Chimera John Barth Pdf Viewer
Download >> Download Chimera john barth pdf printer. This bawdy, comic trio of novellas finds John Barth injecting his John Barth is a reader's writer.
By the winner of the National Book Award and bestselling author of 'The Tidewater Tales,' three of the great myths of all time revisited by a modern master. Dunyazade, Scheherazade's kid sister, holds the destiny of herself and the prince who holds her captive.
Perseus, the demigod who slew the Gorgon Medusa, finds himself at forty battling for simple self-respect like any By the winner of the National Book Award and bestselling author of 'The Tidewater Tales,' three of the great myths of all time revisited by a modern master. Dunyazade, Scheherazade's kid sister, holds the destiny of herself and the prince who holds her captive.
Perseus, the demigod who slew the Gorgon Medusa, finds himself at forty battling for simple self-respect like any common mortal. Bellerophon, once a hero for taming the winged horse Pegasus, must wrestle with a contentment that only leaves him wretched. 'The truth about fiction is that Fact is a fantasy; the made-up story is a model of the world.'
- John Barth, Chimera I seem to fall, often backwards into Barth. Chimera was on my radar, barely, but I didn't know much about it. So, I was lucky (I guess) to read it right after finishing Graves'. Lucky stars or indulgent gods I guess. Anywho, John Barth re +(tales tails tells) two Greek myths (and one Persian frame) into an anachronistic book of three novellas. Somewhat related, but st 'The truth about fiction is that Fact is a fantasy; the made-up story is a model of the world.'
- John Barth, Chimera I seem to fall, often backwards into Barth. Chimera was on my radar, barely, but I didn't know much about it.
So, I was lucky (I guess) to read it right after finishing Graves'. Lucky stars or indulgent gods I guess. Anywho, John Barth re +(tales tails tells) two Greek myths (and one Persian frame) into an anachronistic book of three novellas.
Somewhat related, but still a dance and music of prose. I thought 'Dunyazadiad' was a great set up. Funny, tight, and always a bit perverse and naughty, Barth takes the story of Scheherazade from tales of the 1001 Nights and reframes the frame story, then flips and pulls it. By the end it felt a bit like watching a biche de mer (sea cucumber) vomit its intestines into a funky twin story. I thought the second novella, Persiad, was pitch perfect.
The story is that of Perseus' and the narrator's search for immortality. The language, rhythm, jokes, structure were flawless. It seemed like a ball hit perfectly that hovers, hums and hangs in space. It was a story that seemed to bend the rules of literary gravity. Like an ouroboros the tail of this story snakes around into a self-eating, circular POMO myth that ends in the stars, or perhaps not.
The third and longest novella 'Bellerophoniad' bleats, bellows and tells the story of Bellerophon, another Greek hero seeking sex, drugs, adventure and immortality like Perseus and the rest of us mere mortals and wannabe demigoddamwriters. It was the emasculated goat of the trilogy, but damn what a fine wether. It didn't quite live up to its potential or my hope, but contained enough genius to cause several PhD candidates to ruminate themselves into literary pretzels and precarious dissertations for the next 50 years. For her part (she would go on-what a wife was this!), she took what she was pleased to term the Tragic View of Marriage and Parenthood: reckoning together their joys and griefs must inevitable show a net loss, if only because like life itself their attrition was constant and their term mortal. But one had only different ways of losing, and to eschew matrimony and childrearing for the delights of less serious relations was in her judgment to sustain a net loss even more considerable. A number of For her part (she would go on-what a wife was this!), she took what she was pleased to term the Tragic View of Marriage and Parenthood: reckoning together their joys and griefs must inevitable show a net loss, if only because like life itself their attrition was constant and their term mortal.
But one had only different ways of losing, and to eschew matrimony and childrearing for the delights of less serious relations was in her judgment to sustain a net loss even more considerable. A number of confessions should precede any analysis of Chimera. The opening section was the most fun I have had reading since the Derrida bio in late July. I enjoyed the second and third elements of the novel more than Calasso's marriage. That may prove heretical. I'll take my chances.
One of the local liquor stores offered Goose Island Summer Ale for three collars a sixer. I bought a case. Sure, it was outdated. I did not care. I halted my reading last night and turned to youtube. This is always a precarious decision and destination. If I then turn to Conway Twitty I know to run to our bedroom.
