Are You Bold Enough to Write Experimental Fiction?
So what kind of a person is Lord Rama in the grand epic
Ramayana?
He is an epitome of goodness and human ideals.
No one can fault him for any vice.
He is an astonishing example of virtue and up-righteousness.
He is the quintessential Hero.
And who is Karna in another equally magnificent epic, Mahabharata?
He is an exceptional warrior who is abandoned by his mother
at the time of his birth.
Even though he belongs originally to a noble family, he is
brought up by a charioteer and bears the tag of a Suta (a low caste) throughout his life.
And though good at heart, he joins the wrong side in the mother of all battles.
You understand him still you don’t.
He is the quintessential Anti Hero.
I am sure that by now, you have been able to see the difference
between the two types of characters discussed above. And the fact that the
later appears to be a more logical product of our age than the former.
This is the right soil for the birth of an experimental story.
The kind of anomalies which exist in this era together with
class struggles and the widespread injustice prevalent in our society – all
this is conducive to the rise of an anti- hero who is rebellious, unorthodox
and a born non-conformist, someone who fights against the established norms to
regain his lost self-respect.
In sharp contrast stands the traditional hero with his usual
luggage of moral values that sound neither credible nor practical. And his Mr.
Right image is so linear that it almost loses its appeal.
On the other hand, we have the modern anti- hero whose
character has a dynamic potential for growth. And his innate complexity and
unpredictability render him more plausible in the eyes of the reader because
that’s what life is.
Whether he is the product of wealth and power or poverty and
repression, he struggles for equality in a partial world and strives to ascertain
his true identity.
Mario Puzo’s Godfather
is an excellent example of the anti- hero concept where Michael succeeds
his father as the head of their mafia family empire despite his desire to lead
a civilized life with his girlfriend.
Initially, he plans to legitimize the
family business, but gradually becomes even more brutal than his father,
gunning for all his enemies.
Here, a new age man appears on the horizon with a different
agenda and an undefined role. And though you identify with his predicament, it
is intricate enough to defy any black or white answers.
It’s not surprising that anti plot heroes find their true
expression in anti plot stories. We discussed the design and structure aspects
earlier in one of our previous posts:
As the advent of science has challenged faith, man’s belief
in divine order is questioned. The conservative plot involving the known
beginning-middle-and-end matrix loses relevance here. This has subsequently affected
the old writing conventions which supported the predictable plots and
narratives.
For a modern story writer, the plot becomes less important
than the need to bring out his subjective vision to the fore which may or may
not confirm the reader’s opinion. Such a vision is individual, interpretative
or absurd in nature and more often than not, it challenges the customary standards of reality. It offers no morals as happens in traditional stories, only a
perception of multifaceted quality of truth as reflected in our contemporary
life.
Samuel Beckett's play Waiting
for Godot presents two characters, Vladimir and Estragon,
who wait for the arrival of someone named Godot who never arrives. There is no
attempt at detailed characterization. As for the plot, it is about two men
waiting on a country road by a lonely tree.
What is important to note is that there is no attempt at
driving a meaning here or bringing out the author’s impressive perception of
the world around him. Everything is subtle and implied. While for some Godot
may be an actual, living person, for others it may be an imaginary one. But the
writer does not step in to state the purpose of his existence or whether he
exists or not.
Since the story is so elemental, it is subject to all kinds
of interpretations. Is it about man’s futile desire to keep waiting for
salvation? Or is it the customary waiting for a messiah or God renamed as
Godot?
No one knows. But what everyone realizes is the sheer
brilliance with which this anti plot play succeeds in bringing the abstract vision
of the author to the focus which is against depiction of realism or any theme.
Generally, such stories have open endings which invite the
reader to fathom the writer’s true intent. I have written about this aspect in
great detail in my earlier post:
You would notice that such a story is
against any analysis or interpretation. So, the experimental writer projects
endless possibilities defying any attempt at single interpretation. While one
can appreciate the level of complexity, it’s difficult to analyze or perceive such
a work of art through one prism something that the traditional mode of
storytelling teaches us.
Bernard Malamud’s The Magic Barrel serves as an
appropriate example in this context.
It is about a student, Leo Finkle,
with a ‘scholarly nose’ and ‘ascetic lips’ who lives in New York. Leo decides
to hire the services of a professional match maker, Salzman, to find him a
suitable bride. The old man turns out to be a shrewd and bizarre character. He presents
a number of marriage proposals to his young client who unceremoniously rejects
all of them.
Later, Leo decides to go out with Lily
Hirschorn, a high school teacher, who according to Salzman, is a ‘doll’ and is
just twenty nine. But when he actually meets her, he finds her to be much older
and someone who is overtly religious.
Leo feels cheated by the matchmaker.
Frustrated, he tries to discover love for himself but does not succeed.
One day, he comes across the snapshot
of a girl named Stella among the heap of photographs left on his table by
Salzman. He feels immediately attracted to her. ‘He had a vivid impression that
he had met her before, but try as he might he could not place her… as if an
obscure fog had blown up in the mind, he experienced fear of her and was aware
that he had received an impression, somehow, of evil.’
Even Salzman does not want to arrange
a meeting between the two, saying, ‘She is not for you. She is a wild
one--wild, without shame… Like an animal. Like a dog. For her to be poor was a
sin. This is why to me she is dead now.’
But finally, Leo does meet Stella one
spring night, on a certain corner, waiting under a street lamp.
The story has a haunting end:
‘Around the corner, Salzman, leaning
against a wall, chanted prayers for the dead.
1958.’
So, what kind of a person is Leo?
A twentieth century man low on social
life, ambitious and vulnerable who ultimately feels loveless and unwanted. He
is a complex character with his own set of human flaws and it is easy to
identify with him as compared to larger than life personas that we encounter in
conventional heroes.
And what about the plot? Does it have
the normal beginning, middle or end?
Here, how the story is spun is more important than the plot or the
character. The journey of a lonely man as he sets out to find the love of
his life is more significant than the normal demands of design and structure.
And the open ending supports the tone
of this journey.
Is Stella dead since 1958? Is she some kind of a hallucination who Leo
meets that spring night? And what is Salzman’s role in all this especially when he claims that
Stella was his daughter?
The story is open to so many
interpretations that the options are unending and that’s what constitutes its
unique appeal.
Even though Bernard Malamud has
experimented at many layers with plot and characterization, the story still
succeeds in educating the reader without being didactic and the ultimate symbol
of love being dead as personified by Stella acquires a deep significance while the story still retains its credibility.
So that’s all about experimental
fiction for the time being.
In the next post, I plan to further
substantiate your understanding with some more examples.
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