Nicholson Baker's Distortion on the Experience of Reading
When I first started reading The Mezzanine for our class, I really did not have any idea why it was so acclaimed by news posts and critics. It just seemed to me like Howie was talking about the most inconsequential inconveniences for no rhyme or reason and random footnote tangents that basically take up entire pages that I just did not want to read. However, every long journey begins with a single step, and as I did start reading the first few chapters, I became so curious as to how utterly different this book was. It really has no plot, conflict, or clear character development (from the one point of view we ever see, Howie's) - it instead focuses all its articulations on constructing the most realistic and ingenious insight into a character's mind that I've ever seen in a book.
Howie is constantly drifting to different inconspicuous objects, thinking of what a wondrous useful utility it is and how it makes going about his day just the littlest bit easier, or how something makes him annoyed for the most pointless reason conceived, or if it instead brings up a comforting memory from his childhood and the loving, caring figures that taught him the things that made him the man he is today. One of the first and most defining examples of this is at the very beginning of the book, where he fusses over the design of paper versus plastic straws and has to write up an incredible stream of words about it (Baker 5). At first I was thinking what was wrong with Howie. It shouldn't be that difficult to just purchase your food, or dry your hands, or walk down a hallway normally. I would never waste my brainpower on this! But even though my personal thoughts aren't on the same level of childlike extremity like Howie, I couldn't help but admit that I kind of do this - I'm always thinking of some sort of tangent, or noticing a pattern on a mug I'm drinking from, even if it's just for a moment and not some sprawling thing that deserves its own essay on its historical background and context. And even when I don't realize this subconsciously, it still is something I do unironically, and it makes reading this book, a foresight into the exact thoughts of a man going through his routines in his mundane corporate office, that much more fun.
This habit of finding meaning in the small things becomes even clearer near the end of the novel, where Howie reads the Penguin Classic book he bought written by Aurelius. Aurelius describes mortal life as "transient and trivial (...) yesterday a drop of semen, tomorrow a handful of spice and ashes" (Baker 120). Howie immediately becomes very mad, but soon develops a newfound appreciation for it. "Destructive and unhelpful and misguided and completely untrue!-but harmless, even agreeably sobering to a man sitting on a green bench on a herringbone-patterned brick plaza (...) I could absorb any brutal stoicism anyone dished out!" (Baker 121) And then puts it down and continues eating his snack. I wrote in my notebook about how a major focal point in this book is Howie slowing down and appreciating every detail in his life because they can hold much more emotional and nostalgic weight than anyone might realize. In the end he still dismisses it as harmless, deciding to enjoy his own moment right now and remain "drunk" on the wonderful minute things. This is roughly the same general experience I had with this book. I started out hating it but after I read it through, I greatly appreciate how polar opposite it is to the things I always read before. It reminds us to take a pause on our own chaotic lives and see the movement of the minute things through our journey - but while the journey of reading this book was very fun and insightful, what was the destination? Baker created ingenuity in a book about a corporate worker experiencing mental fireworks over his typical office building, and currently it seems like all the explosive epic comic books that want to capture your attention become mundanities in themself - but I will choose to return to those familiar, explosive, colorful bestsellers in the end. The Mezzanine is a masterfully written experience that gave me a new lens and I doubt I would ever want to read it again.
- Philip
Hi Phillip, this is super relatable; I definitely agree with you that it took me a while to actually get into the book. While I agree that a typical exciting, explosive book may be more fun, I think there may be some worth to re-reading The Mezzanine. I'm sure there are plenty of connections and observations I may have missed. Great post!
ReplyDeleteHey Philip! I definitely had a similar experience to you when I started reading the book--- It took me a really long time to get used to the way the book moved and Howie's many quirks. I really enjoyed how the book got me to reflect on my own thought process (especially with writing the pastiche) and encourages you to look at the little things in life! And while I think rereading the book might be fun a little later on and in substantially smaller chunks (just to pick up on details I may have missed), I do agree with you and think I'll stick to my more plot-filled novels for now.
ReplyDeleteReally well put! How Baker framed the book is quite quirky, and takes a bit to get used to. But it grew on me, and I found his miniature-analyses very intriguing. Providing insight into my own life, drawing my attention to the little things that I wouldn't typically notice. And I agree with your point on his emphasis on slowing down and appreciating the little things. Like Drake Cakes on the rear end of a truck, or the crenellation of the nose of the escalator. A book about nothing and everything at the same time.
ReplyDeleteOne unique aspect of reading this book, for me, is the whole idea that throughout our life we occupy different "eras" defined by the kinds of consumer products that are available to us at that time. In some ways, this seems obvious once it's pointed out--like with music technology, it's easy to see my lifetime in terms of the "cassette era," the "CD era," the "early streaming era," and now the "vinyl and cassette and CD resurgence era." It's less obvious how my lifetime has been marked by changes in milk-carton technology, but once this novel attunes me to the topic, I realize that I came of age during the wax-cardboard milk carton era with the ingenious "peaked-roof" opening that Baker celebrates--and I also realize that we have collectively entered a NEW era in the years since the novel was published (the screw-cap-on-peaked-roof era). At first it seems like a joke, thinking of the Era of the Paper Straw, but the book implies that in some ways THESE are the actual markings of history and lived experience, far more consequential to our actual lives than the names of leaders or ideologies.
ReplyDeleteHi Philip! I was on the same boat as you in the start of the novel. There's no clear reason why anyone would or should write this. Why should we care about these little things like dryers and shoelaces? It seems like these "thoughts" pass through our minds for a fraction of a second and Baker just grabs them and strings them into a very detailed somehow cohesive piece of work. You asked "what was the destination?" And I think that may be one of the biggest things I took way from this novel is the idea that there really isn't a destination. Great blog!
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