Instead I watched interviews with John Barth and eventually discussions of Leopardi's Zibaldone. Associations were threshed and threaded. I pondered the historical arc of narrative and sighed, considering Barth's taxonomy of the endeavor. That isn't an impediment to an appreciation of such. The sequence in the final section which segues from Robert Graves to an anthropological examination of the Amazons - thus linking the first section to the subsequent pair - was astonishing. This was a novel which needed to be read in one's 40s. Being married is also of benefit.
This is a stupid book. John Barth has admirable goals (rejuvenating the novel) and an precise, musical command of language. But his one fatal flaw is his inability to get outside his own head. He aims for mythic significance, but the cosmic scope of his stories keeps getting mixed together with the very un-cosmic matter of John Barth, 20th century American writer, trying to think of words to put on the page. This manifests itself most obviously in two ways: his metafictional bent (he likes to wri This is a stupid book. John Barth has admirable goals (rejuvenating the novel) and an precise, musical command of language. But his one fatal flaw is his inability to get outside his own head.
He aims for mythic significance, but the cosmic scope of his stories keeps getting mixed together with the very un-cosmic matter of John Barth, 20th century American writer, trying to think of words to put on the page. This manifests itself most obviously in two ways: his metafictional bent (he likes to write stories that are about their own telling - a perilous endeavour, since 'John Barth wrote a book' isn't a very good story), and his injection of 20th-century language and attitudes into other times and places (usually played for comedy, but not very successfully). In Giles Goat-Boy, this all worked, because the tension between Barth's impressive craftsmanship and his silliness felt like a deliberate balancing act. The combined effect was uncanny, like the book was a religious text from some unfinished draft of our own universe. In Chimera, the same tension just feels dumb. The story is about mythology (it is a retelling of several myths), but Barth's interest in Barth obscures Barth's interest in myth almost entirely.
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Scheherazade, Perseus, Bellerophon and numerous other mythic figures discuss literature like grad students (some of them before the invention of writing - they wonder aloud at this paradox, which only distances us further from their impossible situation). They parrot Barthian slogans (comparisons between literature and sex, the phrase 'passionate virtuosity'). Historical accuracy is not just ignored but flouted: Scheherazade was 'Homecoming Queen, valedictorian-elect, and a four-letter varsity athlete'; ancient Greeks drink Metaxa; Amazons talk like modern feminists and a gay man (in ancient Greece, yes) has a ridiculous lisp. (This list is a pretty representative sample of the book's boringly irreverent 'humor.' ) Everyone sounds like they're from the 1970s.
Well that just sounds like a silly book, doesn't it? And what's wrong with that? Why can't I lighten up? Well, because it's not very funny, for one thing.
But more importantly, Barth really has higher ambitions. He doesn't just want to joke around - he wants to make a new kind of art that takes all the old ones into detached consideration (hence this knowing, winking attitude toward ancient myths) and spits out some trans-historical ideal (both Chimera and GGB involve computers that chew up texts and produce mechanically optimized literature). But in his desire to be knowing and metafictional and above-it-all, Barth can't bring himself to create plausible - or even vivid or interesting - characters. It's hard to relate to someone who's constantly in flux, arguing with the author about lit theory here, acting like some 20th-century stereotype for laughs there, never showing much of a coherent personality. Barth's most famous books have naive protagonists (Ebenezer Cooke and George the Goat-Boy), which works well with his style, since innocent characters provide a nice reference point in the weird, shifting worlds he creates.
Without his innocents, the reader has nothing to grab onto - they're left adrift in a protean world of John Barth clones, bantering about their writerly anxieties, taking on many forms but capturing none of the wild variance of the real world. (The past is a foreign country - but in Barth's hands even the ancient Greeks are less foreign than his next-door neighbors, in that his next-door neighbors aren't him.) I will give Barth another chance sometime. But not for a long while. (His next big book after Chimera is called LETTERS, and consists of Barth and characters from his other books sending each other letters for 800 pages. More like an ourobouros.Barth probes, prods, anatomizes, decenters, and renews the story-telling 'thing' (to use one of many infectious Barthian colloquialisms, which give a winking, wry face to the monstrous ambition that bristles and bubbles behind the word-munchers specs) to a degree that seems almost to outsize the authors most beloved pet subject: that very 'thing' itself: tales and telling, told and listening. The style, as I mentioned, is energetic and folksy, and shifts in re A Chimera?
