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A review by screen_memory
Bacacay by Witold Gombrowicz
4.0
I don't often enjoy short stories, but I made an exception for Gombrowicz and I was not disappointed. Both Gombrowicz and Goytisolo are purveyors of the absurd, but Goytisolo's world is one of extraordinary violence - it is a world of unfathomable heaviness - whereas Gombrowicz' is extraordinarily light - all instances of violence, even cannibalism, accomplish an effect of humor, and are often the initiatory steps of a narrative Rube Goldberg machine that sets off a causal chain of circumstances which grow increasingly absurd.
Gombrowicz' universe is not so fantastical as much as it is situated on a fundament of logic that makes no sense in the world as we know it; it is based on a system of logic endemic to Gombrowicz' strange universe. In one story, a bored spectator of a tennis match fires a gunshot at the ball in mid-flight, after which the match becomes a mimetic performance - the players mime as though the ball were still in play (it just occurred to me that Michaelangelo Antonioni may have found influence from Gombrowicz for the closing scene of Blow Up). The bullet continues its trajectory and tears through the throat of a spectator on the opposite side. His wife, distraught, exacts her vengeance on the gunman via proxy - unable to reach the gunman, she slaps the man seated next to her who begins seizing. The audience, who would no doubt fall into hysterics or madness, or, at the very least, shock, in the world as we know it, erupt into cheers at the spectacle; so much more enthralling than the tennis match which prompted the gunman to open fire.
If anyone is ever in need of a respite from shouldering the weight of more demanding novels, of narratives of indescribable weight or seriousness, I would suggest a visit to Gombrowicz' world. He is what I call a vacation read - not a novel to be read at beachside, but a novel which can alleviate the exhausted consciousness after a round of more serious, more heavy literature (not to suggest Gombrowicz' books are mere trifles; they should be treasured and relished, but they present themselves to be enjoyed in their own peculiar manner).
Gombrowicz' universe is not so fantastical as much as it is situated on a fundament of logic that makes no sense in the world as we know it; it is based on a system of logic endemic to Gombrowicz' strange universe. In one story, a bored spectator of a tennis match fires a gunshot at the ball in mid-flight, after which the match becomes a mimetic performance - the players mime as though the ball were still in play (it just occurred to me that Michaelangelo Antonioni may have found influence from Gombrowicz for the closing scene of Blow Up). The bullet continues its trajectory and tears through the throat of a spectator on the opposite side. His wife, distraught, exacts her vengeance on the gunman via proxy - unable to reach the gunman, she slaps the man seated next to her who begins seizing. The audience, who would no doubt fall into hysterics or madness, or, at the very least, shock, in the world as we know it, erupt into cheers at the spectacle; so much more enthralling than the tennis match which prompted the gunman to open fire.
If anyone is ever in need of a respite from shouldering the weight of more demanding novels, of narratives of indescribable weight or seriousness, I would suggest a visit to Gombrowicz' world. He is what I call a vacation read - not a novel to be read at beachside, but a novel which can alleviate the exhausted consciousness after a round of more serious, more heavy literature (not to suggest Gombrowicz' books are mere trifles; they should be treasured and relished, but they present themselves to be enjoyed in their own peculiar manner).