Realism and “metafiction”

Two distinct groups of novelists responded to the cultural impact, and especially the technological horror, of World War II. Norman Mailer’s The Naked and the Dead (1948) and Irwin Shaw’s The Young Lions (1948) were realistic war novels, though Mailer’s book was also a novel of ideas, exploring fascist thinking and an obsession with power as elements of the military mind. James Jones, amassing a staggering quantity of closely observed detail, documented the war’s human cost in an ambitious trilogy (From Here to Eternity [1951], The Thin Red Line [1962], and Whistle [1978]) that centred on loners who resisted adapting to military discipline. Younger novelists, profoundly shaken by the bombing of Hiroshima and the real threat of human annihilation, found the conventions of realism inadequate for treating the war’s nightmarish implications. In Catch-22 (1961), Joseph Heller satirized the military mentality with surreal black comedy but also injected a sense of Kafkaesque horror. A sequel, Closing Time (1994), was an elegy for the World War II generation. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., in Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), described the Allied firebombing of the German city of Dresden with a mixture of dark fantasy and numb, loopy humour. Later this method was applied brilliantly to the portrayal of the Vietnam War—a conflict that seemed in itself surreal—by Tim O’Brien in Going After Cacciato (1978) and the short-story collection The Things They Carried (1990).

In part because of the atomic bomb, American writers turned increasingly to black humour and absurdist fantasy. Many found the naturalistic approach incapable of communicating the rapid pace and the sheer implausibility of contemporary life. A highly self-conscious fiction emerged, laying bare its own literary devices, questioning the nature of representation, and often imitating or parodying earlier fiction rather than social reality. Russian-born Vladimir Nabokov and the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges were strong influences on this new “metafiction.” Nabokov, who became a U.S. citizen in 1945, produced a body of exquisitely wrought fiction distinguished by linguistic and formal innovation. Despite their artificiality, his best novels written in English—including Lolita (1955), Pnin (1957), and Pale Fire (1962)—are highly personal books that have a strong emotional thread running through them.

In an important essay, “The Literature of Exhaustion” (1967), John Barth declared himself an American disciple of Nabokov and Borges. After dismissing realism as a “used up” tradition, Barth described his own work as “novels which imitate the form of the novel, by an author who imitates the role of Author.” In fact, Barth’s earliest fiction, The Floating Opera (1956) and The End of the Road (1958), fell partly within the realistic tradition, but in later, more-ambitious works he simultaneously imitated and parodied conventional forms—the historical novel in The Sot-Weed Factor (1960), Greek and Christian myths in Giles Goat-Boy (1966), and the epistolary novel in LETTERS (1979). Similarly, Donald Barthelme mocked the fairy tale in Snow White (1967) and Freudian fiction in The Dead Father (1975). Barthelme was most successful in his short stories and parodies that solemnly caricatured contemporary styles, especially the richly suggestive pieces collected in Unspeakable Practices, Unnatural Acts (1968), City Life (1970), and Guilty Pleasures (1974).

Thomas Pynchon emerged as the major American practitioner of the absurdist fable. His novels and stories were elaborately plotted mixtures of historical information, comic-book fantasy, and countercultural suspicion. Using paranoia as a structuring device as well as a cast of mind, Pynchon worked out elaborate “conspiracies” in V. (1963), The Crying of Lot 49 (1966), and Gravity’s Rainbow (1973). The underlying assumption of Pynchon’s fiction was the inevitability of entropy—i.e., the disintegration of physical and moral energy. Pynchon’s technique was later to influence writers as different as Don DeLillo and Paul Auster. In The Naked Lunch (1959) and other novels, William S. Burroughs, abandoning plot and coherent characterization, used a drug addict’s consciousness to depict a hideous modern landscape. Vonnegut, Terry Southern, and John Hawkes were also major practitioners of black humour and the absurdist fable.

Other influential portraits of outsider figures included the Beat characters in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road (1957), The Dharma Bums (1958), Desolation Angels (1965), and Visions of Cody (1972); the young Rabbit Angstrom in John Updike’s Rabbit, Run (1960) and Rabbit Redux (1971); Holden Caulfield in J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye (1951); and the troubling madman in Richard Yates’s powerful novel of suburban life, Revolutionary Road (1961).

