Conversation with Joan
about Of Bicycles and our fiction in general
From an email conversation with Joan Barbara Simon:
Joan
Good morning, Matthew!
I have a couple of follow up questions regarding your writing style and will feed them to you one by one. Could be that they overlap slightly.
In one of your works (no longer sure which) you say that “if you’re not writing experimentally, you’re not writing at all.”
I want to dig deeper here.
Are you saying that the purpose of writing is to be experimental?
What is is that your experimental writing is trying to say? What’s its message (if it has/needs) one?
Where do you draw the line in your experimental writing, would you say?
What would you say are the key experimental features in Of Bicycles?
ME
On experimentation:
I just think that the first Nancy Drew is more of a book than the hundredth one. If all you’re doing with a book is following the rules that have been previously set up by you or someone else, then there’s less invention going on — and less going on in general — in that book. It’s less of a book..a book being not just pages between two covers, but a challenge and a revolution of style and content (ideally).
By experiment I mean grow and change. If you’re not growing and changing (in books, in life) then you’re functionally dead, though you still may be writing and pumping blood.
So it’s not that I think experimental writing or living has a message, exactly, except: I AM STILL ALIVE!!
Where do I draw the line in my experimental writing? Well, generally, I want it to be possible for a reader to be included..personally I’m not trying to exclude everyone from reading my writing, by making it so experimental that it’s inaccessible. But I don’t mind excluding the meek and unadventurous..they deserve exactly what they put into the endeavors of reading and life..which is nothing.
The key experimental features in Of Bicycles are written in a single breath (all one paragraph); no dialogue; the characters have no names; intermingling of abstract poetic elements with concrete narrative elements; extreme stream of consciousness sometimes veering into unintelligibility; invented words; almost no plot; endless dreamlike repetition of the plot elements that do exist; narration that switches seamlessly from the main man character, to the secondary woman character, to a Doritos wrapper — all in the first person; emphasis on mood and the mood of the location as a plot element; wordplay in the form of unexpected phrases (like “making lovely” where the reader expects “making love”); and enough metaphor and symbolism that if they were grass they would choke a grazing zebra.
Joan
Sorry if this seems like a stupid question, but why is growth (automatically) an experiment (ie why are the words synonymous for you)? Maybe I still have an over-scientific approach to/understanding of the word..
I get you re: book as revolution and challenge.
I GET YOU re: the meek. One woman said Mut@tus sometimes gave her a brain ache. I said: I don’t write for the lazy or the stupid. It came out sounding harsher than I had intended and I think I offended her.
On Of Bicycles and one breath: what I sensed more was a tidal rhythm, a cyclical rhythm as cradle to the endless love that is being professed, an (almost) unbearable endlessness for the reader. Of Bicycles isn’t a long book but I needed to put it aside several times, I couldn’t bear to read it in one breath, not only because it was at times so beautiful that I wanted to savour the ache of beauty, but also because at times it erred into hyperbole (imo). You’re right; it would choke a grazing zebra *;) I’ll (have to) break it up, select (my favourite) passages for my blog and introduce them with excerpts from our conversation.
ME
To me, growth is an experiment because it could result in a new organism or failure. I guess I’m not using the word “experimental” like it is normally used in literary circles, but using some sort of a broader definition that I made up myself and am expecting others to implicitly understand — lol. Maybe my thoughts make no sense, but to me growth is a type of invention and invention is a type of experiment. ?? I’m not sure. And btw I certainly don’t claim that all the experimental aspects of, say, Of Bicycles, are original..I’m sure you know that.
Joan
Growth as invention..now, there’s an idea. That means it’s not natural, right..?
Is growth the same as progress to you? Just thinking off the top of my head..
Growth can lead to failure..oh yes! But then there’s no “progress” involved, or is there? Just thinking off the top of my head..
Art makes me disbelieve in progress; you can’t speak about art getting better across time.
ME
“Art makes me disbelieve in progress; you can’t speak about art getting better across time.”
That’s fucking brilliant.
