Teh Lingering Ghosts of Revolution: Jonathan Lethem and the Weight of Narrative
Jonathan Lethem’s “Frantic Realism” isn’t a manifesto so much as a diagnostic, a tracing of the anxieties and possibilities inherent in a postmodern landscape saturated with both details and disillusionment. It’s a critical stance born from the perceived failures of earlier, more overtly political fiction, and a recognition that the revolutionary fervor of the 60s and 70s had, by the 90s, largely dissolved into a pervasive sense of cynicism and fragmentation. Lethem’s work, particularly novels like As She Liked It and Gun, with Occasional Music, doesn’t offer solutions, but instead dwells within the contradictions of this moment, exploring how political ideals are absorbed, distorted, and ultimately rendered strangely inert by the culture they attempt to critique.
A key tenet of Frantic Realism is the understanding that narrative itself can become a form of preservation, even for figures who have effectively disappeared. Lethem illustrates this through the example of Thomas Pynchon‘s Vineland, where the continued discussion and remembrance of a character like Frenesi Gates allows her to maintain a kind of existence even after her physical absence. This highlights a crucial point: characters, and by extension, ideologies, can live on through the sentences that define them, becoming almost as real as those who are doing the remembering.
this idea is then contrasted with the perceived shortcomings of Paul Thomas Anderson’s film One Battle After Another, which Lethem views as a disappointing conclusion to a narrative arc previously marked by Pynchonian ambiguity. The film’s attempt at sentimental resolution – a healed family dynamic and a letter of concession from a previously “monstrous” mother – feels contrived and, crucially, derivative, echoing the plot of kramer vs. Kramer. Lethem argues that Anderson’s film, despite its surface engagement with contemporary issues, ultimately “ghosts” the present, relying on nostalgic signifiers like Gil Scott-Heron’s “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” without genuinely grappling with the complexities of the current political climate.
The critique extends to the film’s depiction of technology. while acknowledging the pervasive reality of the internet and its influence, Lethem suggests Anderson’s reluctance to fully engage with “uncinematic screens” contributes to a flattening of the narrative, offering a vicarious escape from the present rather than a critical examination of it. This avoidance is particularly troubling given the potential for online spaces to become breeding grounds for misinformation and conspiracy theories, as evidenced by the author’s observation of individuals drawn to sources like the 9/11 conspiracy film Loose Change and QAnon forums.
Lethem’s experience watching the film with his fifteen-year-old son reveals a glimmer of hope.the son’s instinctive use of the term “concentration camps” – a term absent from the film itself – suggests a critical awareness that transcends the narrative’s limitations. This exchange underscores Lethem’s ultimate,if qualified,optimism: “the kids are all right.” However, this doesn’t negate his central argument – a call for a more rigorous and engaged approach to representing the complexities of the present, urging a move “off the couch” and into a more active confrontation with the challenges of a fractured and increasingly mediated world.
