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
