DARK WAVES AND LIGHT MATTER

A collection of poet Goldbarth’s (Jan. 31, 1974, etc.) previously published essays which burst into the black night like an explosion of firecrackers: eruptions of color and jazz riffs of language that ultimately fade to nothing. Moments of pure brilliance punctuate these ten essays, each a tribute and a rhapsody to the questions and conditions of being human. Sometimes Goldbarth’s language is so right, so exact, with the English language at its most scintillating, sharp, and lapidary. The whole effect, though, of these pastiches becomes the vicarious, voyeuristic, and empty pleasure of witnessing the author’s masturbatory revels: oh, how he impresses himself (and you, too, dear reader!) with his stratospheric lexicon and compendium of fascinating trivia. His erudition is unquestionable (as attested by his encyclopedic knowledge of comic book villains, all fictional characters who happen to be green, and his laundry list of important events of 1913), but the mishmash which results from this eclectic collection of trivia only blinds and hides the moments of humanity and compassion which should be the book’s core. Essays which probe the nature of time and memory, the fractured essence of identity, and the real potential for human obsolescence become mired in the extended conceits he draws about them: the whirlwinds of details and trivia surrounding his metaphors eventually overcome the real subjects of the essays. The end result stands, not as an investigation into the human condition, but paradoxically, as a shield against it. If heady wordplay and postmodern pastiche were sufficient ingredients for meaningful existential enquiry, these essays would stand as monumental achievements; unfortunately, they are limp and lifeless lumps drowned in their own syrup of superficiality.