Performative Male

To begin today, some housekeeping. It has come to my attention that the New York Times ran an article last week on the Performative Male, a cultural archetype who, “might sip on iced matcha lattes at a cafe while reading Sally Rooney or Joan Didion. He might wear wired headphones and baggy pants, and he would most likely be carrying a tote bag (perhaps with a Labubu attached). He could be listening to Clairo and would be quick to reveal his collection of vinyl records. He turns himself into a walking mood board of on-trend markers for softness, stylishness and a feminist leaning that he may or may not actually possess. And as a result, he has become a scoffed-at meme.”

I would like to state that I am not writing about a novel by Sally Rooney in order to seem more sensitive to contemporary women. I am happily married and am already pretty darn sensitive (Dena says two-thirds of the time). I have no wired headphones or LaBubu dolls. I don’t listen to Clairo, although I do have many vinyl records and some Joan Didion books. Baggy pants, yes but not so stylish.

‘Kay. That’s settled then. I am not a meme.

Last time, we were discussing the style of Intermezzo, in particular the use of the present tense and the deployment of two different narrative styles to represent the two main characters, Peter and Ivan.

Throughout both styles, there is a pervasive focus on internal, subjective experience. Peter has a complex romantic life that involves him believing he is in love with two women, Naomi, (22) his younger sexual partner, and Sylvia, a woman of his age (32), a former paramour who suffered a bad accident that left her unable to enjoy penetrative sex. Such a fictional situation—a not-quite-classic love triangle—might inspire many authors to focus on the interpersonal relationships of the lovers, as revealed in dialogue and dramatic scene, but Intermezzo consists of a lot of inner talk. Here is Peter with Naomi:

“She lies down beside him, warm, her breath warm, the scent of coffee and something else…Letting him touch with his fingertips her damp underarm. Chalky scent of deodorant only masking the lower savory smell of perspiration.”

‘Kay, so he’s kind of obsessed with her, but the obsessions are all filtered through his sensory experience. They’re impressions that are largely unmediated by past contexts and/or interpretation.

Ivan’s inner life is also shown, yet he is more reflective and intellectual, which speaks to his being a different character. Here he is after having sex with Margaret for the first time:

“Is this how it feels, he thinks, to get what you want? To desire, and at the same time to have, still desiring, but fulfilled…Other people might experience these feelings all the time, whatever they are. Strong, powerful feelings of happiness, satisfaction, protectiveness. It could all be very ordinary, in the aftermath of mutually pleasant episodes just like now.”

Yes, he’s very inside his head all right.

Margaret herself is shown as being more…well, normal, I think. Here she is driving Ivan to his place:

“What do you think you’re passionate about? she asks.

At this, he blushes. She can see him, even in the dim light, blushing, and he says something that sounds like: Hm. Alarmed, she says with forced cheerfulness, too loudly: Never mind, you needn’t tell me. Then she regrets saying that too.”

So Margaret tends to often be shown in dialogue (and the dialogue tends to be unmarked) along with her internal reactions to what’s being said and heard. She second guesses herself a lot and lacks confidence.

Another feature of the story is the depiction of social media. Peter texts and emails, and these communications are shown in this format:

“Finally the resigned padding of his thumbs on the screen.

Peter: That’s terrible news, Janine. (a friend of Naomi’s) I’ll head over to Kevin Street now. Do you know why Naomi was arrested? And is she okay?

Janine: Yea I don’t think she got hurt or anything.”

It’s interesting that Peter, whose thoughts are typically shown in sentence fragments, tends to text in complete sentences. I don’t know why. Ivan has a hefty on-line presence because of his chess games which are apparently streaming but doesn’t communicate much otherwise.

And there is use of several slang terms. Ivan is given to saying “cool,” even in profound moments, and many of the characters make use of the expression, “No, yeah,” which I believe is an effort at showing Irish dialect. (It also reminds me of my late mother-in-law who had a confusing verbal style).

All of these things—the present tense, the internal focus, the mixing of narrative styles—are features of modernism. Is Intermezzo a modernist novel?

Whoa!

I can see where this question is coming from. Last time, I noted Ms. Rooney’s interest in James Joyce, a sort of high priest of modernism, the artistic movement that began in the late nineteenth century.

Yes, the above things are indeed features of modernism, which was, however, centered on breaking with tradition. In Intermezzo, we have a book that strongly expresses the tradition of modernism, an artistic movement that was supposed to defy tradition. A paradox, no?

No, yeah.

(crash of chairs being thrown, incoherent yelling, whine of feedback from microphone)

“Excuse me, Mr. Pretentious Bully. Mr. Snooze…”

Oh no. How did you get back in here? Call security!

“…Mr. Performative Male. Who cares if Intermezzo is in a modernist tradition? I just want to read the good parts and get to the ending. Hey, let go of me! Hey!”

‘Kay. It’s useful (but not necessary) to understand how a book fits into literary traditions. No author writes without context and influence. No artist creates works that are completely new. There is always precedent and knowing this may increase your pleasure.

It seems to me that Intermezzo is a hybrid, parts of it are very much in a modernist form, parts are more traditional, consisting of mainstream prose styles.

Till next time.

#Intermezzo #SallyRooney #AlanBray