Scan barcode
A review by scorwin
The Recognitions by William Gaddis
5.0
While the Recognitions may present as entropic at first glance – a fractured, anti-narrative collision of disparate characters, themes, and ethics – a governing set of egalitarian laws do indeed exert their force upon the novel. First or foremost is inauthenticity, a disease to which no one character (save possibly Stanley) is immune. While at times the author may appear romantically earnest in his fore fronting of the capital-A artist as the arbiter of universal truth, one doesn’t need a magnifying glass to see he’s far more interested in undercutting this notion with reckless abandon. In the R, Gaddis has produced a spectacularly angry novel, ripe with dramatic and lyrical irony.
This is where the contemporary bellwethers of the postmodern movement – pastiche, fragmentation, and disingenuity – come into play. While the artists (capital-F) of his New York dreamscape believe themselves to be members of the Ascendant Elite through their one-of-a-kind visionary creations, they are inherently acting out of self-delusion. One only needs to scratch the surface of their magna opera – whether it be Wyatt’s flawless facsimiles, Otto’s play, or Esme’s poetry – to realise that something far less original is hiding underneath. The author takes it so far as to implicate himself by stitching a myriad of unattributed quotes and historical references throughout the narrative; Ones that may ring a bell in the back of your mind and make you think “where do I recognise that from…?”.
Many reviewers ended their analysis here and critiqued The Recognitions as nothing more than a self-reflexive lampoon of the art world. If this were solely the case, I would write off the author’s worldview as cynical, too-cool-for-school drivel. Yes, he’s undermining modernist ideals of absolute ontological truth; yes, he espouses that anyone will compromise their integrity when the price is right; yes, he accuses religious dogmatism of being simply a thinly veiled means to a commercial end. But if you take the time to look a bit closer, you’ll realise that there’s another layer underneath. I stand in solidarity with Jack Green when I say “fire the bastards” – I reject those critics’ flat conclusion that his narrative goal ends at the level of pure satire.
In true, meta-textual, maximalist fashion, Gaddis hasn’t simply constructed a novel that is one or two layers deep. Midway through the novel, a brief exchange between secondary characters follows the discovery of an original masterpiece hidden under another painting, which in turn was hidden under another. This scene encapsulates the experience of The Recognitions elegantly in a few short sentences. If one were to wipe away the “worthless” painting that lies under the façade of the genuine Titian – the face-value appearance of the novel – they would realise that something authentic was there all along. While forgery, plagiarism, and double-crosses govern the World of the R, I hold in my heart of hearts that the author believes that true autonomous authenticity is possible and lies in the acceptance of the “cumulative self”. Everything we are is the amalgamation of everything we encounter, engage with, and absorb.
Gaddis is smart enough to realise he’s not the first to reach this conclusion – “I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me” – but has created something entirely original, nonetheless. Stanley, Wyatt, Esme, Otto, and Gaddis himself are all composites of their forebearers, both in influence and lineage. They’re linked into a chain of literary and artistic tradition, which comprises everything from adaptation, to transposition, to facsimile. That “transcendental” experience I was promised came when I realised, I was just another link in the chain. It’s in this moment of realisation that I’m left staring at a closed cover and a moment of literary beauty: This novel has become a part of me… it only took me 950 pages to recognise it.
#Gaddis21
This is where the contemporary bellwethers of the postmodern movement – pastiche, fragmentation, and disingenuity – come into play. While the artists (capital-F) of his New York dreamscape believe themselves to be members of the Ascendant Elite through their one-of-a-kind visionary creations, they are inherently acting out of self-delusion. One only needs to scratch the surface of their magna opera – whether it be Wyatt’s flawless facsimiles, Otto’s play, or Esme’s poetry – to realise that something far less original is hiding underneath. The author takes it so far as to implicate himself by stitching a myriad of unattributed quotes and historical references throughout the narrative; Ones that may ring a bell in the back of your mind and make you think “where do I recognise that from…?”.
Many reviewers ended their analysis here and critiqued The Recognitions as nothing more than a self-reflexive lampoon of the art world. If this were solely the case, I would write off the author’s worldview as cynical, too-cool-for-school drivel. Yes, he’s undermining modernist ideals of absolute ontological truth; yes, he espouses that anyone will compromise their integrity when the price is right; yes, he accuses religious dogmatism of being simply a thinly veiled means to a commercial end. But if you take the time to look a bit closer, you’ll realise that there’s another layer underneath. I stand in solidarity with Jack Green when I say “fire the bastards” – I reject those critics’ flat conclusion that his narrative goal ends at the level of pure satire.
In true, meta-textual, maximalist fashion, Gaddis hasn’t simply constructed a novel that is one or two layers deep. Midway through the novel, a brief exchange between secondary characters follows the discovery of an original masterpiece hidden under another painting, which in turn was hidden under another. This scene encapsulates the experience of The Recognitions elegantly in a few short sentences. If one were to wipe away the “worthless” painting that lies under the façade of the genuine Titian – the face-value appearance of the novel – they would realise that something authentic was there all along. While forgery, plagiarism, and double-crosses govern the World of the R, I hold in my heart of hearts that the author believes that true autonomous authenticity is possible and lies in the acceptance of the “cumulative self”. Everything we are is the amalgamation of everything we encounter, engage with, and absorb.
Gaddis is smart enough to realise he’s not the first to reach this conclusion – “I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me” – but has created something entirely original, nonetheless. Stanley, Wyatt, Esme, Otto, and Gaddis himself are all composites of their forebearers, both in influence and lineage. They’re linked into a chain of literary and artistic tradition, which comprises everything from adaptation, to transposition, to facsimile. That “transcendental” experience I was promised came when I realised, I was just another link in the chain. It’s in this moment of realisation that I’m left staring at a closed cover and a moment of literary beauty: This novel has become a part of me… it only took me 950 pages to recognise it.
#Gaddis21