More like an ourobouros.Barth probes, prods, anatomizes, decenters, and renews the story-telling 'thing' (to use one of many infectious Barthian colloquialisms, which give a winking, wry face to the monstrous ambition that bristles and bubbles behind the word-muncher´s specs) to a degree that seems almost to outsize the author´s most beloved pet subject: that very 'thing' itself: tales and telling, told and listening. The style, as I mentioned, is energetic and folksy, and shifts in register and form oftener than turn the tales from twist to twist wihin Barth´s torsion of stories-within-stories (more on that in a bit). Diction jumps Elizabethan-ly from the tongue in cheek and lewd to the linguistically audacious and dives back all within a sentence or a line of dialogue. Neologisms rub elbows with words knowingly archaic. Barth´s pages look and sound like a great boisterous party where confetti and tinsel fall equally on the high, the low, the learned, and the libertine, showering the ballroom and its revelers(that is, the 'text')in a particolored and confusing swirl. AND YET, though the tales in 'Chimera' (especially the 'Bellerophoniad' an odd jewel in this crown heaving with rococo rocks) look like messes from afar (except the middle-novella 'Perseid' which is a pearl perfectly round all over) seen again and from various angles (picture a Pollock.one look won´t do to take it in.picture it again.) the things not only make sense, they make sense in the way all maniacal master plans do, that is they make too much of it, make sense like one might make water after swallowing several weights of wine by the barrel.
On the one hand John Barth threshed with the flail of his imagination many folklore and mythological archetypes to trash. “Polyeidus had a daughter, who knows by whom. Younger than we. That summer she was our friend. Deliades adored her, she me. I screwed her while he watched, in a little grove down on the shore, by Aphrodite's sacred well.
Honey-locusts grew there, shrouded by rank creepers and wild grape that spread amid a labyrinth of paths.” And on the other hand he sacrilegiously turne On the one hand John Barth threshed with the flail of his imagination many folklore and mythological archetypes to trash. “Polyeidus had a daughter, who knows by whom. Younger than we. That summer she was our friend. Deliades adored her, she me.
I screwed her while he watched, in a little grove down on the shore, by Aphrodite's sacred well. Honey-locusts grew there, shrouded by rank creepers and wild grape that spread amid a labyrinth of paths.” And on the other hand he sacrilegiously turned the myths into the colourful intellectual mazes. “I've read a thousand tales about treasures that nobody can find the key to, we have the key and can't find the treasure.” So John Barth managed to combine the three incongruous ingredients: lion, goat and snake – the past, the present and the impossible into a real fire-breathing monster Chimera. This was a hoot - three linked novellas each drawn from much older traditions, one from The Arabian Nights and two from Greek mythology (the careers of Perseus and Bellerophon, respectively).
There's too much deconstructionist wankery in here for me, personally; I'm not all that interested in theories of narrative, texts that are aware of themselves, et cetera, and the author's occasional appearances in his own story come off as indulgent, but then again. A chimera is after all a conjunction o This was a hoot - three linked novellas each drawn from much older traditions, one from The Arabian Nights and two from Greek mythology (the careers of Perseus and Bellerophon, respectively). There's too much deconstructionist wankery in here for me, personally; I'm not all that interested in theories of narrative, texts that are aware of themselves, et cetera, and the author's occasional appearances in his own story come off as indulgent, but then again.
A chimera is after all a conjunction of three animals and there are three interrelated stories here, hmmm. And the grand finale does feature slaying of said creature by Bellerophon, although whether it actually exists in the story is another matter, but then again maybe the actual chimera is ontologically less significant than the myth of one, seeing as how countless people know of the story but how many have actually encountered one? A bit too much for me, very dense. But I reserve the right to a reread, whereafter I may come back and announce how beautifully it all fits together and how clever John Barth really is.
I bet he would really like that. Okay, but strip away that extra stuff and still you are left with three dazzling stories.
It's best to put a little effort into it up front; look up the dozen or so character names he deals out when a story starts, reread little bits early on if you have to, because once Barth gets going he really is the virtuoso he describes. Somehow he can balance modern language with mythic settings in a way that makes the legend grow larger in the telling.
