The fifth review to date of The Assistant, in the July 24, 2007, The Village Voice, by Giles Harvey:
Indeed, from one perspective, Walser’s prose is a tepid slurry of solecism, platitude, and tautology force-fed to the reader in large, grim spoonfuls. It is difficult to think of a modern novelist of any worth who would not think twice about perpetrating a sentence like: “It was as if a black wave were devouring his entire being.” Or: “The word ‘autumn’ pierced Joseph’s soul.”
Why, then, is The Assistant not a disaster? However flawed, irksome, and demanding of our patience, why is it so good? For one thing, it is very funny, and a deep and expansive sense of humor can offset just about any literary shortcoming. Attempting to conceal his gradual descent into pauperism from the neighbors (whom he contemptuously refers to as those “bacon and sausage eaters”), Tobler does what any self-respecting, turn-of-the-century German bourgeois would do: He constructs an elaborate “fairy grotto” in his front garden and invites the skeptics over to marvel at this symbol of prosperity. Here, Walser’s starched and finicky prose comes into its own: “At once they proceeded to the fairy grotto, a cave-like, cement-lined, wallpapered thing, oblong in shape like the inside of a stove, and somewhat too low, causing the visitors to strike their heads on more than one occasion.”
And further on: “I would be surprised if 2007 sees the appearance of a stranger, more inexplicably compelling piece of fiction.”
Harvey isn’t the first writer to comment on Walser’s “platitudes.” Other words that have been applied to his style include “gauche,” “vapid,” and “banal.” It strikes me that “The Literary Offenses of Robert Walser,” a la Twain on Cooper, might make for an interesting essay. And yet, Walser’s style is (bear with me here) a little like Abbey Lincoln’s singing. When you first hear Lincoln sing you think, what is this, the Annoying Music Show? Slowly it dawns on you that the only word that truly applies is “sublime.”
Harvey’s comment on Walser’s humor reminds me that one could assemble a collection of Walser prose pieces that work as comic essays. I think “The Job Application,” for example, belongs in any collection of great, early-20th-Century humor.
By the way, the “black wave” is my favorite scene in the book. It’s one of the many places in The Assistant where it occurred to me that the scariest thing about Walser is not his supposed insanity. Quite the opposite, in fact.
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Sam :: Jul.25.2007 ::
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