Kunstlerroman is a fancy literary term given to any novel in which
artistic consciousness is the central concern, as with Joyce's
Stephen Hero. However, Rilke's Nalte or some of Valery's prose
meditations can be taken as extensions of the concept into the more
general area of diary-like aesthetic self-analysis, and it is in
such a category that one must place Nemerov's Journal.
Unfortunately, that is about as far as one can go with flattering
comparisons. Nemerov's reflections are rather randomly conceived
notebook jottings, playfully or wanly entered. A mild frustration
is the dominant mood (Nemerov the poet wants to write fiction but
he is at a creative impasse); the method is associational: long
stretches of personal recollections, largely psychologically
oriented, mixed with philosophical finger-exercises and so forth.
Nemerov is at his best with cogent references to the masters
(Dante, Pascal, Shakespeare, Freud, James). His own remarks are
usually unexceptional ("Life is very short, a brief instant of
light; but every instant of it may contain all eternity"), or
epigrammatically cute ("It is not my childhood that I seek, but the
childhood of my art. As much as to say, Mommy, where do images come
from?"). Of course, Nemerov escapes banality by employing a
shrewdly ironic tone throughout and suggesting all sorts of
cultivated nuances or personae. But even that eventually palls.
(Kirkus Reviews)
The only way out, writes Howard Nemerov, is the way through, just
as you cannot escape death except by dying. Being unable to write,
you must examine in writing this being unable, which becomes for
the present--henceforth?--the subject to which you are condemned.
This is the record of the struggle to compose a novel; a struggle
transformed by Nemerov into a far-reaching exploration of the
creative process itself. He often shows bravery and shrewdness; the
book is full of fine criticism and psychological insight. As
always, his prose has that ease and transparency that make one
forget one is reading; one seems simply to hear a voice speaking.
Nemerov's improvised self-analysis has weaknesses, but few that he
himself doesn't eventually recognize.--New York Times Book Review
In an age of explicitness, Nemerov's Journal of the Fictive Life is
explicitly without vulgarity; in an age of revelation, it reveals
only what counts. More then a book about creativity, it is a
beautiful creation.--Richard G. Stern
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