A Confused Begining

Here begins the book of the nature of beasts, Ludo thinks. All the best bestiaries begin that way. If I were to write of this place, I could make a book longer than Isidore’s, greater than the Etymologiae.*

-Valente, Catherynne M., Palimpsest (p 175). 

I have been drowning in this book, drowning in it so much that, in grappling with it, I have decided to try something brave.  I have decided to return to my academic roots, my journalistic past, and give to you, dear, faceless reader who I have yet to meet, the tortured outpourings of my struggles with meaning.

Since it appears I have already started in media res, let me back track a little and at least tell you a bit about the book I am struggling with, the book that promises to launch a thousand confused thoughts. (Permit me, dear reader, to consider the Greek metaphor for the moment, its fun). I'll be coy and leave myself a mystery for the moment.

I find myself about halfway through with Catherynne M. Valente's gorgeous, confusing, and mesmerizing book, Palimpsest. If you've never encountered her unique prose before, go hunt some down, right now.  I'll wait.  Seriously... Its the kind of prose you cannot encounter without it leaving its mark on your own interior monologue. I was reading some of the other reviews for this book, trying to orient myself within the text (and honestly, just curious to see what others say before I embarked on this crazy adventure), and there Valente's language was, echoed through the language of every writer.  I will be honest, I'm fighting her prose influence right now, and, since you listened to me and tasted of her language, you know full well how much I'm failing.

This infectious language just adds to the meaning of the book though.  The main trope of Palimpsest is a sexually-transmitted city (Yes, its wild. I'll admit, until I saw Annalee Newitz spell it, I thought only the "maps" were transmitted... that will become clear... or at least less murky in a bit).  Valente's language echoes that transmission and infection, so that even the reader, safe behind the quarantine barrier of the page, is not as safe as they may think. They too are becoming infected by Palimpsest.

There is something I have noticed about this novel.  I keep meaning to talk about it in a rational and orderly manner, and it keeps derailing that attempt.  Bear with me, reader, and maybe this whole blog won't be this chaotic.

So, what is Palimpsest? What the heck is going on in this novel? Palimpsest, at least to the point I've read (I'm about 175 pages in, so I share in the characters confusion) is an alternative world arrived at when people have sexual relations with individuals with map fragments on their skin.  These fragments indicate where a tryst with that individual will take the lover for the evening, for once sleep comes they are transported to Palimpsest. There is something about Palimpsest that makes everyone that stumbles once into it long to find it.

But there are symbols here that I am just chewing over again and again, trying to find the perfect interpretive framework for: the skin maps, like angry scars, that transfer from lover to anonymous lover; Palimpsest itself, dream-like, but where calling it a dream is a horrid social taboo; longing for another place to the exclusion of your present.

I hope you will bear with me, dear reader, as I both figure out this book, and find my voice for this blog.

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Intrigued, looking for something to read, pick up a copy and read along with me.  Lets see if we can't figure out this book together.

Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente

My own progress: 175 pages in.  Ludovico's inner monologue finally forced me to write this down and post it.

*If you are interested in looking at Isidore's Etymologiae (because looking up books in books is fun), here is the Wikipedia article for it.  As I will discuss later, this book has a couple of interesting book Easter eggs.