Postmodernism In Literature
In conclusion, I hope you’ve gained some appreciation for postmoder —
Hold up; I’m just kidding. I won’t open with that. But starting with what seem to be the last lines of this article is actually very postmodern. Never heard of the term before? Then fret not; you’re at the right place. And if you’re already a po-mo (short for ‘postmodernism’) fan, then all the better! I’m confident you’ll enjoy the ride. That being said, let us begin:
In my opinion, postmodernism is the pinnacle of all forms of literature. For some, this might imply that it’s the last circle of hell; a painful culmination of a tedious journey through the depths of other literary classics. But to others, it might be seen as the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow; a glorious treasure that deserves to be placed at the forefront of the pantheon of all the greatest artistic achievements of humanity. Remember there’s nothing stopping you from being a part of the latter group, apart from your friends who’ll probably think you’re pretentious. But who needs friends?
These novels may not necessarily be the best, as art is subjective after all. But they’re definitely the most difficult to read and understand. This difficulty stems from the very definition of the term. What is postmodernism? The answer to this is open to interpretation, with different schools of thought contradicting each other. One of the reasons is because the definition hinges on another movement, you guessed it, modernism. And its relationship with modernism is not black-and-white; the “post” in the name implies many things:
- Postmodernism succeeded modernism.
- It rejects most of the basic tenets of modernism.
- And it exacerbates what it has in common with its older brother.
Thus, postmodernism is very similar to modernism in some aspects but the polar opposite in others.
A Tale Of Two Art Movements
What is modernism? Modernism believes that there is an objective truth, which, once attained, leads to progress. Pablo Picasso, with cubism, thought that he could better represent reality by depicting the subject from multiple viewpoints at once. James Joyce and Virginia Woolf, with the stream-of-consciousness novel, advocated the same by showing the feelings and thoughts that pass through the narrator’s mind. In politics, ideologies like fascism, capitalism, and communism came into existence based on their proponents’ opinions about how they could objectively improve society by eliminating what they thought was wrong with the world. According to modernism, a work of art has an objective truth, a meaning instilled in it by its creator. A notable characteristic is the self-consciousness of the process of creating art, leading to various experimental techniques that draw attention to the same.
This movement flourished in the early 20th century, up until WW2. By then, however, people grew disillusioned with the horrors of the war and grew more sceptical of modernism’s ‘objective truth’ approach. They refused to believe that there was a definite path or ideology through which society could progress. Similarly, a piece of art is not something special with an intended fixed meaning, but one whose interpretation is entirely up to the admirer. And thus, postmodernism took shape as an answer to modernism and was a force to be reckoned with, in the 60s. Andy Warhol’s cheap and reproducible pop art like Campbell’s Soup Cans and the self-titled album cover of The Velvet Underground & Nico never had any greater meaning; they were highly ordinary by design.
And because of the lack of certainty in meaning, not only are the works in this category tough nuts to crack but the discourse of the category itself is muddied. “Everything” comes with a caveat of uncertainty. And thus, the very “definitions” of “postmodern” are “postmodern”. And yes, expect a ton of meta self-references because this “genre” reeks of them. The overabundance of punctuation here is a nice segue into my favourite inside joke:
“Postmodernism” “means” that “everything” is “in quotation marks”
A Recipe For A Po-Mo Great
Alright then, even if the definitions are blurry, we now have a vague idea of the general movement. So what are the hallmarks of a postmodern novel that make these works one of the most idiosyncratic out there? Let’s start with the similarities with modernist works. The self-consciousness mentioned before with modernism is also found in its rebellious younger sibling. Except it exaggerates it to the point where the self-reflection takes centerstage. This doesn’t just mean breaking the fourth wall, but being intertextual and metatextual. In other words, the novel talks about itself, comments on other novels that came before, and thus, breaks the boundaries between the reader, the book, and its literary heritage. This inherently means that the works are satirical and playful, incorporating dark, cynical humour and irony. This sub-genre of ‘stories about the process of creation of stories’ is one of my favourites, and the Italian film, 8½, is hands down the granddaddy of this subgenre, at least when it comes to movies.
Fragmentation is another common technique in both of these movements. More pronounced in po-mo, this is brought about in many ways. These might include utilising a non-linear structure, making the plot disjointed in nature, or introducing multiple perspectives and/or an unreliable narrator. This circles back to the main idea behind po-mo: The instability of meaning and the lack of closure.
Now add a sprinkle of drug-fueled paranoia, or a dash of scathing attacks on late-stage capitalism, along with the portrayal of a fresco of larger-than-life characters. And you’ve got yourself a mighty fine postmodern classic in your hands.
Where To Start?
Getting down to brass tacks, how do you dip your toes in this ocean? You don’t want to run into a Moby Dick after all. So consider this your Pequod (Please ignore what happens to it at the end), and safe travels! In our case, Moby Dick would be none other than Thomas Pynchon, the reclusive face of this literary movement. His dense and complex novels are often the Holy Grails for many readers looking to conquer postmodernism. I was one of them. But after weathering the storm of words that was the first 50 pages of his magnum opus (considered by many to be the best novel of all time), Gravity’s Rainbow, I realised that I should probably quit while I’m ahead and just salvage what was left of my sanity. Although its synopsis would have you believe it’s just about a quest for a mysterious WW2 rocket, it is actually about literally everything else. At least it feels like it. In fact, when the movie adaptation of his psychedelic noir novel Inherent Vice was released in 2014, the common consensus was that it was an incoherent mess. However, the critical reception wasn’t negative. Most of the audience and critics knew what they were getting into and praised the film for managing to simplify the novel while still retaining its essence. And yet the confusion remains! So I’d recommend watching Inherent Vice multiple times before reading anything.
