2 out of 4 stars
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Echoes from the Void by A. O. Nathan is not an easy book. It is difficult to know where to begin a review when there is little to speak about regarding plot or characterisation. The book's description piqued my interest: absurdism, madness and James Joyce seemed like a great cocktail, so I eagerly started reading. I soon found that, like Joyce, Nathan focuses on language as a a site for meaning (or indeed, non-meaning) and is concerned about linguistic effects rather than narrative or intelligibility. Language assaults the reader in this book like a tsunami: it completely overwhelms and disorients. It is not a comfortable read, by any means, and it is full of challenge and complexity.
Unfortunately, though the experiment is full of promise, I do not think that Nathan fully delivers. The ambition is present, and deserves great credit, but I was not wholly convinced by the book. For this reason, I give Echoes from the Void 2 out of 4 stars, while carefully qualifying this by saying I can easily imagine it having a strong cult following, or even plenty of readers who are more willing to surrender to its flow and direction.
The book opens with the main protagonist, Howzer, travelling aimlessly through a bizarre dreamscape, encountering jargon-spouting humans, anthropomorphised animals and a host of inanimate objects (which last are either eaten or stored away in bags and pockets - in most cases never to be heard of again). And this is exactly how the main narrative ends, as well. This is not a book for those looking for plot, or a story arc: Nathan frustrates these expectations in favour of a different approach.
Of the four sections of the book, sections one and three are the longest, and follow the actions and reactions of Howzer in this strange world. The only hints of stability we are given are in the characters of his 'bad boy' best friend and roommate - who is an unnamed walrus - and the mysterious female 'M'. Both of these characters come and go frequently, providing Howzer with friends and foils who are just as confused and conflicted as himself. He has conversations with both, and travels with them to different locales (symbolic places such as a church or an art museum), in his search for meaning. Just as they approach the edge of some sort of reciprocity or shared understanding - or just as Howzer hopes that the locations he visits will bring him clarity or hope - this is cruelly undercut by 'the voices'.
These voices issue from everywhere: strangers he meets; birds and animals; the radio and the TV. Each voice embarks on a long insane (and inane) rant, a stream of nonsense that often lasts for pages. At one point, too, one of these voices explicitly confirms our suspicion that only Howzer can hear it, giving us a chilling insight into Howzer's mental state.
Although they add a clever pattern to the text I found these interceptions to be far too lengthy. They easily take up the same amount of space as the actual 'plot'. While there are sometimes sentences or ideas that are truly striking and poetic, these are few and far between. The rest is a nauseating, messy cacophany of scatalogy, violence and blasphemy: which is, I understand, the point. But these speeches were too extended to have full impact. It rapidly got to the stage where I groaned inwardly when another tirade started. I think these sections, if severely edited, would pack a much bigger punch.
The other two sections - two and four - contain a seemingly more detached voice (perhaps the author?) and contain tormented philosophical musings on language, meaning and madness. They were much more brief, and for this reason much stronger. They also contained some phrases which struck me as wryly self-reflexive:
or indeed - dare I suggest it -Division of fanatical lists into poetry,
The language in this book was its strong point, as promised. Nathan employs a huge vocabulary with confidence and verve, and the frequent puns, rhymes and other forms of wordplay are excellent. There are many highly original descriptions, for example:this crap needs editing, or some organisation.
I also found a lot of entertaining quasi-proverbial sayings, such as the following:The moon was slathered on the sky, dripping like wax against the lagoon of space.
There was also some measure of meaning granted to the attentive reader in the form of repeated images and motifs. The first was the motif of birds: they acted as messengers and catalysts, but ritually ended up being shot by Howzer. Dust was the second - a fitting, if predictable, image of decay and atrophy. The last, and most recurrent, was the word 'chowder'. I have no idea why it was used, but its very randomness made it conspicuous.Yesterday is like the egg and tomorrow is like the hammer that smashes that egg.
Nathan's work reminded me of the following authors, without living up to the standard of any: Lewis Carroll, Edward Lear, Mervyn Peake, Mikhail Bulgakov, Franz Kafka, and James Joyce. This is an impressive list to be able to summon up in a reader's mind, even if it is only for negative comparison.
Finally, if the words grotty, anarchic, sickening, depressive and hypnotic do not turn you off, then A. O. Nathan's Echoes from the Void will tick all of those boxes. Having read that the book comes out of his personal experience of depression and imprisonment, its themes and tone are given an added power; but unfortunately its bagginess outweighs its brains and its ambition outstrips its execution. My opinion falls squarely with one of the voices that rambles at Howzer:
******And you're drowning in the sheer volume of language you imbibe. There's too much of it. Who could memorize the stacks? And who has time to listen to their recitation?
Echoes from the Void
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