Thoughts on Experimental Fiction
My first exposure to experimental writing was back in 1991 when I read William S. Burroughs' famous novel, Naked Lunch. I had heard about the book before, and just seen David Cronenberg's movie version. The movie was cool, but totally different from the book, which Cronenberg considered unfilmable as is. I disagree, but anyway...
Naked Lunch was first published in Paris in 1959. It was a scathing, surreal, satirical assault on Eisenhower's America, loaded with drug use, extreme violence, and bizarre, often disgusting hardcore sex scenes.
It's also one of the funniest and most brilliant books I've ever read. It's considered one of the most influential novels of all time. But, it's definitely not for all tastes. It's not a book you can "like." You either love it or you hate it. I love it.
Later, in 2001, a friend turned me onto Mark Danielweski. Before that, I enjoyed reading experimental works by John Barth, Kurt Vonnegut, and Richard Brautigan. And let's not forget Jack Kerouac! I've also read almost everything William S. Burroughs wrote, not just Naked Lunch. I've learned a lot from all those writers.
One thing I've learned is that the best experimental writing has a method to its madness and doesn't bog the reader down in endless, pointless poetics, as though he were patronizing an art gallery that contained nothing but collages on its walls.
I have used some experimental writing in my own work. It can make one's writing fresh, but you must take care not to get carried away or you'll end up with an annoyingly pretentious result. I don't know if I could write a completely experimental novel, but I've always been intrigued with the idea of merging traditional narrative with experimental prose.
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