I had some passing acquaintance with these stories before Chimera but now I feel like I really know them, and in this respect I really have to give kudos to Mr. In fact if you are genuinely interested in mythology than I'll call this out as a must-read. Oh and let's not forget that Chimera is full of wild sex and laugh-out-loud humor without breaking any of its legendary context. I will never look at Amazons the same way again. Well, here is another book that I have owned forever and just now got around to reading fully. This requires a bit of background. The first time I started reading Chimera I got through the first novella, and gave up halfway through the second.
The second time, I got a tad bit further. This time, I nearly gave up through the third story. Nonetheless, I did plow through. Yes, that is the right terminology. Plowed through. Finishing Chimera felt a bit like one of the 12 tasks of Hercules, unfortun Well, here is another book that I have owned forever and just now got around to reading fully.
This requires a bit of background. The first time I started reading Chimera I got through the first novella, and gave up halfway through the second. The second time, I got a tad bit further. This time, I nearly gave up through the third story. Nonetheless, I did plow through. Yes, that is the right terminology.
Plowed through. Finishing Chimera felt a bit like one of the 12 tasks of Hercules, unfortunately. I wanted to like this book better, I really wanted to like it. The first story is brilliantly constructed, a tale within a tale within a tale. The different portions wind up together, every little diversion is a pointed one that lends itself towards a deeper understanding of the frame story. The second story begins the falling apart of it all.
The second story, Perseid, becomes a lot more dense. The plot twists are not fully spelled out until somewhere near the end where we figure out who exactly is doing the bulk of the speaking. The third story, Bellophorniad, is where you just want to give up. Everything is meta this, meta that, who is telling the story, where is the story headed - wait, everyone is dead? While the end more or less ties everything up nicely the first two acts of the third story are so bloody dense it doesn't feel worth it. Essentially, Barth should have stuck to the commentary that he did so well in Dunyazadiad - who is reading the story, how do they inform the story, who is narrating it and what do they change?
Frame of reference was better suited for a story with a generally likable protagonist. There was nothing likable about Bellerus, again, unfortunately. This book is a very mixed bag for me. The first of the three parts is beautiful, funny, witty and insightful.
It's also by far the shortest and most successful. Part two, focused on Perseus, is an enjoyable little romp, if perhaps not as poignant as the opening story and certainly not as tightly written. Part three, however, is what knocks stars off my ranking for this book, as Barth launches into a cascade of silliness and post-modern literary pyrotechnics that, while intellectually stimulating This book is a very mixed bag for me. The first of the three parts is beautiful, funny, witty and insightful. It's also by far the shortest and most successful.
Part two, focused on Perseus, is an enjoyable little romp, if perhaps not as poignant as the opening story and certainly not as tightly written. Part three, however, is what knocks stars off my ranking for this book, as Barth launches into a cascade of silliness and post-modern literary pyrotechnics that, while intellectually stimulating, don't offer much in the way of keeping one's heart and soul as invested in the story. The final feeling is one of having gone on a long ride to nowhere with someone very smart but emotionally too cold to do more than wow you with his extensive vocabulary. When we talk about postmodern literature and metafiction, it would appear at first that we are talking about a fairly low-stakes arena of activity. Most often we are.
Barth at his best, however, takes metafiction to a place of wild cosmological insight. And Chimera is emphatically Barth at his best. We are looking at text. The idea of metafiction is to approach the text as text. But a text is a thing in itself as well as a nest of contexts. Contexts that reach across time and space. When we talk about postmodern literature and metafiction, it would appear at first that we are talking about a fairly low-stakes arena of activity.
Most often we are. Barth at his best, however, takes metafiction to a place of wild cosmological insight. And Chimera is emphatically Barth at his best. We are looking at text. The idea of metafiction is to approach the text as text. But a text is a thing in itself as well as a nest of contexts.
Contexts that reach across time and space. It is not until fairly late in the third piece, 'Bellerophoniad,' where Barth takes us deep through the concentric layers of the business of myth and literature to the heart and crust of the thing, and it is far more staggering (and a profundity worthy of laughter and merriment) than I would have imagined possible. The stuff that starts to happen two-thirds of the way into 'Bellerophoniad' is amongst the most brazen and brilliant stuff in American literature, with a debt definitely being paid to Borges, whom in surpasses in both scope and fiendish comedy. The book starts great. 'Dunyazadid,' is important not just for its cleverness, but for the message it imparts upon having arrived at its destination.
