Moving Parts

Hello Gentle Reader

The act of creation is both simplistic and yet haphazard. You can sew your characters or dolls, their clothes, which will become their marking uniforms, and their physical identification of their character and their traits. The tuxedo: for the groom who is about to sign away his stag independence for one of matrimony. A virginal white dress with a lace veil: for a blushing bride, for the happiest day of her life. A starched white apron, clear and clean of all stains, necessary for a maid, her tools being either feather duster or broom; while a similar apron would be constructed for the cook, but the stains from the spoons and mixing bowls, a permeant mark of the trade, and the kitchen.  White bow ties, imperfectly placed, go well with black coat tails, and white gloves that hold silver platters; such is the burden of the butler. Pearls and diamonds are for ladies; rubies are for gentlemen. Gold is preferable; but silver will work quite nicely. Push comes to shove, plate the ring with gold; just don’t stay for long. The tailor or doll maker, however always remains clothed in shadow, and faceless. The tailor or doll maker, is a creator, and therefore cannot be a character. This individual is exiled, and therefore lives and exists out of the larger narrative. The tailor or doll maker, is tasked with the creation of characters, to populate preconceived worlds, which can only maintain their brief independent duration as a world, when they are perceived. After words like soap bubbles, escaping the bottle or the kitchen sink, they drift away and pop, in a blink of an eye. A steady catalogue of the required characters, for every narrative, is always at the ready for a tailor or doll maker. Be the required costume for trapeze performers; an earring and a trench coat for a hobo; a provocative red dress to match, red lips and dyed red hair; the finest silk shirts for a business man. All this fabric, costumes, and clothes, must readily available to be distributed, to ensure the characters roles are defined, by their costume and uniform. If it is a tuxedo for a groom, he will be nervous and questioning his decision; if it is the bridal dress, she will beam with whitest light, on her special day, and so the plot must continue towards the joyous occasion; only hints of a later demise of the nuptials is insinuated in the last chapter; where broken dishes strewn around the floor, and a wedding photo’s frame is cracked on a smiling couple; and a suitcase sits ready at the door for departure. To oversee these proceedings; be it a wedding; or a circus tragedy where the nimble fingers of one trapeze performer misses the hand of the other, and so she plummets to mortality (as the removal of safety nets ups the ante); a narrator is called upon via contract. Who calls the narrator? Why, the author of course. The same and only authority figure, who not only watched the escaped soap bubble flee in the air from the bottle or kitchen sink; but actively encouraged its maiden flight; the same old author, who is quiet well acquainted with the tailor or doll maker; having a pint of beer with him now and then; and sending a bottle of scotch his way at least once a year. The relationship between author and narrator however, is less friendly or cordial, when compared to the one shared between author and tailor or doll maker. The relationship between author and narrator is one based on contractual agreements, and legalese laced documents, where the terms and conditions, and nature of their relationship are outlined.

As such documents state: the author is the sole beneficiary of the world, in which he has observed and fostered, in its adopted from, from its conception to flight in the air. Now an author cannot infuse his own voice onto this newly conceived world. To do so would transform the author into an authoritarian figure, and order would cease to move in an orderly direction, as the newly populated citizens and characters of this world, would continue to rebel and up rise against the authority and direction, which is influencing them. Therefore a narrator is hired and contracted with. The narrator is responsible for sewing the sequence of events and sequins of every characters past, present and future to their costume (as to do so, the tailor or doll maker, would charge extra). The narrator is also instructed and expected to perform many other maintenance duties for this world.  The narrator is to set the foundations for apartments; pave streets, and paint the grass green; as well as install windows. Yet these are just general repairs, and prop setup. The narrator’s main objectives and instructions are to always observe the already outlined narrative, which has been written for the world, and its subsequent story. The narrator is to introduce the characters, provide a quick understanding of their difficult or shared pasts; comment on their present situation, and guide them to their eventual destination; be it death or marriage; though one cannot discern a difference, at such a point. When all is said and done – the props dismantled; the paint cans disposed of, the sequins and sequence of events have been sewed in a crude fashion (but sturdy none the less); then the narrator may collect payment for fulling the contractual obligations, and the author may turn their attention away, to another project, and the narrator will move onto another narrative; while the tailor or doll maker’s sewing machine, has begun to already pierce and stitch a new costume. And so the cycle of creation, continues.

“Narrators have a fondness for details; they pluck them skillfully and with relish out of the background. The necktie tells them almost everything, while the eyeglasses merely reflect the external world, little than a fragment of a setting that narrators know like the back of their hand. Different profiles and faces are chosen far facets then for black sweaters; foreheads can be smoother, gazes milder, and this principal, let it be noted has been upheld.”