So what books should you start off with? Two, in my opinion, are great starting points: Slaughterhouse 5 and Catch 22. Both of these are relatively easy to get into and are very similar in some parts and way different in others. And no, I’m not just referring to their titles being of the [word]-[number] format.
The Postmodern Anti-War Power Couple
Remember that postmodernism grew as a response to WW2 and its effects on society. This meant that quite a few of these novels are set in WW2. Add to this the fact that these works came about in the 60s and 70s when the public outcry against the Vietnam war was in full swing, and what resulted were vehemently anti- war stories that talked about both of these wars. These two are such novels. In fact, both of these authors fought in WW2 themselves, so the emotions felt by the characters are surprisingly realistic, despite the absurdity permeating these stories. With non-linear structures, strong satirical anti- war messages, and pitch-black humour, what’s not to love about them? They have it all.
I’ll start off with Slaughterhouse 5, as it’s the easier of the two to sink your teeth into. Right from its famous “first line”, you’re introduced to the core concept:
Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time
The author of Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut, tells the tale of Billy Pilgrim, who fought in WW2. Captured as a prisoner of war, he was stationed in an underground bunker in Dresden at the time of the infamous Dresden bombing. He experiences the past, present, and future all at once. “He has walked through a door in 1955 and come out another one in 1941. He has gone back through that door to find himself in 1963. He has seen his birth and death many times, he says”. And thus, his tale is told piecewise, flipping back and forth between his life during and after the war. And notice why I said “first line” before? Because it’s not; that was the opening of the 2nd chapter. The actual first line is equally as famous: “All of this happened, more or less”. The first and last chapters are written from the perspective of Vonnegut himself, and he talks about how he came to write this very novel. Many novels have famous opening lines, but only this one can boast about having two of them. Postmodern enough yet?
Working as an optometrist, Billy survives a nasty plane crash and starts claiming to have been abducted by aliens who similarly experience time: all at once. Considering this story is about PTSD, it is sensible to assume that the aliens and their time-travelling shenanigans are merely figments of Billy’s imagination. However, consider the category this book comes under. The uncertainty of meaning and the freedom to interpret the story as we wish are core aspects. Vonnegut’s sincere tone makes its peculiar nature seem very logical and believable. The details are deliberately kept vague to allow for both interpretations. Thus, Slaughterhouse 5 is also a sci-fi novel, incorporating time-travel elements seamlessly into the otherwise quite realistic feel of the story.
Catch 22, on the other hand, has no time travel. Unfortunately, it is even more absurd and confusing as the story is fragmented and told out of order, ala Pulp Fiction. However, unlike Pulp Fiction, the breaks in time are not obvious and sometimes happen in the middle of a chapter. And there are 42 chapters! So, good luck keeping track of everything. The author Joseph Heller paints a hellish mosaic of an ensemble of eccentric officers in the US Air Force stationed on the Italian island of Pianosa. Some of you might already know the phrase ‘Catch 22’. This is one of those rare novels that canonised itself into the very vernacular of the English language. The titular ‘catch’ refers to a contradictory rule: Any officer who is willing to put themselves in danger (in other words, fight in a war) is considered insane and only has to report to the military doctor to get sent home. However, if an officer is able to assess his mental health by appealing to get sent home, he is sane and should continue his service. This type of illogical logic and circular reasoning finds its way in many places in Catch 22 and consistently frustrates Yossarian, the novel’s protagonist, and even the reader.
Instead of putting the spotlight on the usual horrors of war like in Slaughterhouse 5, Heller chooses to take aim at the Kafkaesque military bureaucracy. Many characters often find themselves in helpless situations as Heller effortlessly jumps between timelines, as if he’s mocking them for being stuck. One of the recurring plotlines is the ambitious and villainous Colonel Cathcart, in search of promotion to General, raising the number of missions that the soldiers are required to fly to complete their tour of duty. While being another source of endless vexation for Yossarian, it is simultaneously used as a ‘bookmark’ of sorts. Since the timeline is all spliced up, the missions don’t always increase. It jumps from 30 to 75 to 50 and back to 30 and so on. The constant reminder of the number of missions left thus clues us in on where we are in the timeline. This, along with the fact that each of the wide range of characters is vividly depicted with their own quirks and unique traits, makes it easier for us to recall characters from ten chapters ago. So while it might seem intimidating at first, Catch 22 is definitely a manageable novel. This is basically a comedy, and the humour guides you throughout. There’s a character called Major Major Major, for God’s sake. And of course, he accidentally gets promoted to a Major because of an error in “an IBM machine with a sense of humor almost as keen as his father’s”.
In conclusion, I hope you’ve gained some appreciation for postmodernism. You’ve heard the word ‘postmodernism’ so many times that it probably lost its meaning by now. Excellent! Remember: the meaning is never fixed. It’s all up to you.
