Intertextuality in Palimpsest

Note: this post contains spoilers.  Do not read if you have yet to read the novel and do not want to have the novel ruined.  I do highly recommend you read Palimpsest first.  Also, sorry for the delay on this post, life has contrived to keep me from getting this out in any timely manner.

For my final post, I want to discuss my favorite element of the novel, and probably the element that appeals most to a book geek like me. Texts, and the physicality of books, are woven throughout the city of Palimpsest and the waking world. A quote from a book here, a reference there, here the roughness of the page, there a part of a book come to life as an echo of a character.

It is something a reader should expect in a novel whose name comes from the term for scrapping a parchment clean of its original text to be used again.  A palimpsest, though, retains some of the original text, no matter how much the velum is scrapped and cleaned.  And the city which bears it names also bears traces of nearly obliterated pasts which the characters slowly uncover as they move throughout the book.

I have to wonder, dear reader, if some of these textual references within Palimpsest the novel (yes, we are getting a bit complicated with the nouns) aren't traces of something left behind as well.  I'm not exactly sure yet.  Let us examine them together and see what we can see.

Books within Books

The first way we can begin to grasp hold of the textuality of this novel is by examining the novel's use of books.  They are littered throughout, seen too often to be used for mere color.  In fact, for all of the  the four main protagonists save Oleg, books act as touchstones of some sort.  Though, I imagine, even Oleg, with his sister's strange stories of the Princess of Cholera, has some sort of text predecessor to thank for those, I'm just not familiar enough with Russian literature and folklore to even know where to begin to start to look for such a text. If that does sound familiar to someone, the Princess of Cholera who wears yellow, and you can track down a title, throw it down in the comments, and I'll amend this to thank you profusely. Oleg though, as I will discuss in a bit, does have an encounter with textuality, but of a different sort that will be discussed in my next section.

Ludovico Conti, the bookbinder, is the most obvious in his connection to the world of books.  His interactions with the world are often told through the language of books, to the point that the very women he sleeps merge with the books he binds: "She moved her violet skirt aside—such an expensive thing, thick as a book cover, and her legs like pages" (84).  But there is also a single book for Ludo, one which filters his world view as much as the physically of books themselves, the Etymologiae by St. Isidore (which is a real text, and can be found here if you can read Latin and want to peruse it).

This text encompasses the world, both what we think of as monstrous imaginary and "real" into an encyclopedic system which becomes the ruling system of Ludo's own mind. Every women Ludo meets must be identified according to St. Isidore's system (and interestingly enough, they are always identified as animalistic/monstrous, save, perhaps, November). Lucia, his wife, is a chimera, whose ruling trait is a lions tail that's constantly obliterating her own trail, Nerezza is the eel-hearted; everyone must be given an identity within this structure before Ludo can have a strategy of interaction.

Amaya Sei, the train enthusiast, is given a book that she feels has been written for her at the beginning of her journey into Palimpsest, written by the lover that is her gateway into that mysterious city.  This book becomes the organizing principle for how Palimpsest presents itself for Sei. This part is a little more complicated, and my thoughts are not fully formed on the weirdness of Sei realizing she is being presented her desires transferred from her dreams, and how she cannot embrace that as fully as Palimpsest and the Third Rail (the Palimpsest character seeking her love) would want her too.  Further complicating this is that, wrapped up in her obsession with trains, book, and this portion of Palimpsest that seems to be crafted for her alone is an underlying narrative of an unresolved issue with her mother.  I don't want to say more because 1) I wish not to spoil too much, and 2) I am still in the process of chewing it over.

What does it say that when a book and a place provides us with what we think is our hearts desires and instead leads straight into trauma instead.  Are the two interrelated?

The most interesting text in this text though is The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. In Palimpsest the authorship of this novel is given as H. F. Weckweet, 1923, but in reality, it is the title of a book written by Catherynne M. Valente in 2012. (Though there is a page dedicated to the author H. F. Weckweet, I have a sneaking suspicion that given the sparsity of information on that author, that it is a creation for Palimpsest).  This book is the touch stone in November Aguilar's life, taking on the tones of a religious text:

“I will stand upon my raft until the Green Wind comes for me,” November says gravely. “My dress; my sail.”

“That’s lovely. Scripture?”

“Yes,” November answers with fervency: clasped hands, wet eyes. “Hortense Weckweet.” 