Creation, order, anarchy, and destruction, appear to be the themes of Magdalena Tulli’s metafictional and postmodernist narratives. Starting with her debut novel “Dreams and Stones,”; which was hotly contested and debated over, via its form, and its classification as a novel; when it lacked any noticeable characters, or plotline or storyline to speak of. “Dreams and Stones,” would later be termed a “not non-fiction,” novel; but reads more like a mediation or even a prose poem. The anti-novel of “Dreams and Stones,” would later become the introductory voice of Tulli’s work, which continually shifts around concepts of creation. Be it the building of a city; a mediation on the worlds found on the tree of life, often in the forms of apples; or the worlds which are pulled out of pockets and tumble out of our sleeves. In her oeuvre Magdalena Tulli, writes about the construction of these worlds, of these settings, as they are erected on stages, quickly; soon her attention would move slightly away from the simple construction of the worlds and the settings, and soon began to populate them with characters, designed and dressed in cardboard catalogue requirements, fitting their roles in the story; until began realizing her characters more and more, and gave them their own names, and their characteristics, within the world. Despite her work evolving, from construction, to population, and full-fledged concepts of a story, while maintain her postmodernist narrative, Magdalena Tulli’s strongest suite is her language, with her ability to create, and construct immaculate short novels, with the greatest prose, which is dense and falls heavy into ones lap. This is more often than not, why it takes a great deal of time, concentration, and patience to read as well as enjoy a Magdalena Tulli novel, to gather its full benefits.

A quick example of her prose mastery from “Moving Parts,”:

“In darkness of the subsoil the suns of the past summer afternoons are extinguished; transitory romances crumble into dust.”

The setting of “Moving Parts,” moves from hotel, to an old and rusted elevator shaft, into the cellars and dark catacombs of the hotel; to the rooftops of the city, and then a garden, to an apartment.  The only narrative of the novel, which is given, is that a helpless and hapless narrator is charged with narrating a story, about betrayal. However his characters and story grow quickly out of control and beyond his authority. In dark and comedic fashion, they rebel against the constraints, and begin to narrate rival stories. Much like the setting though, time within this story, often changes. From the Second World War, and the German occupation of Poland, the cold war, and then the Balkans war; and through it all, the hapless narrator simply tries to reach a resolution for his charges, and yet despite every resolution offered, there are new dimensions and new possibilities, which spawn from this attempt at closure. When a set of characters, are forced to flee their apartment, by the Nazi’s, the narrator makes himself at home; but becomes a character in another narrative, one in which his degrading humiliation allows the curtains to be closed. In his grotesque humiliation (perhaps at the whims of the displeased author, who has fallen asleep after another round of binge drinking), the narrator suffers being flipped over, loses his glasses, damages his noses, and his pants fall down, and his butt is swiftly kicked, and from the audience, in who witness this humiliation a paper ball is thrown at him. Perhaps for the author this is simply the reward of expectation damages, because finally, a resolution happens, simply because the pages end, and the sure enough, the narrator suffers and is humiliated greatly, for the pleasure of others.

Personally, I find Magdalena Tulli at the pinnacle of her powers, when she offers her own meditations on simple objects and how they may reflect or emulate the writing process. Such as her meditation on suitcases within the novel “Moving Parts,”:

“The nature of suitcases is such that they are both there and not there at the same time; the gleam floor already shines through their substance and it will remain in its place once the cases have gone off in the trunks of taxi cabs.”

With the addition now of “Moving Parts,” I now have all of Magdalena Tulli’s novels currently translated into English; a peculiar and wonderful achievement, which I am happy to possess.  Though currently, English readers of Magdalena Tulli, are most likely waiting for her two untranslated books “Szum,” or “Noise,” in English, and “Włoskie Szpilki" or “Italian Pumps,” in English. Both books, along with “Flaw,” have been called autobiographical for Tulli, as they deal with Holocaust (Tulli’s mother was a holocaust survivor), and the aftermath of the great atrocity of the twentieth century. Though it is to my understanding that the wonderful publisher Archipelago Books, will be publishing “Noise,” at an undisclosed date as of right now. Here’s hoping new information will become available in time.  

“Moving Parts,” like all of Magdalena Tulli’s novels, which so far have been translated into English, carries its own caution. It’s a dense, yet short novel, which rattles and clinks with verbs and nouns on a train called sentence, on the tracks of a narrative, on the schedule of a paragraph, conducted by the narrator, and logistically followed by the author. It is a novel, which is riddled with gorgeous metaphors, and explosive writing, translated expertly by Bill Johnson. Despite all of this praise, the novel itself requires a reader’s patience,  as well as concertation, to fully understand and appreciate the novel, and the writing contained in its covers, and on its pages.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

M. Mary