In the life of a man, his time is but a moment, his being an incessant flux, his sense a dim rush-light, his body a prey of worms, his soul an unquiet eddy, his fortune dark, his fame doubtful. In short, all that is body is as coursing waters, all that is of the soul as dreams and vapors.
I have a confession to make : I have great admiration and respect for the talent of John Irving, and this novel is one of the finest examples of the heights his art can reach. But I cared little for Garp and his tragicomic life rarely moved me beyond intellectual stimulation. I had a similar reaction to Owen Meany, another BIG novel from Irving, which makes me wonder a little why I feel both stories are manipulative of the reader and more than a little conceited, while my favorite remains "A Son of the Circus".
There are plenty of answers between the many pages of the present novel, and of the novels within a novel included in the text, since Garp the protagonist of the story is also a writer. Meaning a lot of pages describe how to write, what to write, the publishing world, the critics, even the readers reactions.
There are so many themes (and I had a metric ton of bookmarks that I have already discarded) that it's a hard choice where to begin. I went with the Marc Aurelius quote both because it captures perfectly the way Garp looks at the world around him, even from an early age, as a post-graduate student in Vienna, and because it caused me an inappropriate fit of the giggles, given the fact I had read about the Roman emperor/philosopher only a couple of days before in another novel:
“I think you’re going to find Marcus Aurelius particularly useful.’ ‘For what?’ I asked. Nightingale hesitated. ‘Quoting, mainly,’ he said. ‘And thus maintaining an air of erudition and authority.” (Ben Aaronovich)
I don't think mr. Irving would mind my misuse his tone setting quote. First, because he also likes to mention other authors and books in his novels (Garp states that Joseph Conrad is his childhood favorite), and secondly because throughout the novel the tragedy walks hand in hand with the comedy. Garp becomes a writer not because he wants to become rich and famous, but because he has great empathy for the suffering of others, because he wants, with all the powers in his possession, to make the world a safer place for parents and children. He wants to keep the Under Toad away or, if that is not possible, to offer some consolation and support.
Would it ever surface? Did it ever float? Or was it always down under, slimy and bloated and ever-watchful for ankles its coated tongue could snare? The vile Under Toad.
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Another possible starting point is to go back to the beginning, to Garp's mother, and look at the novel as a morality play about the sexual revolution in post-War America. Irving himself mentions this in the foreword – that his initial subject was the way men and women drift apart, despite loving each other in the beginning.
In this dirty-minded world, she thought, you are either somebody's wife or somebody's whore – or fast on your way to becoming one or the other. If you don't fit either category, then everyone tries to make you think there is something wrong with you. [1]
I did like the militant / liberating part of the novel, especially in the context of a recent drift back in society towards intransigence and condemnation of 'otherness'. I could even say that I found Jenny Fields more likable as a character than Garp, her son. She's a pragmatist and a common sense preacher, while he is a bunch of nerves and contradictory impulses.
Jenny Fields discovered that you got more respect from shocking other people than you got from trying to live your own life with a little privacy.
After growing up in a college campus, mother and son go to Vienna, both to discover their abilities as writers. While Jenny Fields discovers the importance of opening phrases, Garp discovers decadence and alienation. Here are a couple of illustrative quotes:
That sentence [1] inspired others like it, and Jenny wove them as she might have woven a bright and binding thread of brilliant color through a sprawling tapestry of no apparent design.
and,
Years later, Garp read in a critical introduction to Grillparzer's work that Grillparzer was "sensitive, tortured, fitfully paranoid, often depressed, cranky, and choked with melancholy; in short, a complex and modern man."
'The Pension Grillparzer' is the first of stories within stories in the present novel and, according to Garp's publisher, to his wife and even to himself, the best he ever wrote. I tend to agree, mostly because it has something the rest of Irving's work lacks : briefness. It's a short story instead of a doorstopper. The other reason I love it is because it is a lot more honest than his efforts to impress either by shocking his readers or by clever turns of phrase.
