A Million Decisions
March 22nd, 2007“Have you never made sense of something after the event?”
Jim was getting exasperated again.
George was peering too intently at the text.
“Just leave it!” Jim man barked at him. “I know what you are thinking. No need to say it. Is it only good if it makes linear sense? If I put it in the right order, would that make you comfortable? Never mind the kick’ you get when a connection dawns on you - out of sequence. Get it?”George indicated he didn’t.
“Well, then. I am not going to explain. Watch!”
So begins the twelfth subsection, entitled Les Reflections Dans L’Oeil d’un Chien: Or, How I learnt French to Please My Daddy (wtf?), of the second main section of the wiki-novel. For those of you who haven’t mastered its structure, the novel is broken down into seven discrete sections, plus one additional section that incorporates the more bizarre elements of this collaborative project (the ‘Banana version‘, the ‘Choose Your Own Adventure version‘, etc). Having said that, it seems unfair to single out one part of the book that’s weirder than the others. But you can see for yourself what I mean.
The quote with which I’ve begun seems apposite because it captures two aspects of the book that have really stood out: a) the question of linearity b) the way that the wiki-novel seems so often to be about the wiki-novel. You could justifiably call much of it a meta-narrative.
I know I said this in one of my earlier posts but the whole thing about us thinking it would be a linear book and everyone else telling us that it wouldn’t be, then us secretly getting all high and mighty about it, then realizing we were wrong, is actually pretty important. In fact, what was most successful about this project was its use of the wiki format as a space for a jointly authored text, though the writing isn’t half bad in places. When Jeremy first told me about what he had in mind, I was like, ‘OK, but I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You need to find someone smarter.’ And to be completely honest I don’t think I really understood what the project was about until about half way through, and even then - or now, for that matter - I may not completely get it.
The book, which is now fossilized, is unlike anything I’ve read before. The original first sentence - “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day” - is, as some of you will doubtless have recognized, the opening sentence of Jane Eyre. I suggested it (and got my way) because it was vague, un-prescriptive, and carried some serious cultural weight. I wonder whether this was at some level the reason for Carlo’s (remember him?) disability. I’m trying to remember off-hand if he was depressed and disabled or both, but in any case there was, for poor Carlo, no possibility of taking a walk that day.
There are countless examples in literature of books in which the sum of the parts is greater than the whole. The wiki-novel is one such case (though naturally I’m a bit nervous about making any claims for its being literature, at least in the whole mind of Europe sense of the word). There are classic themes here: love, death, sex, loneliness, friendship, animosity, creativity, social justice, violence and so on. I don’t think any of these are explored in much depth, but then that’s not exactly what you’d expect from a book like this. I’d like to say that I expected range without substance, but I’d be lying: I didn’t know and couldn’t guess what people would write. Now it seems obvious. When 1500 people set out to write a work of fiction, bringing 1500 people’s worth of experience, perspective, grievances and proclivities this project was never going to be anything if not multitudinous, international and epic.
I’d like to think that the wiki-novel in the end was self-referential rather than solipsistic. There are some great jokes (or ‘comic moments’ may be a better way of putting it) in it about the process itself, which again brings us back to that old chestnut: the triumph of form over content. And this, I guess, is what people will say in the end: that it was an interesting experiment, shame about the writing. They will be neither right nor wrong. No, a community probably can’t write a novel, but I don’t think the question (which we posed, I concede) is of much use to anyone, especially since the words ‘community’ and ‘novel’ don’t cut much ice in a situation like this (PS. See Steven Poole’s book Unspeak published last year if you want to see that annoying word, community,’ ripped to shreds.). Speaking of lessons not learned: the wiki-novel did not teach us either that a bunch of hacks with computers can all go write something on the same website. No, what’s been shown is that a bunch of strangers with both nothing to lose and nothing to gain worked toward a nebulous common goal. I guess its she sheer benevolence on display that amazed me most. Well done to all of you. Thanks for writing.
Jon Elek
