ENG 340 Final Presentation

A Novel of its Time: Technology, Confinement and Metafiction in The Keep

Argument:

• The Keep is truly a novel of its time, both in the themes it presents and the way in which it presents them.
• Metafiction is particularly successful in representing the complex themes of modern day life, because as technology constantly changes the ways we communicate within our contemporary society, it makes sense that the novel would change the way it communicates to the reader of the 21st century.

Theorists/Critics:

• Madison Smartt Bell- “Into the Labyrinth” – NYT review of The Keep
• John Barth- “The Literature of Replenishment: Postmodernist Fiction”
• Bran Nicol- Postmodernism and the Contemporary Novel: A Reader
• Madalena Gonzalez- “The aesthetics of post-realism and the obscenification of everyday life: the novel in the age of technology”
• Mark William Roche- Why Literature Matters in the 21st Century
• Patricia Waugh- Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction

Primary Source Material:

The Keep by Jennifer Egan (2006)

• Technology: “What’s real, Danny? Is reality TV real? Are confessions you read on the Internet real? . . . Who are you talking to on your cell phone? In the end you have no idea. We’re living in a supernatural world, Danny. We’re surrounded by ghosts” (Egan 130).
• Confinement: “You dive in and-bang-your imagination is released: it’s yours again, not Hollywood’s, not the networks or Lifetime TV or Vanity Fair or whatever crap video game you’re addicted to. You make it up, you tell the story, and then you’re free” (Egan 50).
• Metafiction: “He was heading into memory number two, I might as well tell you that straight up, because how I’m supposed to get him in and out of all these memories in a smooth way so nobody notices all the coming and going I don’t know” (Egan 11).

Importance:

• Novels that are metafictional, such as The Keep, work particularly well to reflect the state of our current technological era.
• This would likely interest scholars of postmodernism, those interested in the novel as a form, and readers of contemporary fiction.

Research Paper Ideas

The reason I’m really interested in The Keep is that it engages me in all the ways  conventionally written, popular novels do, while at the same time employing decidedly postmodern metafictional techniques such as building stories within stories (and blurring the lines between them) and having the narrator directly address the reader about how the text is being written. I think this novel definitely straddles the line between “realistic” conventional fiction and postmodern experimentation, which allows just about anyone to be able to read and enjoy this novel, but there’s also room to bring in lit. theory, and that’s what I’m going to do. 

 I want to look at how metafictional techniques in this novel comment on the changes in the way we communicate within our contemporary society as new technologies constantly emerge. If, in this technological era, people communicate very differently than ever before, than this novel, which communicates differently than conventional novels, is particularly fitting for our time. I will argue that metafiction is particularly successful in representing the complex themes of modern day life, such as over-reliance on technology and paranoia about reality, and how writing has changed in our time. I want to read up on metafiction and postmodern theory to formulate an argument about how changes in the novel’s form reflect these vital themes.

The Keep Post #3: The “Real/Unreal Binary” and “Telecommunicatons Yada Yada”

I think in the end of The Keep there are two notable instances that continue the theme of technology and connect that with the theme of reality vs. illusion. The first happens when Mick finds Danny after he’s run away to the town, and when he gives Danny a cell phone, it appears to him “a hunk of precious metal,” “alien, unfamiliar,” and using the phone feels “dreamlike” (165-6). The very concept of using a phone–that is, simply punching in some numbers and then hearing, almost instantly, the voice of someone you know is very far away speaking to you as if they were right there–seems impossible; Danny questions if the voice is actually coming from the phone or even from the castle, and then becomes so paranoid that he doesn’t believe Martha is actually Martha: “The voice was familiar, no question. But it wasn’t Martha. Martha was far away, back in New York” (167). It’s strange that he is so distrusting and disoriented concerning the one thing he couldn’t live without previously (how long has he been at the castle?) and yet this shows that being isolated in the castle with Howard has completely affected Danny. He believes Howard is out to get him, and questions the reality of everything around him–he is sure the entire town is a construct of Howard’s to trick him.