Though writers such as Barth, Barthelme, and Pynchon rejected the novel’s traditional function as a mirror reflecting society, a significant number of contemporary novelists were reluctant to abandon Social Realism, which they pursued in much more personal terms. In novels such as The Victim (1947), The Adventures of Augie March (1953), Herzog (1964), Mr. Sammler’s Planet (1970), and Humboldt’s Gift (1975), Saul Bellow tapped into the buoyant, manic energy and picaresque structure of black humour while proclaiming the necessity of “being human.” Though few contemporary writers saw the ugliness of urban life more clearly than Bellow, his central characters rejected the “Wasteland outlook” that he associated with Modernism. A spiritual vision, derived from sources as diverse as Judaism, Transcendentalism, and Rudolph Steiner’s cultish theosophy, found its way into Bellow’s later novels, but he also wrote darker fictions such as the novella Seize the Day (1956), a study in failure and blocked emotion that was perhaps his best work. With the publication of Ravelstein (2000), his fictional portrait of the scholar-writer Allan Bloom, and of Collected Stories (2001), Bellow was acclaimed as a portraitist and a poet of memory.

Four other major Jewish writers—Bernard Malamud, Grace Paley, Philip Roth, and Isaac Bashevis Singer—treated the human condition with humour and forgiveness. Malamud’s gift for dark comedy and Hawthornean fable was especially evident in his short-story collections The Magic Barrel (1958) and Idiots First (1963). His first three novels, The Natural (1952), The Assistant (1957), and A New Life (1961), were also impressive works of fiction; The Assistant had the bleak moral intensity of his best stories. Paley’s stories combined an offbeat, whimsically poetic manner with a wry understanding of the ironies of family life and progressive politics. While Roth was known best for the wild satire and sexual high jinks of Portnoy’s Complaint (1969), a hilarious stand-up routine about ethnic stereotypes, his most-lasting achievement may be his later novels built around the misadventures of a controversial Jewish novelist named Zuckerman, especially The Ghost Writer (1979), The Anatomy Lesson (1983), and, above all, The Counterlife (1987). Like many of his later works, from My Life as a Man (1974) to Operation Shylock (1993), The Counterlife plays ingeniously on the relationship between autobiography and fiction. His best later work was his bitter, deliberately offensive story of a self-destructive artist, Sabbath’s Theater (1995). Returning to realism, but without his former self-absorption, Roth won new readers with his trilogy on 20th-century American history—American Pastoral (1997), I Married a Communist (1998), and The Human Stain (2000)—and with The Plot Against America (2004), a counter-historical novel about the coming of fascism in the United States during World War II. The Polish-born Singer won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1978 for his stories, written originally in Yiddish. (See also Yiddish literature.) They evolved from fantastic tales of demons and angels to realistic fictions set in New York City’s Upper West Side, often dealing with the haunted lives of Holocaust survivors. These works showed him to be one of the great storytellers of modern times.

Another great storyteller, John Cheever, long associated with The New Yorker magazine, created in his short stories and novels a gallery of memorable eccentrics. He documented the anxieties of upper-middle-class New Yorkers and suburbanites in the relatively tranquil years after World War II. The sexual and moral confusion of the American middle class was the focus of the work of J.D. Salinger and Richard Yates, as well as of John Updike’s Rabbit series (four novels from Rabbit, Run [1960] to Rabbit at Rest [1990]), Couples (1968), and Too Far to Go (1979), a sequence of tales about the quiet disintegration of a civilized marriage, a subject Updike revisited in a retrospective work, Villages (2004). In sharp contrast, Nelson Algren (The Man with the Golden Arm [1949]) and Hubert Selby, Jr. (Last Exit to Brooklyn [1964]), documented lower-class urban life with brutal frankness. Similarly, John Rechy portrayed America’s urban homosexual subculture in City of Night (1963). As literary and social mores were liberalized, Cheever himself dealt with homosexuality in his prison novel Falconer (1977) and even more explicitly in his personal journals, published posthumously in 1991.