One of literatures greatest mysteries: PostModernism. How would some of the most prominent PostModern writers describe it? Here's how I think it would go:
“Welcome,” the virtual prompter bellows, his holographic form pulsing with the movement of the light that composes it. “Our goal today is to solve one of literature’s great mysteries: What is Postmodernism?”
With this question, several of the literary artists sitting at the round table’s curved edge begin to burst into conversation.
“Doesn’t giving Postmodernism a blanket definition go against Postmodernist tendencies?” Someone asks, their voice rising slightly above the others.
“Well what are Postmodern tendencies?” the prompter asks.
“Postmodernist works play with perceptions of reality,” Doctorow answers. “They should make readers question their own preconceived notions. What is real? What is not real? I find an excellent way to portray this is through historiographic metafiction; blending real pieces of history together with false ones. It makes readers question the notion of history and fiction as constructs.”
“They do play with reality,” Marquez responds, “but I find that the best way to portray this is through magical realism. Experiencing reality through an alternate perspective. History can play into this as well, but through the portrayal of time and reflective examining of past events. Instead of making readers question the past, it should rely more heavily on making the reader examine the relationship of the past to the present. My novel, for example, does exactly that; uses current characters and circumstances to examine the past”
“Postmodernism isn’t all about reality,” Gibson insists. “I’d say it’s more about alternate realities. We live in a world of law and order; Postmodern works should operate within lawlessness and lack of order. It should warp elements of our own reality into something different.”
“I disagree,” Shields cuts in, “I think our own reality is the most Postmodern reality there is.”
“This banter isn’t helping,” Pynchon cuts in. “Postmodernist works are identified by their work with the relationship between form and content. A defying of grand narratives is what defines Postmodernism. Not sticking to traditionally accepted forms, like genre conventions, for example. My own novel is often compared to detective novels, but the lack of resolution at the novel’s end defies that categorization. Postmodern works are not like trees, with a clearly definable trunk/plotline. They’re more like rhizomes, where everything is connected, but no one piece takes more importance than the other. Several tenets should be interwoven throughout the narrative.”
“I’d agree with that,” Le offers. “Building a narrative that isn’t easily categorized is the maker or Postmodern work. If your reader isn’t left with questions, then the narrative isn’t Postmodern. My readers often ask me if my novel is fiction or fact, and their questions fortify my novel’s categorization as Postmodern.”
“Yes,” Auster offers, “leaving the audience questioning what they’ve read is a marker of Postmodernism, as well as defiance of form. My novel’s conclusion defies itself; there is no definitive conclusion. Pynchon’s novel does the same.”
“As does mine. It seems like a detective novel, but has no resolution. I’d be more likely to compare it to Le’s work, however, because it is a blending of fact and fiction” Marquez responds.
“I think we’re neglecting narration, which is a big part of Postmodernist works,” Shields cuts in.
“I don’t think narration is that important,” Gibson argues.
“Narration is definitely important,” counters Marquez. “My own narrator is unnamed.”
“And why is an unnamed narrator significant?” Gibson insists.
“Because,” Doctorow cuts in, “its another way that Postmodern works defy conventions. My own narrator is unnamed as well, which leaves readers to question the source of the reality presented within the book. My novel intends to make readers question history as a construct because of perspective. A lack of identified perspective augments that.”
“My narrator is named, so I don’t think it’s the lack of identity that makes a work postmodern,” Shields contests. “I think it’s the reliability of the narrator. In my novel, the narrator recants events from her own life in a way that seems almost neutral and separate. She tells readers, however, that her own perspective is not definitive and sound. I am able to paint a believable plot with a questionable source, thus leaving the readers with questions about the reliability of what they’ve read.”
“What we’ve established is that Postmodernism is about defying pre-conceived expectations…so setting expectations is counterproductive.” Says an indistinct voice.
“Well,” says the prompter. “How about this? Which of your respective novels is the best example of Postmodern tendancies?”
Following this question, there is a moment of silence. Then, overwhelming noise as each literary artist tries to talk over the other.
“This defeats the purpose!” someone shouts.
“BUT,” someone else says, “If we HAD to pick…” someone else counters.
“This,” the prompter says as he looks around at the chaos unfolding, “is postmodernism.”
