up those three references in the first sentence; Parnassus and Pisgah are both mountains, and the Helicon is a river. Parnassus, pertaining to Greek mythology, was seen as the home of the Muses, and Pisgah is believed in the Hebrew tradition to be the mountain which Moses climbed to view the Promised Land for the first time. The Helicon, located in the Macedonian state Dion, is also a figure in Greek mythology, known most prominently for receding completely to prevent the woman who killed Orpheus from washing her hands of his blood in its pure waters.
With that in mind, I really enjoyed the idea of the novel being a pervasive figure whose impact transcends the intellectual audience. I am certainly eager to believe that, being an english literature major who worries not a little about the practical application of my studies. Forster, in my opinion, is portraying the novel as something not only substantial, but also as, at its core, natural- the novel recurring so prominently in nature that even "historians" are irked by it's intervention in their arena. This claim has obvious merit, as the three extremely historic locations mentioned in the first sentence all have literary significance dating way back. With this view, I find myself being able to take pride in the study of literature, and not trivialize it as a mere diversion from reality.
“The sensitive tale of a sensitive young WASP who’s just had this midlife crisis that’s moved him from coldly cerebral analytic math to a coldly cerebral take on fiction . . . which also shifted his existential dread from a fear that he was just a 98.6°F calculating machine to a fear that he was nothing but a linguistic construct.” David Foster Wallace describing The Broom of the System
I threw in a quote of Wallace describing his 1987 debut novel, The Broom of the System
, which I just finished today. More extravaganza then novel, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and my enjoyment was amplified by listening to it on audiobook. If anyone has read the book, I'm sure you would agree with me when I say that the outlandish dialogue becomes even more ridiculous when being read outloud by the misfortunate narrator. Personal favorite of my being the narrator having to impersonate Judith Prieth's ventriloquial screeches at the expense of her morbidly obese cat. *sigh* Is it pathetic to be overcome with nostalgia for fictional characters? The question is a bit more appropriate in this context, as the book's premise hinges on the allegedly fragile membrane between fiction and reality, asking whether we are comprised of atoms and molecules, or whether we are simply "nothing but a linguistic construct".My immediate impression on concluding the book, however, was not entirely favorable. The close of the novel is shockingly abrupt and left many tantalizing questions unanswered, its climax leading up to the peak of giant Parnassus (full circle, baby) and leaving us to stare down the unscalable side opposite. Yet upon backtracking and heeding Lenore's dimensional concerns, the non-resolutions make the novel an adroitly-constructed picture of reality. Having things go terribly awry, having expectations go horribly unfulfilled- is that not what life is all about? I say that in a bit of jest, but truly, what separates our day-to-day from the romanticized versions that we entertain ourselves with is fucked-up shit that stays fucked-up, protagonists that end up being unabashedly self-absorbed, and just the kind of general sense of something missing like cold, unfinished basements. God, that book was awesome.
Anyways, here's what I've been bumping lately. Been on a huge Das Racist kick. Even those these cats are such major goons, my love of their music should not in any way be confused as a guilty pleasure; these guys are creative, innovative, and sometimes even viably moral. In terms of being a joke, "that's not how Das Racist roll: they kid because they are deeply and madly in love with hip-hop, and Sit Down, Man is an infinitely entertaining result of extreme reverence toward rap and irreverence toward everything else, themselves included" (Ian Cohen, Pitchfork Reviews). They are just the kind of guys to not take themselves too seriously, which is very refreshing in the hip-hop game. Peep the vid below (if for nothing more than Kool A.D. posting stark naked and showing some mad pubeage) and check the download, if you are so inclined:
Das Racist- Rainbow in the Dark
cop that shit here
and get both of DR's mixtapes for free here
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