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| Hearsay: |
Philip Marchand sticks a fork into the holy steak of Modernism. Conclusion? Overdone and undercooked. He takes particular aim at Malcolm Lowry, favourite Canadian adoptee and a god of Modernist fiction, via Under the Volcano, which one ex-prof of mine described as a “perfect” novel. Now, whether or not you think Lowry is Canadian (see, here in Canada, as I’ve noted, even though we’re prepared to abduct and/or expropriate any and all famous people who’ve even farted on the other side of the border and had their stench blow on a summer’s wind into the Great White North, Lowry actually spent significant and creative time here), you can’t deny that he’s been an untouchable. Of course, Marchand has made a career of touching the untouchables, to greater and lesser effect. Here, I wonder. I liked this novel when I read it, but it’s been years and years. Time for a reappraisal? (Note to NP Eds: was this article edited drastically? It appears to cut off mid-thought.)
That work, about a drunken British consul in Mexico clearly based on the author, is Lowry’s claim to fame. Admirers regard it as a monument of modernist literature, on a par with the fiction of James Joyce and Virginia Woolf. No academic or critic of note, as far as I know, has launched a serious attack on its reputation — certainly Canadian literati are not about to dismiss a certifiable genius whose most productive years were spent in this country and who clearly showed Canadian influences in such stories as “October Ferry to Gabriola.”
Yet the novel is one that many people confess they can’t finish. This is not surprising. “Modernism” is another term for “unfriendly to readers,” and Lowry takes pains to plant modernist signposts all over his narrative. At one point, for example, the author does a Joyce riff. Here is his protagonist in full stream-of-consciousness mode, complete with Joycean puns, after having conversed with a character named Quincy: “Old De Quincy; the knocking on the gate in Macbeth. Knock knock: who’s there? Cat. Cat who? Catastrophe. Catastrophe who? Catastrophysicist.”
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July 27th, 2009 at 9:18 am
I didn’t really see this as a dismissal of modernism or Lowry. He says “many people” can’t finish the book, which says as much about “many people” as it does about the book. Which is one of the best novels I’ve ever read.
July 27th, 2009 at 9:27 am
The knock-knock joke is actually kind of funny, in a ‘Llectual sort of way. But I agree with Marchand: the book is boring, Lowry/the main character is self-absorbed to the point of nausea (not the least because of the alcohol consumed) and in no way should he or the book be compared favourably with the work of Woolf or Joyce.
Mary
BTW, isn’t it “modernism?” Moderism sounds like something that old drunks like Lowry would flee from, not embrace.
July 29th, 2009 at 5:50 pm
Mary, you’re conflating Lowry’s words — “the boringness of Vancouver” — with Marchand’s
view. Marchand’s column is puzzling, veering from what others think of Volcano, to the core of the
piece: immigrants’ initial reactions upon landing in Canada.
As to the novel, Lowry’s masterwork is lyrically exciting, densely fascinating, hypnotically
astute. That Marchand, in commenting on a 350 + page novel, focusses on a few Modernist jokes, shows either
pettiness and/or a slapdash cynicism in getting the assignment in before the deadline.
Your excoriation of Lowry as a drunk is also morally skittish and a red herring. Artists don’t
have to be, and are rarely, saints. It’s the work that matters, not the personality or
perceived shortcomings of character of the author.
July 29th, 2009 at 7:41 pm
Brian, my friend, I meant to say I think the novel is boring. I have tried to read it at least four times and never got further than 100 pages in.
Whether Lowry was a drunk or not is not important: I agree “It’s the work that matters.” But I think his portrayal of his main character’s drunkeness is not interesting.
Obviously Lowry is a writer who doesn’t leave his readers indifferent. I presume you’ve read the interesting story in The New Yorker a while back which talks about his wife’s contribution to the work: the link is above.
July 30th, 2009 at 12:53 am
Thanks for the link, Mary. No, I hadn’t read that detailed account of their life
and creative collaboration.
Hmm… Marjorie was an encouraging, hard-headed editor in parts of Volcano. No
different than many other editors, even of similarly highly valued authors. She
“completed” “October Ferry”, yes, but it’s regarded as a much less accomplished
work. (And even here, many scholars supposedly valued the voluminous first-drafts
untouched by his wife, which never found their way into the final edit.)
We’ll have to respectfully disagree on Volcano’s merit.
July 30th, 2009 at 9:31 am
Hey Brian, check out this story about the effects of quitting drinking on writers. Most interesting.
Mary
July 30th, 2009 at 11:36 am
I thought I was somehow unable to view the rest of this article as I couldn’t find any serious criticism of the book. However, having an opportunity to give ‘Under The Volcano’ a kicking is good enough for me. I found it so turgid I had to give up halfway though and I almost never do that. I would say that the problem is that Lowry tries to write a novel in the mode of ‘Ulysses’, but with a personal, confessional, romantic edge. ‘Ulysses’ is such a masterpiece partly because it is impersonal, objective and unromantic. ‘Under The Volcano’ does not succeed in marrying two disparate modes. It’s like Kerouac impersonating Joyce.