The second instance happens when everyone is down in the tunnels, and Howard delivers this priceless line: “A reminder, folks. The whole mission of this hotel we’re putting together is to help people shed the real/unreal binary that’s become so meaningless now, with telecommunications yada yada. So this is our chance to walk the walk. Let’s not analyze. Let’s just have the experience and see where it takes us” (187). This bit of dialogue stood out to me as really strange; would anyone really speak this way, even Howard? By this point, we understand what Howard’s mission is in this castle hotel, and we are have put together these themes of techonology and reality, etc., but for Howard to state what is, for me, essentially the meaning of the novel in such a matter-of-fact way, was hilarious. I think we can write off this anomaly to Ray’s inexperience as a writer. However, this is also another example of this novel as metafiction, as a character in the novel is commenting on, and dismissing, the themes of the novel. Ironically, I think this character is telling me, the reader, to stop analyzing these themes and just see where the experience of reading this book takes me.

Finally, end of Part II: Mick IS Ray. Blew my mind for a second. Now this entire castle story, which we took as a completely fictional story from Ray, turns out to be real. Even as the reader of this novel, we don’t always know what’s real and what’s not. I wish I had the time/space to comment on Part III–yet another twist in the form of the novel, as Holly, a somewhat minor character, takes over narration of the end. Furthermore, in her visit to the hotel, she is in a way entering Ray’s story and becoming the woman Ann imagined, diving into the pool.

The Keep Post #2: “Is reality TV real?”

A theme I’ve been looking at in The Keep is the over-reliance on technology, which plays into further themes like alienation vs. communication in our contemporary society. Certainly Egan shows many ways in which Danny is obsessed with technology, including his belief that he can physically sense a wireless signal when it is present. Danny is clearly devastated after he loses his satellite dish in the stinky pool, but then he later gets into a different state of mind when he is with the baroness and willingly throws his cell phone off the castle’s tower. Of course, he later regrets this. Howard is a foil for Danny’s point of view, as he does not want technology around and is always talking about the value of imagination.

Later, when Danny wakes up for a bit after his fall out the window, he has a conversation with Howie about technology vs. reality that was pretty interesting. Are we really connected to someone if we’re chatting with them online, or do they need to be present? Danny says he prefers real things to imaginary things, and Howie responds: “What’s real, Danny? Is reality TV real? Are confessions you read ont he Internet real? . . . Who are you talking to on your cell phone? In the end you have no idea. We’re living in a supernatural world, Danny. We’re surrounded by ghosts” (130 in my book). Technology is a strange phenomenon that this novel is trying to understand-how it affects our world.

This idea actually connects to Ray, as his roommate Davis accuses him of writing a story about ghosts. Both stories are dealing with the question of reality vs. fantasy and where technology fits into that. For example, Davis’ “radio”-type device that is supposedly meant to communicate with the dead, and that Danny begins to think could be real technology, even though it’s clearly a shoebox full of lint and hair.

As I’ve gotten farther into this novel, my interest has really grown and I’m now thinking I’d like to focus on The Keep for my research paper. The form is what really interests me. As I have not found any journal articles specifiically on The Keep, I am looking for journal articles on postmodernism in the novel, maybe more specific aspects of postmodern novels like metafiction, maybe something about technology addiction/cyberspace vs. reality as a theme in the postmodern novel, and of course reviews and interviews. I’ve already found many good reviews and an interview with Egan in which she discusses her process in crafting this novel; she was originally drawn to the idea of a gothic novel but wanted to do it in a new way and felt that clashing the classic gothic novel with our contemporary technological era would be really interesting (I agree). She also talks about how she developed the frame structure of the novel after struggling to find the right voice. I think there’s a lot of potential here!

The Keep Post #1: Metafiction and the Novel

Because this novel is kind of tricky, I feel the need to lay out what I understand so far: Danny is somewhere in Eastern Europe, at a castle where he is meeting his cousin, Howie, who he has not seen in awhile. They had fun together as kids, even though Howie was considered a loser, until Howie went through a “traumatic incident“ which greatly changed him (8). Danny, influenced by another cousin, Rafe, played a mean parnk of Howie, pushing him into a pool of water in a cave. Oh, and this whole story is actually being written by Ray, the narrator of the novel, for a writing class. Ray’s in prison and clearly not an experienced writer.

