海角大神

This could be a 鈥渟tory鈥� in Can't and Won't.

I wanted to title my book of stories 鈥淐an鈥檛 and Won鈥檛,鈥� but I thought that when a prospective buyer went to a bookstore and asked for it the clerk would think the customer was asking for 鈥淜ant and Wundt,鈥� a substantial tome of philosophy and psychology.聽 I didn鈥檛 like that.聽 But then I thought it was more likely the clerk would think the customer was asking for 鈥淐ant and Wont,鈥� a light book of empty language and habitual behavior.聽 I liked that, so I titled my book of stories 鈥淐an鈥檛 and Won鈥檛.鈥�

I think his 鈥渟tory鈥� is just as plausible as Davis鈥檚 two-sentence title piece in which a narrator says he or she was denied a literary prize because the committee found him or her 鈥渓azy鈥� for using contractions such as 鈥�肠补苍鈥檛 and 飞辞苍鈥檛.鈥� My Davis 鈥渟tory鈥� is somewhat longer than her Davis 鈥渟tory鈥� and many of her shorts, and mine has more character development, action, and attention to setting than some.聽 She rarely refers to high culture figures, but the self-consciousness and self-reference, the instability of mind and meanings, the general poverty of diction and lack of metaphor, the repetitive sentence structure, the circular movement, all giving the sense that language might be machine generated, are characteristic of Davis.聽 Also representative are the possibly disarming admission that she customarily produces banalities and the clearly misleading assertion that she writes 鈥渟tories.鈥�

And yet now seems Lydia Davis鈥檚 moment. 聽Last year Davis won the Man Booker International Prize and received an Award of Merit medal from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.聽 This new collection occasioned a recent New Yorker profile and bears blurbs by James Wood, Ali Smith, Colm Toibin, and Ben Marcus who sound as if they were writing under the influence of laughing gas.聽 The momentum toward this moment began when that most literary of presses, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, published Davis鈥檚 "Collected Stories" in 2009.聽 After reading "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛," I went back to that book.聽 I 飞辞苍鈥檛 claim I found the patience to read all 733 pages, but I did survey the kinds of 鈥渟tories鈥� in the whole and did read the 200-plus pages from "Varieties of Disturbance," which was published in 2007, to see if this new book displays changes in method or achievement from her most recent work.聽

鈥淟et be be finale of seem,鈥� says Wallace Stevens in 鈥淭he Emperor of Ice-Cream.鈥澛� Davis is celebrated for eschewing or mocking all those old-fashioned fictional conventions of 鈥渟eem鈥�: words artfully arranged, characters that appear to be people, passages of discourse that seem to be conversation, pages that might be mistaken for a narrative.聽 She is the Empress of Ice-Cream, queen of transient small pleasures served cold.聽 In "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" the Empress is barely clothed with her short shorts.聽 The most distinctive and remarked on feature of Davis鈥檚 work, these one-sentence or one-page 鈥渟tories鈥� occupy a larger proportion of "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" than of the "Collected Stories."聽 Perhaps encouraged or emboldened by her praise and awards, Davis has given over a third of her new book to her briefs.聽 Here is an example, the whole of 鈥淏loomington鈥�: 鈥淣ow that I have been here for a little while, I can say with confidence that I have never been here before.鈥澛� Here is all of her final piece entitled 鈥淧h.D.鈥�: 鈥淎ll these years I thought I had a Ph.D.聽 But I do not have a Ph.D.鈥�

I do have a Ph.D., so I鈥檓 familiar with Davis鈥檚 few learned references in the collection, including Maurice Blanchot and Raymond Queneau鈥檚 "Exercises in Style," which tells one story in 99 different ways.聽 I鈥檝e read Stein鈥檚 prose poems in "Tender Buttons."聽 I know the B-list of experimental short fictioneers 鈥� Beckett, Borges, Barthelme, Barth 鈥� and Russell Edson (an early influence on Davis), as well as some of the literary theorists who replaced 鈥渟tory鈥� first with 鈥渇iction,鈥� then with 鈥渢ext,鈥� and now maybe with 鈥渧erbal artifact.鈥澛� I get Davis鈥檚 tradition, but my tolerance for the inconsequential 鈥� texts for nothing and about nothing and eliciting nothing 鈥� is limited, though I recognize that 鈥渟tories鈥� of the kind I have quoted and invented could be ideal reading for cell phones.聽 Or the texts could function like bread between wine tastings, but too many of Davis鈥檚 shorts 鈥� really 鈥渢inies鈥� 鈥� come one after another, page after page of eked words, white space, and inconsequence.聽 In "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛," less is least.聽

