unlocking the novel
a guide to modernism and postmodernism

One reader's journey to unlocking the modern novel

“Hmmm,” I thought, “Modern Novel—that looks like a fun class to take.” Little did I then realize that “modern” does not equate with “contemporary”—that I would be studying an artistic movement which began nearly a century ago. Nor did I have any idea that the works I would be reading could not be comprehended in a linear fashion—that the past can, and often does, coincide with the present—that I would be led inside the convoluted minds of the characters I’d meet. I certainly did not conceive that I would have to “unlock” anything.

Only a few paragraphs into James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, I realized I was in for a lot more than I had anticipated. By the end of the first chapter, I was intrigued but frustrated. I had a good sense of the main characters and the world they inhabit in this novel, but by no means were the story’s elements falling neatly into place. The plot was jumpy and not chronological. Many references were left unexplained. And what about the punctuation (or lack thereof)? A book lover, I’d never encountered a novel like this. I was baffled. It was definitely time for me to consult some outside resources.

Several class discussions and a few historical web documents later, I had a much more informed concept of what modernism, as a movement, was all about. It arose as a conscious response to the rapidly changing social climate after World War I. While most of the Northern Hemisphere was still in recovery from The Great War, another was looming on the horizon. Meanwhile, industry and capitalism were booming. Factories and assembly lines were not simply creating automobiles and airplanes, but also unsafe working conditions, pollution, and the notion that individual workers were dispensable. Agriculture and small business were being edged out. Travel had become widely accessible, and, as a result, there was an influx of new cultural practices and ideas. Great thinkers like Freud, Darwin, and Einstein were emerging in the public eye and questioning knowledge which had previously been taken as absolute. Minorities began seeking recognition and political rights. Times were certainly changing, and they were doing it in a hurry.

Along with this hasty social transformation came a rejection of the tradition-oriented hypocrisy that folks had known formerly. That way of being, it was reasoned, had led to war, a breakdown of values, and thousands of displaced human beings. Optimism, for the common person, was a thing of the past. People were left to rebuild their lives in a shifting, jumbled mess of a world. It is in this environment that Modernism took root and here that modern novels were born to give voice to the confused, disillusioned populace.

With this background information, I began to comprehend Joyce’s stylistic choices. He, like other modernist authors, was writing this way on purpose! He wanted to provide an accurate depiction of the jumpy, shifting, uncertain world at this time, and what better way to accomplish that than by taking his audience inside of the jumpy, shifting, uncertain minds of his characters? After all, thoughts rarely, if ever, follow a linear, chronological progression. In this way, modernist authors are being even more true to the humanity of their characters than were their literary predecessors. It is this very humanness which led me to the final segment of my journey to unlock the modern novel.

No understanding is complete without a degree of personal connection. For me, this enlightenment came as I followed Stephen Dedalus, the semi-autobiographical representative of Joyce in Portrait, on his path of spiritual evolution. There is no aspect of my own life which is not soulful, but I have not always been aware of this fact. Witnessing Stephen achieve this awareness in his life touched me deeply. There comes a point in his story wherein he turns down a high honor against all external advice. In that moment, he finally decides to listen to his own intuitive guidance. He becomes conscious of his own spirit and his unwavering need to live every aspect of his life in accordance with the wishes of his soul. I was so grateful for Stephen’s epiphany that I found myself shouting with him, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Suddenly, I loved modern novels, and I carried my new tools with me as I encountered Virginia Woolf, Ernest Hemingway, and William Faulkner. Still though, I would continue to have moments of such frustration that I would be led to question myself. “Why am I doing this again?” I would ask. “Why did I become an English major? What’s the point?” But I would let go and keep reading and keep encountering reflections of myself again and again. At times, the mirror held up to me by these characters would present an image so clear and beautiful and honest that I would be brought to tears or laughter or both. Then I would remember—why I chose this, why I read, why I write, why any artist creates, why any art is appreciated:  expression brings us closer to each other and to our true selves. That is the real key.

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