The Recognitions (New York Review Books Classics)

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The what? The Recognitions ? No, it's Clement of Rome. Mostly talk, talk, talk. The young man's deepest concern is for the immortality of his soul, he goes to Egypt to find the magicians and learn their secrets. It's been referred to as the first Christian novel. What? Yes, it's really the beginning of the whole Faust legend…What can drive anyone to write novel...? He is creating anew, and as though he were a painter from those times: "I'm a master painter in the Guild, in Flanders," he claims, not a modern reproductionist. Dismissed uncomprehendingly by reviewers on publication in 1955 and ignored by the literary world for decades after, The Recognitions is now established as one of the great American novels, immensely ambitious and entirely unique, a book of wild, Boschian inspiration and outrageous comedy that is also profoundly serious and sad. Gaddis has blurred the line between reality and fantasy, and we are never really certain of precisely what is taking place. There is more going on here than is initially apparent to the reader, and this is a constant feature of Gaddis’s writing. If you happen to dislike Faulkner for his obfuscatory style, you will find Gaddis infuriating. Each new chapter is an exercise in reasoning and deduction: it is not unusual for main characters in a scene not to be named and for dialogue to be unattributed, with the expectation that the reader should be able to infer the necessary detail from clues in the context, and from the distinct personality and voice that Gaddis has imbued each character. This presupposes that the reader has been paying very close attention, and is able to fill in the gaps without exposition. Much of what occurs in this book, then, occurs between the lines. Take this wonderful description of Mr. Pivner, in a rush:

El tema principal es la falsificación, la falsedad en todas sus variantes y su relación con el arte y la creatividad. Desde la típica falsificación de monedas u obras de arte (incluso momias), Gaddis abre el foco y ve la misma civilización como una falsificación a gran escala. La religión, el arte, el turismo, la publicidad... todo está visto desde el punto de vista de la impostura, todo es vender humo a personas que están deseando comprarlo. Eso es la vida y la sociedad según Gaddis. No deja nada en pie. The ship's doctor is, in fact, a con man (a forger) masquerading as a doctor, the appropriately named Mr. Sinisterra (who continues to figure prominently in the novel) who cannot help Camilla.Eliot and Dostoyevski are the most significant names here; none of Gaddis's reviewers described The Recognitions as The Waste Land rewritten by Dostoyevski (with additional dialogue by Ronald Firbank), but that would be a more accurate description than the Ulysses parallel so many of them harped upon. Not only do Gaddis's novels contain dozens of "whole lines lifted bodily from Eliot," but The Recognitions can be read as an epic sermon using The Waste Land as its text. The novel employs the same techniques of reference, allusion, collage, multiple perspective, and contrasting voices; the same kinds of fire and water imagery drawn from religion and myth; and both call for the same kinds of artistic, moral, and religious sensibilities. Bosch's painting is also used to introduce the theme of existential meaning and purpose. Its watchful eye of God raises a question: does anything mean anything at all, if it is not looked at by God? Wyatt says, The old Aunt May who raises him is a hard woman, yet oh, she breaks one's heart too, "when she made things, even her baking, she kept the blinds closed in the butler's pantry when she frosted a cake, nobody ever saw anything of hers until it was done".

Since 1958 to 2013 Art and the art world has undergone significant change. Painting is no longer deemed as important, or as key an artistic medium as it once was; media, technology and the internet-of-things, apps, connectivity and social media are all impacting how we define and project ourselves. The masks we wear, consciously or subconsciously, are even more complex and multifarious. Reading The Recognitions is like wandering in a labyrinth, and around each corner there's a new revelation. One feels a little lost at times, but there are familiar sights. Can we trust our guide? Gaddis gives you the sense he knows the way...until he lets go of your hand...and pushes you into the darkness saying, dilige et quod vis fac. You must cling to those words, because that's the only thread this Ariadne offers - except for the follow up text message he sends: btw thngs fal aprt :-() The novel is set variously throughout Europe (Rome, Paris, and Spain are prominent locales), New England, New York (from Greenwich Village to Harlem), and Latin America.So, we can search out the allusions, and the bits and pieces directly copied from other writers. Our understanding is deeper, the experience is richer of course. But the new work stands on its own. There is music- In this Flamenco music [there is] this same arrogance of suffering, listen. The strength of it's what's so overpowering, the self-sufficiency that's so delicate and tender without an instant of sentimentality. With infinite pity but refusing pity, it's a precision of suffering. I listened. There is meditation- The Recognitions screamed ‘challenging’ from every angle. It is. The challenge lies not in following the thoughts of countless characters or placing the source of various cultural/religious references but rather not bothering too much about the same. This book is mainly made up of numerous moments, each bearing a significant thread to a central message. There are things which will remain incomprehensible and elusive due to different reasons for different readers, so going-with-the-flow worked pretty well for me. With a little concentration, a little acceptance and a little surrender, it was all akin to a sort of meditation. I was at peace.