I’ve noticed some non-tradional things happening with form. Rather than using quotation marks to indicate dialogue, the narrator simply introduces the line of dialogue with the speaker’s name and a colon, sort of like in a playscript.  But even this doesn’t seem entirely consistent; on page 9, Egan writes:  “Alto: he was in the middle of frigging nowhere” but is this meant to be dialogue? Structurally, this text is a little unclear to me at this point. Also, there is frequent use of italics to indicate dialogue that is not actually happening at the present moment, but that Danny is remembering. I’ve seen writers format dialogue in this way. Another formal element I noticed is when Ray directly addresses the reader, such as: “He was heading into memory number two, I might as well tell you that straight up, because how I’m supposed to get him in and out of all these memories in a smooth way so nobody notices all the coming and going I don’t know” (11). This works as a metafictional commentary on the difficulty of writing this novel, how to structure it. Because this novel contains a story within a story, the narrator describes the process of working out the story while writing it. There are so many levels to this novel already. It’s pretty amazing.

I’ve found some areas in this text that comment on language. Danny and his friends make up words, such as “alto,” in cases where ”the English language [comes] up short” (6). Another example of a made-up word is “worm . . . that thing that happened to people when they lost confidence and got phony, anxious, weird” (10). We’ve seen in novels like Madame Bovary the theme of language falling short of fully, truly expressing something. The Keep presents an interesting solution–make up a new language. Maybe this is related to Keep’s meta- commentary on writing and the many ways in which the content of this novel (in terms of language) is an extension of the form.

Native Speaker Post #3

The ending of this novel was unexpected but I really love it. It is such a change in tone from the earlier parts of the novel; it’s lighter and more optimistic. Henry and Lelia’s relationship has been re-built. This is shown in the way they treat language when they work together teaching speech therapy. When I read this end scene, where Henry and Lelia teach together, in my mind I contrasted it with their first meeting in which Henry notices how carefully Lelia speaks, her critical attention to language and proper English speech. Henry also takes English speech very seriously, as Lelia remarks, constantly paying attention to the way he speaks. This relates to the theme of race in that Henry connects speech with race, and wants to speak correctly so that he can be “American.” Later, he doesn’t want to read to Mitt, afraid that his speech, which is not as perfect as Lelia’s, will somehow corrupt his son’s development.

I like how the last scene shows such growth from the hypersensitivity surrounding language earlier in the novel. The kids enjoy Lelia’s teaching because she “makes the talk unserious and fun” (348). Furthermore, Lelia “wants them to know that there is nothing to fear, she wants to offer up a pale white woman horsing with the language to show them it’s fine to mess it all up” (349). It is valuable for the children to understand that even white people can mess up when speaking English. This shows Lelia and Henry recognize the importance of being able to relax and be comfortable in your own skin if you ever want to be able to improve. Likewise, Henry enjoys his job as the “Speech Monster” (348). Even though he is still playing a role, he is having fun with it, and he is doing something important– acting as a role model for children who are not native speakers of English. Lelia reinforces the children’s individual identities when she calls out each of their names in their native languages, and breaks down barriers of racial/national identity when she tells them they have each “been a good citizen” (349). This sounds like a funny thing to say, but it makes sense in the context of the novel.

Native Speaker Post #2

As I was reading with the theme of race in mind, I noticed how race affects relationships between characters in this novel. Henry says of his father: “He never said it, but I knew he liked the fact that Lelia was white . . . the assumption being that Lelia and her family would help me make my way in the land” (58). Later, Lelia’s father has a very similar reaction to Henry: “I can see now why Lelia chose you . . . She needs someone like you . . . There’s so much that’s admirable in the Oriental culture and mind” (121). Henry’s father sees his race as a disadvantage that can be assisted by marrying into a white, American family, whereas Lelia’s father see’s Henry’s race as an advantage, something that will make him a good husband. Overall, there seem to be mixed opinions about race in this novel, and what position it places a person in socially, culturally, etc.

