Detachment

Nicholson Baker: one strange dude.  Undeniably and proudly male. Also unarguably odd.

I have many reactions to The Fermata, his novel about a young adult male who has the power to stop time (he can act while the rest of the world is paused), and uses that power almost exclusively to kindly and lovingly undress women, to masturbate to the sights, and to indulge his sexual fantasies.  He is for the most part harmless and perhaps even loving in his way, but also tellingly irrelevant in a social connective sense.  Nobody knows what he’s up to, and he seems to prefer it that way … at least for most of the book
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A knowing look, isn't it? Et tu?

We’ve all experienced the feeling of existing outside of time.  We’re so completely absorbed in what we’re doing that when we finally look up we don’t know if five minutes have passed or five hours.  And we don’t really care.  I often have that feeling in doing musical work.  I also remember it distinctly when emerging from a movie theater by myself after seeing Bergman’s The Seventh Seal for the first time.  I had no idea where I was, what time it was, or who was around me, and that was just fine.  I wanted to stay in the Bergman movie world.  I was experiencing a sort of cultural/social version of the bends as I gradually and somewhat painfully adjusted to being back in reality.

Baker’s protagonist regularly experience this kind of displacement when he stops time. He considers the ability to be a great gift, but the resulting isolation is stifling.  Only at the end does he realize that he might be better of being more honest with those around him, even if that means sacrificing his special powers.  The need for real connection does, in the long run, trump all.

But for 95% of the book, the protagonist is stuck in a powerful but lonely place, a spot where he can manipulate, he can fondle, he can masturbate, he can fantasize, but he can’t truly connect.  He recognizes the powers are irresistibly attractive to him but he also knows on some level that in accepting the devil’s bargain he is condemning himself to a life sentence of isolation, endless striving, and perhaps despair.

But the language is so rational, so reasonable, intellectual and compelling. Also funny, and sharply insightful. Who wouldn’t want that protected and special perspective?

Maybe it’s a bit like walking out on that glass-floored space over the Grand Canyon.  You should be falling.  You feel so very strongly you should be falling.  But the colors are beautiful, and you look down and think of certain impressionist paintings you love.  You’re isolated in your wonder as you at least temporarily“don’t fall”.

Or maybe like a doctor who operates on himself.  He makes the incision and pulls back the tissue to reveal a beautiful tumor.  He can’t help admire the sight, like looking at clouds in the sky and finding first a dog, then seconds later a flower, then a tree … all in the shifting cloud shapes.  But he’s really looking at his own disease, his own demise. But it’s still beautiful.

Or maybe it's just a fun and fanciful metaphor for hard won male wisdom

Is there a female in the world that can appreciate Nicholson Baker?  Doubt it.

I was so relieved that in the last twenty pages the protagonist takes a step toward an honest relationship, and learns to sacrifice the privileges granted by his special powers.  If he can learn, maybe there’s hope for us all.

There’s chick lit.  Then there’s Nicholson Baker.