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In Absurdia, by Glenn Whalan, is a novel; sort of. In Absurdia, by Glenn Whalan, is an experimental-fiction novel; sort of. And this is a review of In Absurdia, by Glenn Whalan; (wait for it) sort of.

Quite honestly, this must be among the most unorthodox reviews I’ve ever had to write, not because I feel particularly ambivalent about the book I decided to review, but because I feel speechless – as in, literally speechless; I have so few things to talk about.

This, as we will see, contains hints both for the book and against it. However, even that is not as clear-cut as I’d like to make it sound. Concept such as “book”, “for”, or “against” are not something that seems to be in accord with what In Absurdia is all about.

Review Of In Absurdia, by Glenn Whalan: General Impression

Now, hang on! If you remember from past reviews on Home for Fiction, that’s not how it’s supposed to work. First I talk about genre, narrative, and plot, then about characters, and only then do I offer you a general impression.

The thing is, In Absurdia is so far outside the normal boundaries of fiction, that it feels ridiculous to talk about these aspects. Still, I’ll do my best to convey what the book is about.

Plot (or not?)

As a first thing, I’ll partially quote the back-cover description, as provided by the author. The reason I do this is because without this recourse I would have no idea how to tell you what the book is about.

“Middle-aged Funboy is God. Claimed by many, he suffers an identity disorder and self-medicates with spirits, pills and cheeseburgers. Alone in a cheap room he reflects on a favorite incarnation, or creation, Gonzo Jack, who once bent the rules of existence. Close to a major hallucination, Funboy resurrects Jack and sends him to find reality, which has taken a vacation to Absurdia. When a bear named Crystal discovers a body, she blames Funboy and orders him to return Jack to life. But, Jack has already left on his journey.

“Jack emerges in Absurdia, a beach town, with much to learn. He looks for, but consistently misinterprets, reality. Pursued by the status quo, Jack must overcome inherited addictions and learn to survive, or evolve, even as the status quo tries to kill him. If Jack can find reality then the world will continue on its happy, mundane path. If Jack can find a more intimate, ultimate reality then life as he knows it will come to a satisfying end. If the body that Crystal finds is not Jack, it may be Funboy. If God is dead…

In all honesty, and despite this back-cover description (arguably a necessary evil), In Absurdia doesn’t really have a plot – neither does it need one, as we’ll see.

Style and Other Considerations

First, let’s see what In Absurdia isn’t.

It’s not a novel with a regular beginning, middle, and ending. Although nominally there is some sort of narrative evolution, I think the best way to describe the book would be as a loose connection of scenes – if not sentences.

No, it’s not a collection of short stories, or anything of the sort. There is continuity (though the word somewhat loses its meaning in this novel), but it’s the kind of dreamlike, staccato continuity that doesn’t quite make sense in a strictly realistic frame of reference.

The best way to describe In Absurdia would be as a long, elaborate, very lucid dream. Take a look at this excerpt:

It’s then that I realize Reinhold really is a bear, as I scan the room around. Kitchen choirgirls sing to beans that grow from palms at random. They wash then dry and comb their hair, roast and grind like diamonds. The diner sprouts with sweating palms which stand, haphazard from the floor, as though they’ve always been there, and the tables built around them. Between lovers and coconuts, cardboard straws join hands. Greased and sliding, coy and growing, fingers skate and play. She looks at him for so long that she sees herself reflected. A Siamese cat pads across until a child falls, cries.

What In Absurdia does is to throw you into a scene and let you gasp for breath, struggling to cope with what you’re experiencing. Most people will drown, and if there was a metric letting us know the percentage of readers quitting after 20 pages, I’d expect that to be high.

But those who won’t drown, will find themselves in one incredible ride.

In Absurdia Boils Down to One Thing

Affect. That’s all there is to it. I’ve never before encountered a book focusing so much on how something is felt, rather than what it is.

Of course, the question is: Can this raw essence of In Absurdia reach its audience? It’s a very difficult question for anyone to answer – except, perhaps, its author.

In other words, In Absurdia is a book so far away from mainstream fiction that I consider it unthinkable that it would have a wide audience. I’m sure its author knows that too. Indeed, the novel hints at this very thing:

Your problem is, you’ve become so reliant on symbols for reality that you fail to see meaning when it stares at you.

Or, how about another:

And in this forgotten moment, he stood and carried a message that could not be understood by any single mind in the land. It didn’t matter that nobody had either time or the inclination to receive the message; the point is, it existed.

It’s this. Exactly this. The message of In Absurdia exists, whether one can receive it or not.

Is that enough to enjoy the book?

In all honesty, despite my thirst for outside-the-mainstream and against-the-grain fiction, I’m not entirely sure this is a book I would normally read. Finishing it, I can’t say it has shattered my world – a case similar to Leonard Cohen’s Beautiful Losers that remained opaque to me, for all its splendor.

And yet, I can’t help but have immense respect for someone who’s willing to produce something so incredibly different from the overwhelming – and overwhelmingly mediocre – majority of works out there. For this reason alone, In Absurdia deserves at least a look.