There is also a connection between race and the way characters communicate with one another. In Henry’s Asian American family, he is raised in an environment where there is a lot of silence; there are situations where it is better not to speak. For example, after Henry’s father is robbed by black men in his store, he came home, “went straight up to the bedroom and shut and locked the door . . . He wouldn’t answer” (56). In this situation, hiding oneself away, remaining silent, seems to be a way of maintaining pride, dignity, not showing weakness. I can’t help but feel that the adult Henry, both in his career choice and in his relationships with people, mimicks this behavior, keeping himself hidden, avoiding talking about certain things. Later, Henry acknowledges this, thinking about John Kim’s silence toward Janice in order to make a larger statement about Koreans: “We perhaps depend too often on the faulty honor of silence, use it too liberally and for gaining advantage” (96). Ahjuma, the housekeeper, is another Korean character that exemplifies silence and the hidden self–Henry doesn’t really know anything about her, even her name. Contrastingly, white characters in this novel–Lelia, her father, Janice–strike me as outspoken in a typically American way.

I think this is a big part of the problems in Lelia and Henry’s marriage–the communication. Mitt’s death, and the aftermath in which, according to Lelia, they never discuss the death, deeply impacts their relationship: “we’ve never really talked about it” (129). I do think Henry recognizes his inability to communicate with his wife in a way that satisfies them both. This passage really struck me: “I tried once or twice to pick up the habit [smoking], in sympathy with my wife, so we could sit together by the windows in the heat and not talk, and not always have to look at one another, to have those tranquil moments true smokers seem to share and secretly count on” (128). He longs to share those comfortable silences that you have with someone, where it’s not necessary to talk because you just understand each other. I get this. Still, Lelia needs him to talk to her.

Native Speaker Post #1

There are definitely some issues of identity going on in this novel so far, and also identity as related to race and also language. Care is taken to describe each character’s ethnic background (reflected in their names) and there is also a lot of focus on the way characters speak/use language.

Henry Park, the main character, is Korean and an immigrant to the U.S. His identity to me is unclear at this point; he hasn’t yet revealed very much about himself or even what he does for a living. He is some kind of spy working for a private organization, who is assigned to follow and get close to people and write biographies (?) of them. I don’t feel like I really know him except in how he compares himself to others. There is his “American wife,” Lelia, who is white, and as Henry emphasizes on meeting her for the first time, “her voice surprised me with its pitch, clearer and higher than I was hearing these days” and what he noticed about her, even before her appearance, was that “she could really speak” (8-10). Lelia identifies Henry as Korean by his last name, but comments that it is the way he speaks that really gives away his foreignness: “You look like someone listening to himself . . . If I had to guess, you’re not a native speaker” (12). If I had to guess, I’d say this concept is pretty important, as it is the title of the book, tying together the concepts of “nativeness” (race/identity) with a person’s speech (language). Later, at work, he identifies many of his co-workers, Jack Kalantzakos- Mediterranean, Pete Ichibata- Japanese, and so on. He says: “Each of us engaged our own kind, more or less” (17). I’m already sensing some racial tensions here.

We also get characterizations of Henry from the list Lelia compiles about him. Included in this list are descriptions such as “illegal alien,” “Yellow Peril: neo-American,” “stranger” and “spy” (5). I notice she focuses on qualities that define Henry’s character by his race, his foreignness. Later, Henry finds another piece of paper on which Lelia has written “False speaker of language” (6). I’m hoping to understand what is meant by this phrase as I keep reading.

Myra Breckinridge Research: Gender

The article my group read is “Vested Interests: Cross-Dressing & Cultural Anxiety” by Marjorie Garber. Garber mainly discusses the problem of “male subjectivity,” which we determined to mean the diffictulty involved for many people in forming a gender identity. Much of the article focuses on how male-to-female and female-to-male transsexuals concept their own “subjectivity” or gender identity, so even though Garber talks very little about Myra Breckinridge, many of the ideas are definitely applicable.