"Liars and Criminals," Grandmother said. "Mystics and refugees and broken down animals."
"They were trying hard," Father said, "but they weren't coming up with the prizes."
In this condensed form is the credo of Irving's art of the novel. We are all terminal cases, but at least we get to try. The end is known before the start of the performance, but the show must go on. And a novelist is supposed to make stories better than life, to make them make sense as well as entertain. It's all a circus show with tragic clowns trying to get a laugh out of us, make us forget our troubles for a moment, before we have to go out into the night, alone. Writing a response to an angry reader, Garp the writer mentions this:
I am ashamed, however, that you think I am laughing at people, or making fun of them. I take people very seriously. People are all I take seriously, in fact. Therefore, I have nothing but sympathy for how people behave – and nothing but laughter to console them with.
In another place, as he grapples with writer's block, Garp rages against psychiatrists who oversimplify a man's personality. He plans to become a marriage counselor, but his wife Helen is unimpressed:
"You're a writer," she told him.
"Perfect qualifications for the job. Years spent pondering the morals of human relationships; hours spent divining what it is that people have in common. The failure of love, the complexity of compromise, the need for compassion."
That's because a writer starts by observing the world, digesting the information, even the one coming from direct, personal experience, before reorganizing it on paper. I do believe that the reason Irving's novels are a great 'imitation of life' is because he writes about the things he knows intimately – his own childhood in a New Hampshire college campus, his years of wrestling, his tribulations as a writer, his relationships with other people. The mistake most of the readers and critics make, at least according to Garp, is to use the novel to search for autobiographical elements. Nothing could be wronger.
Usually, with great patience and restraint, Garp would say that the art of fiction was the act of 'imagining' truly – was, like any art, a process of selection. Memories and personal histories – "all the recollected traumas of our unmemorable lives" – were suspicious models for fiction, Garp would say. "Fiction has to be better made than life," Garp wrote.
also,
"Christ," Garp said, "it sounds as if I wrote a 'thesis'. It's a f-cking 'novel', it's a 'story', and I made it up!"
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So, without looking for autobiographical elements, Garp becomes a writer, marries, has children, cheats on his wife, joins the Swinger movement ( "Oh boy," Helen murmured. "This is the last time I try to save anyone's marriage except my own." ) , becomes a feminist, then an antifeminist, experiences joy and devastating loss, publishing fame and hate-filled criticism – he is full of Life, for a while, and then he becomes immortal through Art. Who can ask for more? even if it's only a fictional character in a story?
Of course, 'The world according to Bensenhaver' is his most original, even if it is an X-rated soap opera – which it is. But it's so harsh; it's raw food – good food, but very raw. I mean, who wants it? Who needs to suffer such abuse?
As usual, it's up to the reader to digest this raw material and decide if it is abuse or food for thought. One of my favorite characters in the book is Jillsy Sloper, the unlikely proof-reader at the New York publishing house, the woman who reads because she must, not because she wants to escape or to be entertained.
If you ask me, that's just like men: rape you half to death one minute and the next minute go crazy fussin' over who you're givin' it to – of your own free will! It's not their damn business, either way, is it?
From Jillsy I naturally jump to Ellen James, a mute victim of rape, and another character I found more memorable than Garp himself. She refuses to become an icon for a radical movement, and only wants to rebuild her life as best she can.
I'm not an antifeminist! They make everything so black and white. That's why I hate them. They force you to be like them – or else you're their enemy.
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I didn't plan to end my review with these two clarion calls, but that's the way the dice rolled for this 'sprawling tapestry of no apparent design', this 'X-rated soap opera' , another BIG story from John Irving that I can now cross off my TBR pile. I'm not in any way disappointed for the time I spent in the company of Garp and his circus of freaks. I even think a second reading of Garp would prove as satisfying as the first, but there are so many more books beckoning. Even 'Hotel New Hampshire' at some point in the future.