And since I haven’t cussed enough today, it’s thought provoking as hell.
I hadn’t thought of the language in Of Bicycles as hyperbole but more ecstaticism..but yes, yes, it’s out of reach, unbelievable, impossible, unreal..that’s how I see it anyway. Hopefully the hyperbole isn’t laughable!! *grin
Joan
Laughable, no. Irritating sometimes, tho.
And yes, you may quote me if you wish.
*:)
ME
Ok, I’m quoting you.
Why was it irritating? It was immature? The unrealism? Or just the hyperbole, just the overstatement.
Interested in your thoughts.
Joan
I felt it deflated the crest I was on up to that point. I’d have to go back and find a few examples before I can be more specific, Matthew, but not this weekend :)
ME
That’s helpful..I know what you mean generally.
To an enjoyable weekend =)
And then, more from ME:
If you want to pause or discontinue this conversation, please do, but I want to say this, because this might account for some of what you’re talking about:
The book actually has 30 chapters of the same length (1667 words) separated by 30 5–7-line poetic interludes. It starts with an interlude, ends with a chapter, and alternates between them throughout. Each chapter regards a coherent concept. When you encounter a poetic interlude, it should hit you over the head like a hammer. And that does deflate momentum in some cases. Maybe there are other cases where I am accidentally deflating momentum also..I’m not sure.
Just thought I’d mention this.
I’m in a funk today. I’m going to nap for a while.
Love ya.
Joan
Feeling any better today? I didn’t mean to pull you down with my comments on Of Bicycles. I just want to be honest about what I feel. We know the merits of our own work. What we need is a (well-meaning) critical eye so we re-evaluate our art.
Your poetic interludes remind me of passages in Verses Nature. I’m not sure which book they’re in. Could be Vol.2. What a coincidence!
Still thinking about your interpretation of experiment and growth. So you agree that art undoes the notion of progress? Do your books get BETTER, Matthew???
Feeling cheeky *;)
ME
Just a quick note: you didn’t pull me down — I love the critical eye and it’s not personal for me.
I was just grumpy yesterday because of static between me and my mom and tooth pain. I woke up early today in a whole different mood!
More later..
Do my books get better? If I had to answer in one word, I’d say: No!
What would you say about yours?
Joan
My books give a glimpse of various directions of (literary and/or personal) interrogation. I don’t think one can say that art gets better so I can’t say that my books get better, but they instantiate a literary “evolution.” Sounds like I’m trying to split hairs? I’ve long been struggling with concepts/models of growth, especially in my role as researcher in education. Growth is generally associated with something getting bigger without losing any of its former properties. Evolution I associate with something mutating into a new form (I try not to give a qualitative evaluation of better/worse); a development which I try to disassociate from a notion of progress. All my books are different; they evolve, which is not to say they get better. Long Time Walk on Water is my favourite. It is a book for eternity. Versus Nature is at least just as good. It is written in a totally different style. You can’t compare the two, written six years apart, and say one is better than the other; you can merely say what your preferences are.
And then, more from Joan:
Actually, Matthew, it’s not quite true what I said about the time interval between Long Time and Versus Nature.
Versus Nature is my very first book. I’ve been carrying it around in me for over a quarter of a century, but I knew I couldn’t rise to the challenge; knew I’d need to gather a lot more experience before I’d be ‘ready’ for the book. There’s another word for us to throw into the discussion: maturation. In The Red Room, which I published as a form of business card and portfolio to showcase my literary styles, there is a foretaste of Versus Nature in the story called Carmina’s Burana. The Red Room also showcases Long Time and Mut@tus. So, you see, I was working on all three books at the same time, but brought them out at different times, because I needed more life (and possibly more ache) to be able to write Versus Nature as I did.