It is wonderful. The best ending to a story you could ask for. But it does not prepare us for where we are going. Books that truly reveal (in the sense of revelation) are rare. This is such a book. I don't even know really where to begin with this book, except to say that it is the epitome of 'meta-' if there ever was one.
Judging by what I've read about Barth's other works, 'meta-' seems to be his thing. In Chimera, he retells 1001 Nights, the myth of Perseus, and the myth of Bellepheron with the intention of exploring why we continue to study the myths while simultaneously recasting them in a post-freudian language that tries to flesh out how such things could actually come to pass (which I don't even know really where to begin with this book, except to say that it is the epitome of 'meta-' if there ever was one. Judging by what I've read about Barth's other works, 'meta-' seems to be his thing. In Chimera, he retells 1001 Nights, the myth of Perseus, and the myth of Bellepheron with the intention of exploring why we continue to study the myths while simultaneously recasting them in a post-freudian language that tries to flesh out how such things could actually come to pass (which can't really be done).
And thus this becomes a comedy. Highly amusing at times. And for writers, since the purpose of the meta-fiction here is to study the significance of literature, this is well worth your while. But unfortunately, all of this examination is very esoteric, and without any interest in such philosophic quandries, I would think the humor would get old (the same themes and jokes are repeated through each of the three novellas in this book, where only the characters change and the meta- gets more sophisticated). I've started my Barth-reading with LETTERS and proceeded backwards to this one, and can conclude that I love him in full on meta-fictive/structural complexity-mode (which not everyone seems to favour, judging from the reviews on this one here on GR.) The book consists of two perfectly composed (and very different) short stories and one quite insane novella so densely intertwined I would more or less count this as a novel in three parts.
The first shorter ones are great in themself, but it is the I've started my Barth-reading with LETTERS and proceeded backwards to this one, and can conclude that I love him in full on meta-fictive/structural complexity-mode (which not everyone seems to favour, judging from the reviews on this one here on GR.) The book consists of two perfectly composed (and very different) short stories and one quite insane novella so densely intertwined I would more or less count this as a novel in three parts. The first shorter ones are great in themself, but it is the last part, Bellerophoniad, is where it goes five stars for me in a funhouse of shifting narrative positions, mirrorings and reenactments reflecting backwards through the first two parts as well as forward towards LETTERS (including a 3 page synopsis of some of its major plot strands.) All in all greatly recommended - and a perfect warm up to LETTERS (which everyone should read, dammit, as is it one of the most perfect novels of the last 50 years!). Dunyazadiad - 4/5 Perseid - 3/5 Bellerophoniad - not finished.Read for class.
Okay, lemme explain. I've read this for my class and I didn't have time to finish it before I got spoiled the last part, ahah, so I'm not gonna finish Bellerophoniad.
However, I will consider this read because I do know what happened and I really wanna talk a little about the first two parts. The story told by Dunyazad, Sheherazada's little sister, was my favorite. I loved how the author included himself and complicate Dunyazadiad - 4/5 Perseid - 3/5 Bellerophoniad - not finished.Read for class. Okay, lemme explain. I've read this for my class and I didn't have time to finish it before I got spoiled the last part, ahah, so I'm not gonna finish Bellerophoniad. However, I will consider this read because I do know what happened and I really wanna talk a little about the first two parts. The story told by Dunyazad, Sheherazada's little sister, was my favorite.
I loved how the author included himself and complicated the narrative by telling the stories from A Thousand and One Night to Sheherasada so she could recite them to the king. That was brilliant. Secondly, I didn't expect to get a story from king's brother and that made me like this part even more. Can we all appreciate how great it was?
Perseid was a little bit boring, especially in the beginning. We basically have Perseus dealing with midlife crisis and impotence. It was sort of pathetic, although I can understand the man.
He used to be a great hero! But then we got to the parts with Medusa's revival, now that was an interesting twist I didn't know about. And I very much enjoyed how the author resolved it. Don't have much to say about the last one, duh.
