Reality Hunger by David Shields is made up of 26 lettered chapters and 618 numbered paragraphs. It is Shields’ literary manifesto in which he decries the state of the contemporary novel, can’t understand why people think memoirs are all true when we all know that memory is fallible (Is an author really going to be able to recall verbatim a conversation with a friend at the age of ten? Sometimes I don’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone what I said to someone when I was ten or 20 or even just yesterday), praises borrowing/repurposing/plagiarizing other artist’s work, lauds the blurring of genre, and declares the lyric essay the literary form that is best suited to satiate our reality hunger.
Living as we perforce do in a manufactured and artificial world, we yearn for the “real,” semblances of the real. We want to pose something nonfictional against all the fabrication – autobiographical frissons or framed or filmed or caught moments that, in their seeming unrehearsedness, possess at least the possibility of breaking through the clutter. More invention, more fabrication aren’t going to do this. I doubt very much that I’m the only person who’s finding it more and more difficult to want to read and write novels.
It is one of those serendipitous things that I read this book not long after Josipovici’s What Ever Happened to Modernism? and the the resulting discussion about literary innovation. And it is interesting that Dorothy recently posted about contemporary fiction after she complained that she is often bored by it.
Shields has lost faith in the novel. While “plots are for dead people,” made me laugh as did
Is it possible that contemporary literary prizes are a bit like the federal bailout package, subsidizing work that is no longer remotely describing reality?
And while I too find a good deal of contemporary fiction to be disappointing and boring, I haven’t given up on fiction. I still have faith in the novel. And also unlike Shields, I do sometimes just want to read for a good story and be entertained and I don’t think that fiction should be thrown out on the dust heap.
While Shields’ book is interesting and has quite a lot of provocative things to say and much to ponder, I think what it all boils down to is that he wants literature to do a better job at representing reality and the form of literature that he elevates – the lyric essay – is his own personal taste. I love essays, but I don’t think they, or to a certain extent memoir, are the only means by which we can examine the reality that we live in. I don’t think the novel is dead. I think it is difficult for fiction writers to publish the truly innovative and this isn’t just a symptom of our own age. Virginia Woolf self-published after all.
Maybe more than anything, Reality Hunger is a call to shake things up in the literary world. Things are getting stale. Casual readers are abandoning ship for the internet and video games and Facebook. Whether being drawn away from reading fiction is because fiction is somehow failing or for another reason, I don’t know. But I think it is worth thinking about.
The way Shields has constructed his book is a collage of quotes from various sources bumping up against each other, speaking and arguing, contradicting and confirming. They do not make a coherent narrative or argument, they aren’t supposed to. The argument emerges from the accumulation of quotes. It is not a common way to write a book but it certainly isn’t new either. It is a if-David-Markson-wrote-nonfiction kind of book. It took me about 10-15 pages to settle into the book and figure out what Shields was up to. But after that, I very much enjoyed it and all the questions it brings up about what literature can and should be.
Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me I should give this book a try, even though I suspect I won’t like it much. But I think his ideas are worth grappling with, and I’m very interested in the genre issues, since I love creative nonfiction so much. I agree with you, though, that the novel is not dead and it’s foolish to pronounce its death (as so many have done!).
I really love your review of this, but I’m afraid the author might seriously annoy me. I come over all academic when someone talks about the death of contemporary fiction (and it is almost always the anti-realism brigade that start the fight – the lyric essay being the place of genuine reality, mon cul!) and want to see proper argumentation, and quotes and lots of back-up. When I’m in that sort of mood I get this dreadful premonition of myself as a really cantankerous old lady, and it’s to save myself from that vision, primarily, that I need to find just the right generous, open-minded place to read this sort of book from (just the sort of place you clearly found). When it next comes around, I’ll definitely consider reading it.
Dorothy, I’m so glad you are convinced to give this a try! Given his focus on the lyric essay, I kept thinking about you all the while I was reading this and wondering, what would Dorothy think about this? It might surprise you, and even if you don’t like it much, it will certainly get your thoughts whirling.
Litlove, LOL, you can take the academic out of the academy but you can’t take the academy out of the academic?
You know stuff like this is intended to get people all worked up but in the midst of all the exaggeration and deliberately provocative statements, are some interesting questions about literature. It seems to me there are more writers who are asking questions these days which is exciting I think even if I don’t agree with them, these things are good to ponder on.
It sounds as though he’s trying to be purposely provocative. If nothing else I bet he can get quite a discussion going. I’m not sure I’m the sort of reader he has in mind, but it sounds like an interesting book. Does he mention who he thinks IS writing good contemporary fiction?
I had to smile at this. I remember that in my growing up years Shorty (my Mom) would go on about how she hated fiction and loved biography and history. She would dismiss fiction as “just a story someone made up.” (Er…yeah, Mom. That’s the whole point.) But I could never convince her fiction was worth her precious reading time. Being introspective about my own reading, I have to say that although I love some contemporary fiction, I am – at heart – a vintage reader. Shields might just be picking a fight so we could get the conversation started. Good post.
Like many other commenters, I need to be in a particularly (and uncharacteristically) open and unflappable mood in order to enjoy this kind of deliberately provocative, manifesto-style book. I must say, I always feel like rolling my eyes whenever anyone declares “the death of art form X.”
I do think they perform a valuable function in spurring people to conversation, though, and it’s funny that your reading happened to coincide with several posts around the blogosphere expressing mixed feelings about contemporary fiction!
Danielle, oh yes, I am certain he is being intentionally provocative. Since most of the book is made up of quotes from other people I can only guess which fiction writers he thinks good. My guess is Coetzee, Geoff Dyer, Nicholson Baker and a few others.
Grad, thanks! Yes, Shields is definitely picking a fight, but it is an interesting one I think. That’s a funny story about your mom!
Emily, I think if Shields had written the book as a straight out manifesto, traditionally argued, I would have hated it. But because he borrowed/stole/appropriated thoughts and ideas and pieces of other people’s work to compose his own, it made it, for me at any rate, enjoyable. That my reading of the book coincided with several blogosphere posts was excellent and I think it also indicates that Shields is onto something even if we don’t agree with his solution.
It sounds like another pretentious tome. The trouble with reality is that it’s subjective. And why should a memoir be the absolute exact truth? Don’t you learn more about a person by the way that they want to be perceived rather than by the unvarnished truth? Come to think of it, what is truth? Try talking to eyewitnesses some day. I don’t normally like novels. I like mysteries, non fiction and urban fantasy, possibly because they wrap life up so neatly (and hopefully cleverly) in the end, unlike my actual life.
Yet another one that seems perfect to discuss with others. Thanks for bringing it to our attention.