-Valente, Catherynne, Palimpsest (p. 204).

There is something so marvelous about this in particular that just begs to be examined.  November reads herself into the exploits of September, the heroine of this novel-within-a-novel, and begins using the language of that novel as a shield of courage. It allows her to tackle tasks that she'd otherwise shy away from in her solitary life. Does this text give November courage that she otherwise does not have? November certainly thinks so. Are we as readers so willing to buy into November's reading of herself? I know I'm not so sure. I think November clings to many different symbols, her Californian religious symbols, her journals and lists, to see elements of her personality as external to herself (the lists are in journals instead of in her head.) And yet, November's the strongest willed of all the four protagonist.

The presence of these books create an extra level of depth to the novel.  They are quoted from and loved, and, from a science fiction perspective, they may cause the reader to question what reality the novel is taking place in.  These are book titles that can be tracked down in our reality (even if the authorship is different), which begs the delicious question: is Palimpsest possible to track down too? Or is this an alternative universe kissing close to our own.  The details we get of the "real world" are so claustrophobic that the books are the only tangible details we have to ground us, and they imply that Palimpsest may be page-turn close.

The Terms of the Book Binder and the City

But this textual conceit is deeper then just actual books.  It is slowly, lovingly reveal to the reader, to please especially the scholar well versed in the terminology of the text.  I will admit, though I have a good amount of time around books, and am well versed in their physically, I was still pleasantly surprised how the novel's fantastic elements related back to texts:

“Pecia? That means . . .  well, I mean, it was a thing they used to do, when that book I mentioned was written. Instead of copying out enormous volumes they split it into pieces and sent it out to novices for copying. The originals were exemplars, the copied pieces were pecia. So I get it, actually, I get what you’re trying to say. She’s a copy. Someone made a copy for you.”
-Valente, Catherynne, Palimpsest (p. 298). 

These "pecia" within the space of the novel are the extensions of the city of Palimpsest itself, reaching out to answer the desires of the immigrants who stumble into it.  One of Palimpsest's pecia reaches out to Oleg Sadakov in the form of his dead sister, who he has been seeing in the form of a ghost for his entire life.  She tells Oleg that she is made for him, "'I was built to remember. I was built out of remembering'” (230).

The pecia are both objects built by the city and extensions of the city:

“Palimpsest. Olezhka, did you think it did not love you and pity you? Do you think I did not? For I am as much this place as I am Lyudmila."
Valente, Catherynne, Palimpsest (p. 231).

The pecia, as partial copies of the city, executes the city's will on a more individual level.  In this strange dream-like (but don't call it a dream, you'll offend the locals), the city is aware enough to be concerned for the desires of her citizens and immigrants, to copy parts of herself and shape those parts to fit their needs and desires. A living city. But again we come back to the issue that came up with Sei, in a world that is providing you with a creation that is built to fulfill your desires, is that really a good thing?

Note: From here out, I cannot avoid spoiling the end of the book with my discussion, you have been warned dear reader.  Go, read the book, then come back and then read my discussion.

As the characters struggle to gain a more permanent place in Palimpsest, Ludo compares himself and other immigrants to the city's name sake:

“We’re coming. The world is changing. And even if every door frame in Palimpsest runs red, someone will find a way.” Ludo chuckles. “Do you know what a palimpsest is, Ululiro? It’s vellum, parchment that has been written upon and then scraped clean, so that someone else can write on it. Can’t you hear us? The sound of us scraping?”
-Valente, Catherynne, Palimpsest (p. 311).

There is something very striking about this, about immigration as palimpsest.  The old history is never truly lost, but as Ludo describes it, it is inexorable.  However, Ludo understands respect the old Palimpsest wants and deserves, he's spent his life paying homage to the ruins of Rome and binding books.  He gives his tongue to Ululiro, the general to the loosing side, because all the veterans of the war (which has been still on going this entire book) have been robbed of their ability to speech (pretty apt description of war, truthfully).  He becomes a bridge element between the two waves, the new ink on the page and the former writing.

I think, dear reader, that I shall end it here, except to say that I figured out who the narrator was, and that revelation was awesome, and it fits with the topic of this post, but I'm just going to suggest that you pick up the book to find out.

Palimpsest via Amazon

My own progress: Complete.  Looking for the next book to read.