Monday, June 25, 2007

Its nice to see I'm picking up some speed again, 'cause here it is, two finished books in a week. Perhaps I should re-think my whole, reading multiple books at once modus operandi, because sometimes it feels like I never get one thing read...

But anyway, here we are at number 14 of the year, Wilson: A Consideration of the Sources, by David Mamet.

Now, I don't like books that make me feel stupid. Fortunately, not many do. Sure, I struggled with Beowulf written in Old English at first, but after awhile, the understanding grew and I understood it. In fact, there were very few books that made me feel stupid during my four years of English Literature that made me feel stupid, until 4th year and 20th Century and Modern Literature hit.

I'm not a big... postmodern junkie. Not by any means. I really, really dislike modern poetry, and having to read authors like Beckett, Pinter, Plath, etc. kinda made me feel like I just didn't 'get' it. And I don't like that feeling. I guess I am a bit of a snob when it comes to books; by dint of a degree in English Literature, I AM well read, but I'm not increadibly well read when it comes to modern literature.

So, this brings us to Wilson by David Mamet. It made me feel stupid. It definitely made me feel like I didn't 'get' it. But I think that this was the entire point.

Wilson is a feat of social archeology, the supposed reconstruction of what early 20th century life was like only through the garbled leavings of a corrupted Internet. Needless to say, trying to recreate life, or literature or anything for that matter using only the Internet to go by is going to leave you with a not very realistic look at our life.

Wilson is an interesting but frustrating read because, while there are moments of literary and word play brilliance, it is, ultimately an exercise in having no context. Even as someone living during the time that the information is supposed to come from doesn't help, what has been cobbled together is equally as baffling for us as it is for them. Who is the Toll Hound? I still have no idea... I've at least heard of Woodrow Wilson, but how his wife's diaries fit into all of this, I'm still not sure.

Reading Wilson is an exercise in liteary futility, which is exactly what I would imagine it to be if someone, hundreds of years from now, tried to put our society and culture together after some apolcalypse wiped nearly everything out, except a few snippets of the internet.

Yeah, I hate feeling stupid.

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