- - - - -
- - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - -
[an error occurred while processing this directive]
- - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - -
[an error occurred while processing this directive]
- - - - - - - -
Pif Magazine
ISSN: 1094-2726
Published by:
Pif, LLC
PMB 248
4820 Yelm Hwy SE
Suite B
Lacey, WA 98503-4903
|
|
| PAST REVIEWS | MORE REVIEWS |
Patchwork Girl : Page 1, 2
Once the monster is pieced together and has had all of Shelley she can take, she leaves England for America. The story section is by far the closest thing to an interesting narrative found in Patchwork Girl, and makes the best use of the form. In this section the monster ages greatly, moving from the eighteenth century to the twentieth in a single story space, which allows Jackson to speak in a way much more natural for her. It is also during the story that we learn that the monster is in fact the author of the graveyard, broken accents and story sections. When the monster reaches America, there are two paths the reader can choose - that of mistress or monster. In one, the monster believes that no one has to be a monster, but revolts against people and rejects everything slightly unusual, ending up morally monstrous. In the other, she thinks that everything in America is monstrous, accepts those around her and finds love. Both paths cycle through some of the same text, most major instances occur in both paths, and the result is much the same. Jackson uses the form in this case to create two separate but similar stories which stand alone, although they are best enjoyed if they are both read.
In the body of text, the multi-branching structure that Jackson uses in the story becomes a more complex non-linear linking system, with unfortunate results. A single story space will lead to five separate links and certain links will cycle through themselves repeatedly. Although the reader is able to pick the story and create one's own connections, the way in which certain asides lead deep away from the main section may leave one feeling more lost and confused than empowered. The body of text/broken accents is also where Jackson allows her monster to get most philosophical. She creates a number of story spaces in which she confronts issues of authorship, birth, death, resurrection, the nature of time, duality, heritage, and the challenges and benefits of hypertext. Her theory on the sectional perspective that hypertext allows readers to have sheds light on what she is trying to accomplish:
When I open a book I know where I am, which is restful. My reading is spatial and even volumetric. I tell myself, I am a third of the way down through a rectangular solid, I am a quarter of the way down the page, I am here on the page, here on this line, here, here, here. But where am I now? I am in a here and a present moment that has no history and no expectations for the future.
It is obvious that Jackson wishes her readers to be stripped of the spatial comfort to which they are accustomed. Unfortunately, the frustration created by the disconnected story sections is nothing compared to the disappointment felt when the reader realizes that none of this theorizing enriches the narrative.
What distinguishes good literature is not always what is included; it is sometimes what is left out. In this text, Jackson leaves little out, sticking in every quasi-relevant scrap under the rationale that the form and plot necessitate it. Without the tricks that the hypertext form allows, however, the writing itself must stand up to scrutiny. When a character is "confronted in alternation with the roiling, scummy surface of the reeking bay and a high, aristocratic sky of a frivolous powdered blue," one wonders what the author was trying to accomplish. Patchwork Girl is at best a sort of intellectual "choose-your-own-adventure" story. At worst, it is a confusing collection of quotes, thoughts and plot, neither well-written nor well-planned.
Tell us what you think. Email talkback@pifmagazine.com
Want Pif to review your book? See Review
Suggestions for more details.
Lisa Ciccarello likes watermelon.