In Nicholson Baker's The Mezzanine, the narrator Howie talks about the most everyday objects and actions, but with so much detail that it provokes a lot of thinking about routines and items we easily dismiss as trivial (such as shoelace tying, or plastic bags). The things he thinks and does in both the present and the past, are recorded into a short "novella" of the most peculiar yet fascinating string of ideas.
Whether it's Howie talking about how he can't pee when other men are near him in urinals, or his philosophy on brushing tongues as well as teeth, he manages to arrive at that idea from a series of other almost-random thoughts, that are still, oddly, connected. Almost like a train from Champaign to Chicago. Looking at a small town and then at the bursting city of Chicago many miles away, there's almost no reasonable connection; but, taken stop by stop, the way from Champaign to Chicago really isn't that complicated. I feel like that's what Baker really accomplished overall in his novel in so many different aspects. An escalator ride really isn't complicated, but when you factor in all the thoughts that go through your head, or the many people riding up it and what their individual stories are, it can go from being a dull, quotidian factor of life, to having an international feeling, or spanning over decades of thoughts and experiences. Similarly, we don't spare a thought about tying our shoes, yet how many hands the shoelace has gone through, and where the material was constructed, and over which sea it travelled, and so much more, can be a captivating thought if we only had the interest and time to spend analyzing all the amazing things that we take for granted in our daily lives. However, now I'm starting to sound like Baker himself, and this isn't even a footnote, so I'll end with the digression. By reading and experiencing another person's no-shame thought processes, I felt relieved by the fact that I'm not the only one that has a very strange train of thought that speeds around quickly and stops at peculiar stations. For example, I sometimes come up with nicknames for friends. My thought process was as follows:
Nolan --> Nol --> Knoll --> Hill, so his name became Hill.
Berl --> Pearl --> Oyster --> Ocean
Newman --> Paul Newman --> Cool Hand Luke --> Eggs (the egg scene in that movie is very memorable!)
etc. Taken step by step, like Nicholson Baker does in his verbose footnotes that jump around from idea to idea, the names are understandable (if not their purpose, but their derivation). Maybe that's why I associated so much with his writing style and found the novel very entertaining.
The Mezzanine had me chuckling quite often, especially in the prolix footnotes (especially when talking about footnotes in the footnotes, or Howie's envisioning sheep as workers sent out to put him to sleep (FAVORITE PART), or his discussion of bathroom etiquette). Baker/his character Howie wrote about many things that would be considered private or awkward for conversation, let alone published, but he wrote about them in a way that makes them comic and almost acceptable, and I was captivated by his enthusiasm.
Anyways, these were my thoughts on the The Mezzanine, can't wait for more in-class discussion!
OH also, a question for the male population: do guys actually say "oop" instead of "oops" when they're with other males, or was this just an 80s thing...?
Whether it's Howie talking about how he can't pee when other men are near him in urinals, or his philosophy on brushing tongues as well as teeth, he manages to arrive at that idea from a series of other almost-random thoughts, that are still, oddly, connected. Almost like a train from Champaign to Chicago. Looking at a small town and then at the bursting city of Chicago many miles away, there's almost no reasonable connection; but, taken stop by stop, the way from Champaign to Chicago really isn't that complicated. I feel like that's what Baker really accomplished overall in his novel in so many different aspects. An escalator ride really isn't complicated, but when you factor in all the thoughts that go through your head, or the many people riding up it and what their individual stories are, it can go from being a dull, quotidian factor of life, to having an international feeling, or spanning over decades of thoughts and experiences. Similarly, we don't spare a thought about tying our shoes, yet how many hands the shoelace has gone through, and where the material was constructed, and over which sea it travelled, and so much more, can be a captivating thought if we only had the interest and time to spend analyzing all the amazing things that we take for granted in our daily lives. However, now I'm starting to sound like Baker himself, and this isn't even a footnote, so I'll end with the digression. By reading and experiencing another person's no-shame thought processes, I felt relieved by the fact that I'm not the only one that has a very strange train of thought that speeds around quickly and stops at peculiar stations. For example, I sometimes come up with nicknames for friends. My thought process was as follows:
Nolan --> Nol --> Knoll --> Hill, so his name became Hill.
Berl --> Pearl --> Oyster --> Ocean
Newman --> Paul Newman --> Cool Hand Luke --> Eggs (the egg scene in that movie is very memorable!)
etc. Taken step by step, like Nicholson Baker does in his verbose footnotes that jump around from idea to idea, the names are understandable (if not their purpose, but their derivation). Maybe that's why I associated so much with his writing style and found the novel very entertaining.
The Mezzanine had me chuckling quite often, especially in the prolix footnotes (especially when talking about footnotes in the footnotes, or Howie's envisioning sheep as workers sent out to put him to sleep (FAVORITE PART), or his discussion of bathroom etiquette). Baker/his character Howie wrote about many things that would be considered private or awkward for conversation, let alone published, but he wrote about them in a way that makes them comic and almost acceptable, and I was captivated by his enthusiasm.
Anyways, these were my thoughts on the The Mezzanine, can't wait for more in-class discussion!
OH also, a question for the male population: do guys actually say "oop" instead of "oops" when they're with other males, or was this just an 80s thing...?
As a member of the male population, I have to say that I do say "oop" instead of "oops" often (something I was relieved to find someone else did, and not just me), though I am not entirely cognizant of under what circumstances the "s" at the end is added or omitted.
ReplyDeleteI've pondered the oops/opp question every time I've read the novel, and I honestly don't know if I say either. When I almost collide with someone or almost spill something, I tend to emit something more like "whoa" or "aah!" But this is exactly the kind of thing that's hard to observe in yourself--the epitome of the unconscious utterance. (If any of you catch me saying either "oops" or "oop" in class or in the hallways, please let me know!)
ReplyDelete