An important claim Garber makes, quoting Dr. Robert Stoller, is that for a male-to-female transsexual (like Myra) the penis, “the insignia of maleness is what causes his despair” (96). Furthermore: “Rather than regarding the penis (or the phallus) as incidental equipment contributory toward a general sense of  ‘male subjectivity’ that transcends the merely anatomical, both male transvestites and transsexuals radically and dramatically essentialize the genitalia” (98). I think this is why it is so important for Myra to be awake to witness her surgery, the removal of her penis, and also for her to obsess over her own very feminine body throughout the text. The construction of her new body is very important for Myra in forming her new gender identity.

The case study of Renee Richards, formerly Dick Raskind, is most  closely related to Myra’s situation. Renee Richards starts as a man, begins the transition to woman, then returns completely to being a man in order to get married (stopping hormone injections, having breast implants removed, etc). This draws attention to the cultural notions surrounding gender in relation to marriage. Renee, like Myra, feels that in order to marry a woman she must re-form her gender identity as male. In discussing what it means to be transsexual, Garber poses the question: “Does a transsexual change subjects? Or just bodies–or body parts?” (105). In other words, do the outward physical changes undertaken by Myron to become Myra truly constitute a change from male to female, even though they were so easily undone at the end of the novel? Was Myron ever really a woman? Or is gender so fluid that one can constantly re-construct it? Garber claims: “Transsexualism is not a surgical product but a social, cultural, and psychological zone” (106). Can we as a society accept gender to be however the person identifies themself, regardless of their DNA or anatomy?

Myra’s destruction of maleness manifests itself as a physical attack–rape. She destroys the Rusty’s self-concept of himself as a male, using a phallic object (a dildo). At the end of the novel, she reveals that Rusty has become homosexual, and admits feeling guilt. For Rusty, it is only his sexuality that has changed, possibly as a result of a shift in his own “male subjectivity” after his body is violated.

Finally, here is what I believe Garber’s thesis to be: “The boundary lines of gender and of subjectivity, never clear or precise, their very uncertainty the motivation behind the anxious desire to define, to delimit, to know, are not only being constantly redrawn, but also are receding inward, toward the mysterious locale of “subjectivity,” away from the visible body and its artifacts” (108). In other words, as a society we are obsessed with the notion of gender, delineating what is male and what is female, when at the same time, the boundaries of sex and gender are becoming more elusive. I feel that this mirrors the shift Myra/Myron experiences. At the end of the novel, he identifies himself completely as male, even though he has no penis and can never reproduce.

Myra Breckinridge Post #3

Of all the ways I could have imagined this novel ending, this was not it.

During the rape of Rusty in Ch. 29, Myra is at the peak of her power, “Woman Triumphant,” and writes: “I know what it is like to be a goddess enthroned, and all-powerful” (195-7).  Then, it seems, her work is finished. She submits fully to her love for Mary-Ann, writing: “I must have Mary-Ann but only if she wants me” which is a far cry from her domination of Rusty (227). The last few chapters, documenting the aftermath of the attempted murder of Myra, seem to skip a lot of time and leave a lot of gaps for me. We go straight from Ch. 41, “Where are my breasts?” to Myron’s domestic bliss in Ch. 42.

Suddenly, “Myra Breckinridge whom no man will ever possess” allows herself to be possessed by a woman, and as Myron (1). After so many radical statements about her mission, gender/sex (orgy scene anyone?) she allows herself to regress back to her male state, Myron, because of an accident? She takes up in a basically heterosexual, all-American relationship with Mary-Ann, complete with a ranch house and 2.5 dogs? She laments that they will never be able to reproduce? What happened to over-population, and the apocalypse?

I felt somewhat betrayed, as though all of Myra’s earlier statements about sex, power, culture, everything, has lost its meaning, as though she never really meant it. She discounts her previous self, “Myra” and her ideas: “I can hardly believe I was ever the person who wrote those demented pages” (274).  The last chapter is such a 180 from the rest of the novel. It’s reminiscient of a movie that ends with an alarm clock going off, signifying that it was all just a dream. Although there is the sense that for Myron, he has not regressed back to masculinity but come full circle, and is wiser for it, reading this ending, I couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated, as though the entire novel and its radical statements lost some of their value in the fact that Myron disowned them all at the end.