At the moment I feel empty. Versus Nature — and the thesis in general — cost me everything. I will need some time before I write another work of fiction, but I have dozens of educational titles up my sleeve. At least twenty, I would say. I want to give away some of this for free, on my education blog, but I also want to promote some of these titles as part of online courses I plan to offer next year. Can’t see myself returning to university. I need a higher degree of autonomy than any university can ever accord me. Besides, I’m a writer, I’m an artist, not an academic, not their type of academic. I’m too old, too stubborn and too tired to put up with these people any more *;)
ME
I get that. I get all of that.
Joan
Like you, I have few people whom I can talk to about fiction in general. This situation motivated the comment in Mut@tus:
“Thank goodness for my pen, that I may people my world with faces that do not turn away when I show mine.”
Fiction is everything I live for, Matthew. It is the only reason why I was put on this planet this time round. It is what I have been ordained to give. When I completed Versus Nature, I felt; ok, mission accomplished. You can leave now. I may well produce other works before I go, but I know I won’t (necessarily) produce anything better. As I said to X (who refused to comment): maybe my best work(s) can only be written once I’m dead and there’s nothing to get in the way.
ME
Feeling better today. Less tooth pain. I have to admit I’m a little out of sorts the last 2–3 days with lots of thoughts I’m having but I want to re-emphasize that it’s not because of your critique — which I love and put on my website — please keep those coming. Honest critique from someone who knows what they’re talking about is rare..I take it as gold from you.
Just ordered Long Time from Amazon!
Joan
Glad to hear you’re feeling better, Matthew.
Long Time is my pride and joy. You’ll see a Joan you haven’t seen yet, I think. Hope you can handle the patois. It might seem hard at first but you’ll get into it.
Some writers are super touchy. It makes it hard to really talk to them in an honest, spontaneous way. It is never my intention to hurt anyone but if we can’t say what we really think, what’s the point of talking at all?
Hugs,
ME
Yeah, exactly =) Please, give me your real thoughts. Not only can I handle them — I relish them!!
Can’t wait for your book!!!
Joan
We always tend to think that others can see what we can see but this is not true and no matter how well, or how often we try to explain, there is always something missing..
ME, on the previous subject:
I hope you won’t let anything get in your way; you don’t seem to be.
I wonder if X understands your philosophical and literary angles well enough to comment. I’m totally speculating from afar, but that’s the first thing that came to mind reading your email..maybe X just didn’t “get it” well enough to say anything on those axes. ?? Idk. You do have complex thoughts, Joan, complex ideas about what literature is, what it can do, how it is constructed. I think I follow you, though. But, like you, I also live to think about fiction. Have since high school. It’s just in our blood.
Joan
I don’t want to write about my philosophy of language, I want to live it in my fiction. My fiction is my philosophy made flesh..
ME
“Fiction is..philosophy made flesh.” Brilliant statement. I like that reason to prefer fiction to academics as well — though obviously I’ve spent less time sampling academia than you. I absolutely think certain topics are formed best as philosophy books and essays and papers and statements. But the made flesh part, as you put it so well, seems more lifelike to me..philosophy is like distilled water while fiction is like the water inherent in a fruit, perhaps — I’m getting my water by eating an apple, but I’m getting so much more of the whole truth of life with an apple. Texture of strawberry seeds. Flavor of a pineapple. Pulp of a grapefruit. And the water is still there, it’s just delivered in such an exquisite and such a more whole way than in a bottle labeled Voss. I love to read my stray favorite few philosophers — especially to decipher Foucault and Derrida — and I love my straight-up William James — and I love brilliant, mad Nietzsche — and others — but who can compete with The Old Man and the Sea? Maybe it’s less philosophy, more flesh, but I love that mix the most, maybe because in real life philosophy seems to come mixed with so much flesh..the philosophy of a relationship is wrapped in so much more flesh. Life is not a classroom in a school. Life is a classroom in a street, or in the woods, or in a field, or in a job..all that flesh of getting along with people..where at its kernel is undoubtable philosophy, that life is filled with so much smelling and shaking hands and going out for drinks and playing pool and fucking and looking in eyes and driving and changing lanes and just trying to avoid an accident. So I love the way you say this.
Joan, I relish my conversations with you.
