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Ben Marcus Twists Language Until It Bleeds New Meaning In His ' Age Of Wire And String.'
By Jeff Yanc
The Age of Wire and String, by Ben Marcus (Dalkey
Archive). Paper, $11.95.
LANGUAGE IS THE mediating factor between idea and expression,
the conduit through which perceptions of reality and the material
world are carried to the reader, whose own relation to this independent
text is contingent upon the ability to understand the culturally
shared meaning of the language being used. Now meet Ben Marcus,
whose collection of short stories, The Age of Wire and String
, reveals an author who doesn't want you to easily understand
his world or his language, but would rather have you contemplate
your familiar world through his decidedly unfamiliar perspective.
Part fiction, part prose poetry and part science manual, this
ferociously inventive novel plays such a head-spinning game of
linguistic displacement that the very concept of shared language
begins to seem quaintly outdated.
Using the mock-authoritative tone of a science textbook, Marcus
fashions a meditative rumination on the physical world and the
rigidly restrictive structures we place upon perceiving and articulating
our place in it, through language. Each section in Wire and
String is constructed like a chapter from a long-forgotten
high school biology textbook, complete with end-of-the-chapter
glossaries and term definitions.
Marcus' fictionalized textbook categorizes the world by chapter
headings, which in turn correspond to the vital elements of life
and society on the big blue marble: "House," "Society,"
"Food," "God," etc. So far, so normal, with
a pinch of gimmick thrown in for good measure. But the author's
intention to immolate American notions of culture, family, sex,
science and religion take a weirdly surreal detour via our shared
linguistic experience.
Marcus' pseudo-scientific descriptions of Earth and its assorted
populations give him the air of an eccentric sociologist attempting
to make sense of a world where everything seems wired to everything
else via language. He systematically recombines life's workaday
elements into a completely unfamiliar perception of reality. For
instance, he turns a keen eye to snoring and its effects on modern
living, using a seemingly random combination of words and phrases
designed to give the "impression" of snoring rather
than a definition of it. His linguistic alchemy manages to make
trite observation seem at once strangely unfamiliar and beautifully
descriptive and recognizable.
In so doing, he urges readers to question the meaning of such
routine acts: "Snoring, language disturbance caused by accidental
sleeping, in which a person speaks in compressed syllables and
bulleted syntax, often stacking several words over one another
in a distemporal deliverance of a sentence...it is often best
to cull the sleeper forth from static communication by responding
to its snores with apneic barks--sounds produced without air."
Throughout Wire and String, Marcus questions the foundations
of language usage in society. He subverts the notion that a person's
ability to fully assimilate a social system depends upon the individual's
ability to understand culturally shared definitions of reality--i.e.,
the definitions language assigns to objects and ideas. The nucleus
of Marcus' linguistic investigation is the following question:
If at its most basic level language is simply comprised of a series
of socially agreed-upon symbols used to describe things in the
world around us, thereby giving us a frame of reference by which
to evaluate what is "real," why not create your own
language system to describe life as you see it?
With that imperative in mind, he gleefully deconstructs the prevailing
language system, assigning new meanings to familiar words, and
inventing new words and phrases. Even a term as seemingly innocuous
and established as "eating" mutates into something strange
and complex: "Eating is an activity of archaic devotion in
which objects such as the father's garment are placed inside the
body and worshipped." His bizarre and creative terminology
is also pressed into service to make sense of seemingly random
patterns of human behavior; terms such as the "mouth harness,"
which describes his own concept of people's need to block the
intake of negative ideology that pollutes their minds and bodies:
"the mouth harness is a device for trapping and containing
the head. Mouths are often stuffed with items--the only objects
legally defined as suspicious or worthy of silent paranoid regard.
A claim is therefore made that we eat suspicion and become filled
with it. The harness is designed to block all ingestion."
Marcus' prose at times reads like poetry, stretching for sensuous
feeling rather than rational understanding. It is fiction without
characters or story. It also attains a level of dada-like surrealism,
filled as it is with weird non-sequiturs and the nonsensical,
sing-song rhythm of a Lewis Carroll novel. Yet the cumulative
effect of his rapid fire musings on life and language is one of
new understanding and clarity--the feeling that an entirely new,
crystalline perception of reality has been presented. By hammering
through the crust of language that gives all of our lives a shared
meaning, Marcus encourages readers to indulge in a little existential
freedom, to create their own definitions of reality and to view
the world from the position of the individual rather than the
collective.
The Age of Wire and String is a bold excursion into language
and meaning, and can be daunting: the book is as often confounding
as it is enlightening. It's not an easy read, as it follows no
logical pattern of literary narration. Yet it has all the makings
of a cult classic, a highly original and highly weird piece of
literary experimentation that echoes the innovative works of writers
like William S. Burroughs and Samuel Beckett, while maintaining
its own singular vision. It offers a thrillingly unique view of
some possibilities that exist for an infinite range of realities,
beyond the monolithically concrete definition we collectively
share.
Marcus proves himself a renegade philosopher/writer who twists
language until it bleeds new meaning, and in the process creates
a truly audacious and wholly original view of life and the linguistic
structures which give it substance. He articulates his agenda
early in the book: "The outer gaze alters the inner thing,
by looking at an object we destroy it with our desire--for accurate
vision to occur the thing must be trained to see itself, or otherwise
perish in blindness, flawed." In a book industry increasingly
dominated by convention and the next sure thing, we can only hope
that writers who dare to explore this inner vision will continue
to find an audience.
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