Okay, I finished Palimpsest.
About halfway through the book my interest waned. Either because Vidal shifted topics -- from sparkling tales of family and literary giants to plodding tales of television and politics -- or because I simply couldn’t sustain the same level of enthusiasm I had for the book during the first week. Or, because I sabotaged my own enthusiasm by seeking the opinions of others. I sniffed around the internet for existing commentary on the book and found John Simon’s bilious, illuminating critique. I turned against Vidal somewhat when I realized that he’s just as capable of fibbing as all the people he accuses of doing so. But I managed to sustain my doubts well enough to enjoy his skewering of just about everybody you’ve ever heard of up to the year 1964. I’ll look forward to more of this kind of fun in Point to Point Navigation, the second volume of Vidal’s memoirs.
Vidal on fibbing: to paraphrase, Vidal says that truth should not be sought in memoirs, perhaps even his own. Novels are the only place you can find truth. I suppose that means a writer’s mind tells the truth only through his or her own reflections, not through reporting “the facts.” This worries me because, as I’ve said, I don’t particularly care for novels (Vidal scorns readers like me). Reading fiction always makes me itch to do something else. Does this mean that my preference for non-fiction will forever keep truth fenced away from me? (Irony of ironies.) If so, I must learn to enjoy novels, but I don’t know how. I read Vidal’s Burr and thought it was okay but not terribly involving. I started Lincoln which everyone raves about, but I couldn’t get past the first couple of chapters. Tooting his own horn, Vidal claims that two of his early novels, The Judgment of Paris and Julian, represent major breakthroughs in his writing, which tempts me to read them.
Maybe I’ll try them after I give up on Wayne Hoffman’s Hard. Already this novel has set my eyes rolling a mere 13 pages in. The noise of Palimpsest’s crinkly cellophane library cover may have drawn stares in public, but the sight of Hard’s tawdry cover, showing a man’s bare torso caressed by his own left hand, makes me twice as self-conscious.
3 comments:
I have a bit of reader's block myself lately, and I, too, am trying to enjoy novels more... I'm glad I'm not the only one.
Hi, Jeff! I'm happy to see you here in my little literary salon manqué. I've been spying on your lovely blog, too.
I may have broken my own curse, because all of a sudden I'm getting more interested in exploring novels. For once I'm as good as my word and I've begun Julian. It's pretty enjoyable and even (*gasp*) quick. It sure beats the heck out of Hard which I took back to the library after reading ONE single chapter. I did not even want that book sitting around my house until the due date.
This spring I've been re-reading my third copy of Palimpsest, the first two copies lost to friends who asked to "borrow" it. I first read it when it came out in paperback 10 years ago, but I'm enjoying it more now. I chortled my way through the first 200 pages, but the political reminiscences are far less entertaining, no doubt darkened by the grimness of the emerging American Empire.
I started re-reading it after breezing through Point to Point Navigation. (Here is a good review of it.) You might enjoy Gore's comic novels, Myra Breckinridge being the most famous.
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