At first Bellerophon's story looks just like Perseus's with some exceptions. And it's the longest of them all.
So I realized I didn't have time, cause I have so many more books to read for school I'm not gonna be stuck with just one. Especially when it was driving me into a reading slump I can't have. Still, it's a postmodern classic and I'm glad we got to read it. An interesting insight for a future philologist. If the collected works of Barth, Mailer, Roth, Updike, etc., were launched into the sun tomorrow I'm pretty sure the world would be better off. There's just something about this 'playfully chauvinistic sex-obsessed American male writer who peaked in the 1960s-1970s' thing that is incredibly offputting.
Obviously Barth isn't precisely aligned with this group, but he's certainly reminiscent of them. I sincerely doubt that even Barth himself thought this book was actually funny or clever in any way If the collected works of Barth, Mailer, Roth, Updike, etc., were launched into the sun tomorrow I'm pretty sure the world would be better off. There's just something about this 'playfully chauvinistic sex-obsessed American male writer who peaked in the 1960s-1970s' thing that is incredibly offputting. Obviously Barth isn't precisely aligned with this group, but he's certainly reminiscent of them. I sincerely doubt that even Barth himself thought this book was actually funny or clever in any way.
Beyond a basic talent for shaping prose there's just nothing of interest here. Even his early stuff didn't actually break any ground in terms of postmodern literature (Gaddis and various others had gotten there first). 'No better way to ponder structural conventions of narrative.
Also a very funny book.' This was my note in 1984, when I was reading Barth, Pynchon, Barthelme and others to discover new ways of writing as I worked on my first, still unpublished, novel. 'Chimera' is not so much a novel as an examination of itself, about how stories including this one are constructed — as New York Times reviewer Leonard Michaels summed up, 'it consists of three parts retelling three ancient myths (the stories of Sc 'No better way to ponder structural conventions of narrative. Also a very funny book.'
This was my note in 1984, when I was reading Barth, Pynchon, Barthelme and others to discover new ways of writing as I worked on my first, still unpublished, novel. 'Chimera' is not so much a novel as an examination of itself, about how stories including this one are constructed — as New York Times reviewer Leonard Michaels summed up, 'it consists of three parts retelling three ancient myths (the stories of Scheherazade, Perseus and Bellerophon), complicated together by accretions and repetitions, all in pursuit of a pattern it makes in that very pursuit. (Does this sound like chasing one's own behind? Well the book says as much.)' Is it great literature? But it sure is a great reading exercise for anyone who is trying to imagine how to tell a story.
This is a meta-book connecting three novellas, all three of which are rewritten versions of ancient stories: The Thousand and One Nights, followed by the Greek myths of Perseus, then Bellerophon. There is more than one narrator, and sometimes there is some comic disagreement about whose story it is, anyway. This is clever and very amusing, though in my humble opinion, there were parts that went on a bit long-but then, the author does seem to be pointing out that-some tales do go on too long. I This is a meta-book connecting three novellas, all three of which are rewritten versions of ancient stories: The Thousand and One Nights, followed by the Greek myths of Perseus, then Bellerophon.
There is more than one narrator, and sometimes there is some comic disagreement about whose story it is, anyway. This is clever and very amusing, though in my humble opinion, there were parts that went on a bit long-but then, the author does seem to be pointing out that-some tales do go on too long. It's a fascinating read, nothing like I've read before, and I'm not going to attempt to give this a star rating, since it seems to stand out there all alone. (Besides, Pegasus and Perseus are already constellations). John Barth's Chimera is a playful, oblique set of three linked novellas. I have a fondness for Scheherazade/The Thousand and One Nights, so the Dunyazadiad was a perfect literary appetizer. It's fun, thoughtful, well crafted and easily accessible.
I recommend it to anyone who loves reading. Beyond that, the novellas become increasingly obtuse, more analytical and more rewarding. That being written, the Perseid is a mostly straight forward examination of middle-aged mythic hero stuck in a rut. Th John Barth's Chimera is a playful, oblique set of three linked novellas. I have a fondness for Scheherazade/The Thousand and One Nights, so the Dunyazadiad was a perfect literary appetizer.