Davis may be a little nervous about the increase of shorts because she uses her last page to explain what she鈥檚 doing in two kinds of brief 鈥渟tories鈥� not found in "Varieties of Disturbance."聽 Many of the new one-page pieces are labeled 鈥渄reams.鈥� 聽Davis says some of them were contributed by others and some were her own.聽 Though presented as a stickler for precision in her profile, Davis fails to note that the 鈥渄reams鈥� are not, in fact, dreams but verbal accounts of dreams and probably selective accounts at that. 聽That is, they are fictions.聽 I know people who skip over dreams in novels.聽 The temptation is strong in "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛."聽

Some other one-page pieces are called 鈥渟tories from Flaubert鈥� and are 鈥渇ormed from material found in letters鈥� written by that novelist. 聽How much credit for these appropriated anecdotes should go to Flaubert and how much to Davis is impossible to tell.聽 Perhaps weary of invention, Davis has decided to put others鈥� words in her work. 聽A third kind of short in "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" can be called, after the following 鈥淗ousekeeping Observation,鈥� observations: 鈥淯nder all this dirt the floor is really clean.鈥澛� This one happens to be more koan-like than most.聽 Try meditating, for example, on this geographical observation: 鈥淪he thinks, for a moment, that Alabama is a city in Georgia: it is called Alabama, Georgia.鈥澛�

With 鈥淒reams,鈥� 鈥淔lauberts,鈥� and 鈥淥bservations,鈥� Davis is using slightly different methods from her recent work to test just how much inconsequence readers will accept. 聽For most writers, the items in all three groups would be confined to their notebooks for possible use in or development to stories.聽 For Davis, the pieces are 鈥渟tories.鈥澛� Perhaps together they even trace the development of story from Flaubertian anecdote to modernist surrealism to postmodernist whatever.聽 Individually, though, the pieces pretty much flatline, with a few blips of faint wit, on the consequence monitor.聽 However, if you find the works I鈥檝e quoted subtle or profound or humorous, you need read no further.聽 Get thee to a bookstore and carefully pronounce "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛."

Davis鈥檚 stripped approach in the one-liners or one-pagers carries over to the less short or little longer texts, which also fall into several categories.聽 There are lists: of numerous items the narrator doesn鈥檛 find interesting or does find interesting in the Times Literary Supplement, many things that make a narrator uncomfortable, characteristics of a cat named Molly, the sounds of objects in a house, and 鈥淟ocal Obits,鈥� one or two sentences of life summaries found in obituaries. 聽Like the very existence of the shorts, the items seem arbitrary.聽 They form a series rather than a sequence, the origin of 鈥渃onsequence.鈥澛� Some other texts are 鈥淭ravel Observations.鈥澛� A narrator, possibly the same narrator since Davis pays scant attention to different voices, is traveling by train or plane and observes the passing scene and other people.聽 Because the narrator is moving, the pieces can be called sequences or narratives, though usually not moving narratives because the route is fixed and the style is generally affectless.

"Varieties of Disturbance" has only two lists and two travel stories, so with "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" Davis is amping up arbitrariness and, to my mind, damping down significance.聽 But among her mid-length pieces is a heretofore little used mode 鈥� the faux letter 鈥� that generates more interesting work.聽 The letters are addressed to manufacturers of frozen peas and candies, a bookstore manager, a 鈥淏iographical Institute,鈥� and to a foundation.聽 In these, Davis shifts from her wonted reduction of means to compulsive elaboration, and the texts begin to have the weight of stories.聽 The letters begin with modest purposes 鈥� to complain, correct, or inform 鈥� but a scrupulous or manic desire to explain extends the missives far beyond their initial goals to revelations about the person writing and, in the 28-page letter by a professor to a foundation, to a sad and comic commentary on academic life.聽 But missing from almost all the mid-length pieces, even from letters addressed to a named recipient, is human reciprocity.聽 The Empress observes and thinks and sends messages but has no use for dialogue.

The most substantial pieces in "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" are essentially meditations but can be safely termed stories.聽 They are consequential because thoughts or actions within them have consequences for their characters and because the stories could have more than a transient effect on the reader鈥檚 consciousness.聽 "Varieties of Disturbance" has quite a few such stories. 聽In "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" they number only three 鈥� the letter to the foundation and two with animals in their titles.聽 In 鈥淭he Seals鈥� the narrator remembers her dead sister, the complications she caused, and the narrator鈥檚 ambivalences toward her.聽 鈥淭he Cows,鈥� my favorite, could be called, after Wallace Stevens, 鈥淓ighty-nine Ways of Looking at Three Cows.鈥澛� Watching cows from various perspectives in or near her home, the narrator learns about them and about how her mind and feelings work.聽 Although lacking the emotional tug of 鈥淭he Seals,鈥� 鈥淭he Cows鈥� could very well be a perceptive epistemological exercise.聽 Or I could be desperate to say something complimentary about Davis鈥檚 work.

