The Sartrey Omezerian Levenation; by Adam Bernstein
Here I am about to announce the emergence of a new religion, one based entirely on three books; Paul Omeziri's Descent into Illusions, Jeremy Leven's Satan; his psychotherapy and cure, and Jean-Paul Sartre's Nausea. Three books, by three authors, separated by thousands of miles by decades and by ideological leanings, but united around one crucial factor, their innovativeness. Martin Heidegger explains that "the real 'movement' of the sciences takes place in the revision of [...] basic concepts, a revision which is more or less radical and lucid with regard to itself. A science's level of development is determined by the extent to which it is capable of a crisis in its basic concepts." All mature realms of human knowledge question the very foundation of their foundation, "scientific revolutions" to use Kuhn's terminology are a basic revision or reformulation of a sciences methods or tenets, a new way of viewing the world or a new way of finding out about the world. Thus today's quantum mechanics and relativity theory are radically different from the classical physics of Newton, which in turn parts company with Aristotle's primitive "physics". But what of literature, are the same processes of innovation and revision at work in literature. The answer for the most part is no, literature unlike "true" sciences is reluctant to change, always looking back to some classical age hundreds or even thousands of years in the past. Literature struggles to emulate Homer's The Odyssey or Shakespeare's Othello. Those who attempt something new or "revolutionary" are punished and marginalized. Thus rather that moving closer and closer to perfection as in the case of the "mature" sciences such as physics, literature tends to stagnate and finally crystallized. But there are some who dear even in this area of stagnation to push forward towards new frontiers. This kind can be found in the three works above mentions, masters of their craft, worthy of praise, innovators in the field of literature.
Antoine Roquentin, a quiet historian sits down in front of paper and pencil and records the events in his life. This "novel" is in fact the journal of Antoine Roquentin who passes through various stages of consciousness. The most interesting event in the novel takes place when Roquentin stands in a park and suddenly feels the world transformed around him. He explains "I had found the clue to existence, the clue to my nauseas, to my own life. In fact, all I could grasp beyond comes down to this fundamental absurdity." The world presents itself as a jumble of existents, tumultuous, overwhelming, For Roquentin it all is "absurd, irreducible; nothing- not even a profound secret delirium of nature- could explain it." This "novel" is in fact a philosophical texts, recording the events in the fictional life of a person who slowly reaches a state of peace and understanding. Interestingly Roquentin questions the very foundations of existence, of the totality of being, in order to finally arrive at the cool oasis of truth. Interestingly because this is the same process that Heiddeger outlines as the prerequisite to true progress in thinking.
Satan: His Psychotherapy and Cure
This story is difficult to characterize in a linear and simple way. There are multiple plots, seeming initially to be unrelated but coming together in the end. In a story charged with sexuality, theology, and psychology Dr. Kassler a psychotherapist makes a deal with the Devil. He is to provide him with psychotherapy in return Satan will give him the answer of all answers, the ultimate answer to the ultimate question; what is the meaning of life? But as the therapy sessions progress and Satan gains ever more insight into the source of his problems, Kassler descends ever more into a kind of living hell. The comical torments that he faces are both horrific and hysterical, provoking both fear and laughter. Ultimately Satan is satisfied with his therapy, coming to grips with his rejection by humanity, and his being blamed for all man's ills, so thus he decides to tell Kassler the ultimate meaning of life. Life, explains Satan, is Hell. If you think I just ruined the story for you, you're wrong. Again this story is not about anything, because it is about everything. Multiple plots and ideas come together in a fantastic literary orgy, each chapter is enjoyable by itself. The author himself puts it succinctly when he explains "what can I tell you? The tale is chaotic, persons and paths crossing like the wiring of some, you should pardon the expression, diabolical brain, its function and purpose not to be deciphered from any simple separation of the jumbled connexions." This is a masterpiece of modern literature.
Descent into Illusions
This story written by the man-god Paul Omeziri is truly amazing. Sadly this is not the most popular novel out, and the reason is the same as for the others, the world of literature is allergic to new ideas, it sees anything revolutionary as toxic, and so truly exceptional novels are banished to the nether regions of the literary world. The novel revolves around Nick Anderson, a quiet man, who through a series of shifts in thinking and life style comes to see the whole world as nothing more than an illusion. We get a really close view of one person in this novel, Nick, his dreams, his thoughts, his imagination. In fact one could say that the only person in this novel is Nick, since everything else exists through him, umbilical cords of existence connect him to his surroundings. Nick explains "sometimes I see it...this world around me. This throbbing thing. I feel it is nothing more than a part of me, and I a part of it." This book reads less like a book and more like a philosophical study into the nature of existence, a depiction of life confined within the prison of modern society, and a search for answers in a world of madness. The most interesting facet of this novel is that peppered throughout the story are events, and personas that a casual reader might miss, but in fact is the clue to the shocking denouement. This book I think will be a classic of modern literature, and if it's not, it should be.