It's fun, thoughtful, well crafted and easily accessible. I recommend it to anyone who loves reading. Beyond that, the novellas become increasingly obtuse, more analytical and more rewarding. That being written, the Perseid is a mostly straight forward examination of middle-aged mythic hero stuck in a rut. The Bellerophoniad, while similar to the Perseid, is the real jewel of the book.
It's a fun, no-holds-barred, deconstructed, post-modern mess of a novella. Be prepared to fight with it, but enjoy the struggle. I'm happy I found and took a chance on this book. 'We need a miracle, Doony.and the only genies I've ever met were in stories, not in Moorman's rings and Jew's Lamps. It's in words that the magic is- Abracadabra, Open Sesame, and the rest- but the magic words in one story aren't magical in the next. The real magic is to understand which words work, and when, and for what. The trick is to learn the trick.'
Too clever by half. I wonder if it is too bawdy to be post-modern, whatever that means. Writing about writing isn't necessarily meta-; Then 'We need a miracle, Doony.and the only genies I've ever met were in stories, not in Moorman's rings and Jew's Lamps. It's in words that the magic is- Abracadabra, Open Sesame, and the rest- but the magic words in one story aren't magical in the next. The real magic is to understand which words work, and when, and for what. The trick is to learn the trick.' Too clever by half.
I wonder if it is too bawdy to be post-modern, whatever that means. Writing about writing isn't necessarily meta-; Then everything would be meta. Chimera is silly fun so far. Just upgraded to a four-star review. There's enough brilliance about aging and storytelling to ward off criticisms about the interludes of a character who is a 20th Century writer. Here, again, Barth shows himself to be the great postmodern experimentalist that he is.
Chimera is a set of three novellas, each a pseudo-retelling of a myth (if one counts Scheherazade's narration of the Thousand and One Nights as a myth). (Why a pseudo-retelling? Well, as Barth makes clear, the nature of myths is that there's no Ur-myth; all myth is Form, no myth is Ideal.) These novellas are narrated by Dunyazade, Perseus, and Bellerophon respectively, but then also they're regularly broken i Here, again, Barth shows himself to be the great postmodern experimentalist that he is. Chimera is a set of three novellas, each a pseudo-retelling of a myth (if one counts Scheherazade's narration of the Thousand and One Nights as a myth). (Why a pseudo-retelling? Well, as Barth makes clear, the nature of myths is that there's no Ur-myth; all myth is Form, no myth is Ideal.) These novellas are narrated by Dunyazade, Perseus, and Bellerophon respectively, but then also they're regularly broken into by Barth in the form of one or another shape-shifter. Barth's intrusions, and the narrators' reactions to them, make this tripartite text complex to the point of incomprehension.
Consider: Author-Barth writes the novella 'Bellerophoniad' in which Barth assumes the role of shape-shifter/seer Polyeidus who transmogrifies, via a deus ex machina, Bellerophon's lived biography into a text called the 'Bellerophoniad' which is what Barth has written, which makes Barth God (even though he, Barth, defers to Zeus et al. Throughout) and no one the narrator. Barth discloses his belief that words are magical and, again and again, seeks to make the word real, to reconnect signified and signifier, an artificer who wants to make fiction into truth.
Here, too, he's coping with turning forty and writer's block (his novel LETTERS was resisting being written) and wanting to become immortal like his characters. And if this sounds like it all a little too much, trust me, it is. I thought 'Dunyazadiad' was both brilliant and enjoyable and that 'Perseid' and 'Bellerophoniad' were interesting but not enjoyable. Which belies the reality of experimental prose: The experiment doesn't always return the intended results. Three, linked novellas. Each one smarter than the last. Yet somehow worse too.
The first one, the Dunyazadiad, is the highlight with all sorts of interesting ideas of modern gender dynamics as related to the thousand year old tales of One Thousand and One Nights. This is the promise of Barth's lofty ambition fulfilled. Then we have the Perseid. Again, interesting ideas here, and an even more clever reimagining of the myth of Perseus. But Barth starts to reveal himself more and more in the Three, linked novellas. Each one smarter than the last. Yet somehow worse too.
The first one, the Dunyazadiad, is the highlight with all sorts of interesting ideas of modern gender dynamics as related to the thousand year old tales of One Thousand and One Nights. This is the promise of Barth's lofty ambition fulfilled. Then we have the Perseid. Again, interesting ideas here, and an even more clever reimagining of the myth of Perseus. But Barth starts to reveal himself more and more in these pages. Too much overt writing without letting the story speak for itself. His blend of the mythic old world with the course and vulgar new world also starts to wear thin.