Towards the end of "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛," yet another category not so explicitly present in "Varieties of Disturbance" emerges: metafiction. Two one-page pieces advise revisions of works we don鈥檛 see, and somewhat longer texts called 鈥淲riting鈥� and 鈥淣ot Interested鈥� are comments on reading.聽 Since I have that Ph.D., I would never be so na茂ve as to think the narrator of these last two is Lydia Davis, but some of the remarks might be construed as a rationale for the kind of fiction Davis has always done and is now doubling down on. 聽(Maybe that last phrase should be 鈥渉alving down on.鈥�)聽 In 鈥淲riting,鈥� the narrator complains, 鈥淲riting is often not about real things.鈥澛� The narrator of 鈥淣ot Interested鈥� says, 鈥淭hese days, I prefer books that contain something real, or something the author at least believed to be real.聽 I don鈥檛 want to be bored by someone else鈥檚 imagination.鈥� 鈥淟et the lamp affix its beam,鈥� says Stevens in 鈥淭he Emperor of Ice Cream.鈥澛� No more illusions, no further imaginaries.聽 Although I can invent such stuff, the Empress suggests, I 飞辞苍鈥檛.

But ontologically (if I may) the naked sentences and arbitrary texts in "Can鈥檛 and Won鈥檛" 鈥渃ontain鈥� no more of the 鈥渞eal鈥� than traditional stories.聽 If the texts look too dumb to have been invented or appear to be autobiographical or even if the author uses her own name within a piece, as Davis does in several, the reader still 肠补苍鈥檛 know that the text is 鈥渞eal,鈥� that it is true and not a fiction.聽 Like the first novels in English, Davis鈥檚 writings do sometimes resemble documents 鈥� scholarly studies in "Varieties of Disturbance"; lists, letters, medical records, and obituaries here 鈥� found in the real world, but that doesn鈥檛 mean her works are therefore found objects.聽 Her texts are imitations of real documents, just as written stories are imitations of real oral storytelling. 聽Books like Davis鈥檚 may seem to offer raw truth, but they have been cooked, if only slightly or badly.

鈥淚t seems a country-headed thing to say,鈥� said William Gass many years ago, 鈥渢hat literature is language, that stories and the places and the people in them are merely made of words.鈥澛� Since both conventional stories and Davis鈥檚 texts are word-made imitations, the evaluative question for me is consequence.聽 The narrator of 鈥淣ot Interested鈥� is easily bored by 鈥済ood鈥� novels and stories. 聽The writers who so hyperbolically praise Davis in her blurbs are probably also bored by traditional fiction, no matter how 鈥済ood鈥� or skilled or imaginative it may be.聽 David Shields in "Reality Hunger" 鈥� which, perhaps not coincidentally, praises Davis and carries a blurb from her 鈥� is the spokesmen for those who suffer from Fiction Attention Disorder, readers sated and jaded by artists鈥� imagination and art.聽 F.A.D. makes Shields susceptible to faddish 鈥渞eality鈥� writing akin to reality television.聽 Examined with even a little rigor, Shields鈥檚 arguments against fiction turn out to be rationalizations for the confessed narcissism from which he has constructed a career.聽 Me, I鈥檓 bored by banalities and irritated by trivialities that an author implies are mysteriously consequential because 鈥渞eal鈥� and because included in a printed book (not just broadcast into the Twitterverse).聽 I鈥檓 not against real life in life, but in language my hunger is for profundity or ingenuity or subtlety or, better yet, all three in a single work.

I believe Davis is having her moment now because every decade or so a writer emerges 鈥� a Burroughs or Barthelme or Carver in America 鈥� who seems to be cleansing the palate of fiction with the 鈥渞eal鈥� and causing cognitive dissonance with an unconventional style.聽 鈥淪eems鈥� because I think actual cognitive dissonance is created by works such as Atwood鈥檚 "Alias Grace," which mixes historical facts and invention, or Mark Z. Danielewski鈥檚 "House of Leaves," which combines real documents and the fantastic.聽 Davis鈥檚 dissonance is easily 鈥渞ecuperated,鈥� as the theorists say.聽 She doesn鈥檛 really threaten and does no harm.

The Empress is becoming more insistent on inconsequence but issues no ukases.聽 Lydia Davis doesn鈥檛 pretend to be anything she鈥檚 not.聽 No, it鈥檚 writers like Shields and her other boosters who make extravagant and, ironically, unrealistic claims for her fiction who have no clothes.聽 Could I be the Emperor?聽 It鈥檚 possible, but until I get more from Davis I鈥檒l keep thinking of myself as Stevens鈥檚 鈥淪now Man,鈥� who sees 鈥淣othing that is not there and the nothing that is.