Literary Cubism for the Twenty-

first Century

The world moves faster these days. From political campaign snippets to the latest teen idol (who is it this week?) to the rolling scenes of music videos, things come, things go, other things take their place and then they, too, go.

But literature, good literature, is meant for savoring. It lingers.Touches.Whispers. Long after the written words are gone from view, they continue to play music in our minds.

And herein lies the conundrum. How can twenty-first century literature be fitted to a world that moves faster, to a public who wants and expects an avalanche of enticement?

Literary cubism.

The Eleventh Edition of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines cubism as:

“a style of art that stresses abstract structure at the expense of other pictorial elements esp. by displaying several aspects of the same object simultaneously and by fragmenting the form of depicted objects.”

OK.

Hmmm…

The “same object” in that working definition is my story. The “several aspects” and fragmented forms which I display include poems, e-mail messages, personal notes and legal documents, to name a few. And, yes, there’s room and necessity for blocks of traditional prose in literary cubism.

Cubist writing is liberating. It adds to a writer’s toolbox for telling his or her story. We’ve always had description and dialogue to set scenes, build moods, and create consistent, compelling characters. It feels good to now have the text of an e-mail message to do any or all of those things. We also have poems, personal notes, grocery lists, and any other form of written media. They can all be used to great effect to show a lifestyle, to define a character’s motives and psyche, or to paint a relationship.

As I said before—liberating.

But as much license as literary cubism bestows, there are still “do not drive lanes” on this literary highway. Do not use incorrect grammar, spelling or punctuation (unless you’re Cummings “sketching” a poem onto the page). Do not use flat, un-interesting prose. And, whatever you do, do not let your focus stray from telling a good story. The grandest literary artistry is for naught if you fail to tell a good story.

Literary cubism is a sharp, fresh and consistently interesting method for constructing novels. Considering how fast our world moves today, how flashed and multi-variant our entertainment media and tastes are, I’m surprised that more writers don’t use cubism.It is an ideal structure for story telling in the twenty-first century.

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                  Poor Old Edgar Derby

            I’ve had readers accuse me of being an absurdist.  “Putting God on trial is an absurd premise,” they say.  “Having your characters debate whether heaven grants us virgins or whores is absurd,” they say.  “It’s absurd to make your central character a Jewish Muslim,” they say.  Oh, well.

            Picture my face filling the entire screen of your living room TV.  Now hear me tell you:  “My name’s Mohamed and I am an absurdist.”

            The fact is that I don’t feel the slightest compulsion to deny the charge.  After all, absurdism is a badge of literary courage worn by Kafka, Camus, Vonnegut and, more recently, Douglas Adams.

But absurdism isn’t an invocation of the absurd for the sole sake of absurdity.  Absurdism’s absurdity is a reflection of truth.  Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five has many elements of the absurd.  One of my favorites is the fate of poor old Edgar Derby.  In the bloody transgressions of a world war that killed 50 to 70 million people and in the immediate aftermath of the Allied bombing of Dresden, a bombing that killed tens of thousands of civilians in a strategically unimportant city of museums and churches, an American soldier named Edgar Derby is caught taking a teapot that isn’t his.  Poor old Edgar Derby is arrested, tried and shot for this transgression.  Absurd?  Vonnegut maintains that someone he knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that didn’t belong to him.  And therein lies the truth that informs absurdism.  In his Amazon review of Resolution 786, Charles Ashbacher cites a point of absurdity in the story where a senior military officer lectures people in his command on the unauthorized use of personal money to buy toilet paper.  Folks…this really happened.

Absurdism is not a slapstick skit.

Absurdism is truth offered on a tray of humor.

Poor old Edgar Derby.