But overall, it's good with an altogether satisfying conclusion. Then, we end with the Bellerophoniad, the longest (unfortunately) of the batch.
And everything ironically unravels as Barth achieves perhaps one of the more well-constructed meta-fictions. This is the post-modern that I'm personally just not very interested in. The whole thing begs for attention when it deserves none. It deals out all sorts of statements on the nature of myth and archetypes, patterns, all that good literary shit that's fun to think about in small enough doses when one sits down to write, but much less fun to read about in a narrative. There are some bright spots, but I found myself reading just go get through it more often than not.
Chimera John Barth
The humor throughout is a mixed bag, with probably the best stuff in the Perseid. Barth's affected, mythic style is particularly impressive, but as I stated above, it does start to wear thin. Even so, I can see the unique talent and the thoughtful machinery.
I'd like to check out a more singular, traditional narrative of his (whatever little that means in Barth world) like Sot-Weed or Giles-Goat to get a better impression. John Simmons Barth is an American novelist and short-story writer, known for the postmodernist and metafictive quality of his work. John Barth was born in Cambridge, Maryland, and briefly studied 'Elementary Theory and Advanced Orchestration' at Juilliard before attending Johns Hopkins University, receiving a B.A.
In 1951 and an M.A. In 1952 (for which he wrote a thesis novel, The Shirt of Nessus). John Simmons Barth is an American novelist and short-story writer, known for the postmodernist and metafictive quality of his work. John Barth was born in Cambridge, Maryland, and briefly studied 'Elementary Theory and Advanced Orchestration' at Juilliard before attending Johns Hopkins University, receiving a B.A. In 1951 and an M.A. In 1952 (for which he wrote a thesis novel, The Shirt of Nessus). He was a professor at Penn State University (1953-1965), SUNY Buffalo (1965-1973), Boston University (visiting professor, 1972-1973), and Johns Hopkins University (1973-1995) before he retired in 1995.
Barth began his career with The Floating Opera and The End of the Road, two short novels that deal wittily with controversial topics, suicide and abortion respectively. They are straightforward tales; as Barth later remarked, they 'didn't know they were novels.' The Sot-Weed Factor, Barth's next novel, is an 800-page mock epic of the colonization of Maryland based on the life of an actual poet, Ebenezer Cooke, who wrote a poem of the same title. The Sot-Weed Factor is what Northrop Frye called an anatomy — a large, loosely structured work, with digressions, distractions, stories within stories, and lists (such as a lengthy exchange of insulting terms by two prostitutes). The fictional Ebenezer Cooke (repeatedly described as 'poet and virgin') is a Candide-like innocent who sets out to write a heroic epic, becomes disillusioned and ends up writing a biting satire. Barth's next novel, Giles Goat-Boy, of comparable size, is a speculative fiction based on the conceit of the university as universe.
Chimera John Barth
A half-man, half-goat discovers his humanity and becomes a savior in a story presented as a computer tape given to Barth, who denies that it is his work. In the course of the novel Giles carries out all the tasks prescribed by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Barth kept a list of the tasks taped to his wall while he was writing the book. The short story collection Lost in the Funhouse and the novella collection Chimera are even more metafictional than their two predecessors, foregrounding the writing process and presenting achievements such as seven nested quotations. In LETTERS Barth and the characters of his first six books interact. While writing these books, Barth was also pondering and discussing the theoretical problems of fiction writing, most notably in an essay, 'The Literature of Exhaustion' (first printed in the Atlantic, 1967), that was widely considered to be a statement of 'the death of the novel' (compare with Roland Barthes's 'The Death of the Author').
Chimera John Barth Summary
Barth has since insisted that he was merely making clear that a particular stage in history was passing, and pointing to possible directions from there. He later (1979) wrote a follow-up essay, 'The Literature of Replenishment,' to clarify the point. Barth's fiction continues to maintain a precarious balance between postmodern self-consciousness and wordplay on the one hand, and the sympathetic characterisation and 'page-turning' plotting commonly associated with more traditional genres and subgenres of classic and contemporary storytelling.