Forrest’s Reviews > Pollen: A Novel in Black and White > Status Update

What decadent novel would be complete without a hallucinatory manifestation of Lucifer's feminine aspect? It goes with the territory, right?

For all its cynical humor and wit, this book is definitely not a comedy. Even if it was to take a strong turn into comedic channels and stay there till the end, the laughter would always be echoed by a sense of sorrow and loss. The pain here is quite real, as we learn in the conversation between Daurimer and his father. The dialogue here is brilliant, even in its own darkness.

I sense that Marylyn is not nearly so innocent or naive as Lance thinks she is.

Lance Daurimer has me dizzy. I love him, I hate him, I pity him, I condemn him, I condone him, and on and on. It's difficult to say whether I like the complexity of the character or don't like the fact that he never seems to "settle down" into . . . well, into character. It's a delicate dance that Egan is performing here, a fragile thing. I'm intrigued, but a trifle worried. Dancing on glass tabletops . . .

There are moments, sometimes bursts of such moments, like pearls on a string, where Egan channels Wodehouse. This is particularly true of epithets that one character aims at another. The English have much better insults than, say. Americans. I think this goes back to Shakespeare, art least.

Hmm. In the last chapter, I thought Lance Daurimer was clever, cute even. In this chapter he comes across as a manipulative misogynist. I liked him last chapter. In this one, I most decidedly do NOT!

If Bertie Wooster had as much panache as he thought he had, his name might be Lancelot Daurimer.

Hmm. I love the pivot in POV to Marylyn's thoughts. I was not expecting that at all. It makes great narrative sense since she seems to have something for Daurimer that she dare not share with her beaux. Plus, her intoxication is better represented from inside her head than from Daurimer's or her beaux's POV. Well negotiated, Egan!

The banter between Lance Daurimer and Vernon Batty is quite good. It feels natural, but on very close examination, you can see the grammatical and metaphorical craftsmanship with which it was created. I wish we had more dialogue like this in more (post?)modern literature. Dialogue can be witty and baroque and yet still feel natural if the characters participating in it are both cynical and humorous.