At Swim-Two-Birds

Wanted: A reader for Flann O'Brien's AT SWIM-TWO-BIRDS. 1) Requisites: Forgiveness of the not-very-linear, willingness to suspend disbelief and attachment to conventions, flexibility to take hairpin turns and seeming leaps of logic without a moment's notice, and tolerance of sloth, drink and the occasional effluvia. 2) Experience and education: familiarity with James Joyce, Samuel Beckett and Irish literary culture of the early 20th century helpful. Competitive emphasis awarded applicants with a working definition of "metafiction." 3) Job description: Sort out nested narratives of authors and their characters; identify author's concepts regarding the creative process; laugh at author's lampoons, ironies and jokes; develop a high appreciation of author's conceptuality and use of voice; locate surprising floes of prose through which echo all kinds of intelligence; don't worry about getting absolutely every reference; appreciate William Gass's critical introduction to this edition, which adds to the fun and vision, and spoils nothing. 4) Compensation and benefits: Never boring, earns reader the metafictional and modern Irish literature badge of experience without much bloodletting. 5) Work location: Ideally read in proximity to others with whom insights and jokes can be shared but post-college isolation doable; bed not recommended unless weird dreams desired; does not go overly well with sand, gooey sunscreen and the sounds of the top 40 blasting from the radio three beach blankets away. The local pub would quite suit the content.

Published in 1939, the same year that James Joyce published Finnegan's Wake, this novel was lauded in its day by Joyce himself, Samuel Beckett, and Graham Greene. A wild concoction involving a completely disjointed narrative, multiple points of view, farce, satire, and parody, this "novel" offers any student of Irish literature unlimited subject matter--and equally unlimited laughs. In this unique experiment with point of view, author Brian O'Nolan has used a pseudonym, Flann O'Brien, to tell the story of the novelist/student N, who tells his own story at the same time that he is writing a book about an invented novelist (Trellis), who is himself developing another story, while Tracy, still another author, tells a cowboy story and appears in the previous narratives.Believing that characters should be born fully adult, one of the writers tries to keep them all together--in this case, at the Red Swan Hotel--so that he can keep track of them and keep them sober while he plans the narrative and writes and rewrites the beginning and ending of the novel. But even when the primary writer stops writing to go out with his friends, the characters of the other (invented) fictional writers continue to live on in the narrative and comment on writing. Before long, the reader is treated to essays on the nature of books vs. plays, polemics about the evils of drink, parodies of folk tales and ballads, a breathless wild west tale starring an Irish cowboy, the legends of Ireland, catalogues of sins, tales of magic and the supernatural, almanacs of folk wisdom and the cures for physical ills, and even the account of a trial--and that's just for starters. Totally unique, O'Brien's creation defies the conventions, both of its day and of the present, and even the most jaded reader will be astonished at the unexpected twists the narrative takes. Steeped in the traditions of the Irish story-teller, O'Brien keeps those traditions alive by creating multiple narrators to tell multiple stories simultaneously, while also skewering the very traditions of which he--and they--are a part. Mary Whipple

This is, above all, a funny and playful book, playful with itself and the various conceits of fiction: the suspension of disbelief, the conventions of form, and the pretensions of rhetoric. Think of it as Pirandello meets the Marx Brothers."At Swim-Two-Birds" delights in rapid-fire wordplay and sophomoric experimentation (there are three alternative beginnings to the story). O'Brien succeeds in this bombastic flair partly because he doesn't take the literary enterprise--his own included--too seriously. He races along at a Groucho-like pace, only to slow down in wonderfully overwritten and overwrought scenes:"Together the two strong men, joyous in the miracle of their health, put their bulging thews and the fine ripple of their sinews together at the arm-pits of the stricken king as they bent over him with their grunting red faces, their four heels sinking down in the turf of the jungle with the stress of their fine effort as they hoisted the madman to the tremulous support of his withered legs." Indeed! James Joyce praised O'Brien as "a real author, with the true comic spirit," and Graham Greene called this "a book in a thousand....in the line of Tristram Shandy and Ulysses." Like Joyce, O'Brien dazzles us with language and the sheer sound of words. The narrative is interrupted with rhetorical notes ("Name of figure of speech: Litotes [or Meiosis]"), populated by varying narrators "Tour de force by Brinsley, vocally interjected, being a comparable description in the Finn canon:," and buoyed by dialogue that variously recalls 30's screwball comedies,B-movie Westerns, and bad courtroom dramas. O'Brien himself offers some literary "theory" that illustrates his comic sensibility and offers sly clues for his delighted (and maybe perplexed) reader: "...a satisfactory novel should be a self-evident sham to which the reader could regulate at will the degree of his credulity," and, "Most authors spend their time saying what has been said before--usually said much better (Page 33)." Flann O'Brien's command of--and upending of--narrative forms, and the hilarity of his farce make this an essential addition to any comic library. Then again, I could be wrong. (Buy it!)

Is Swift's A Tale of a Tub a great novel? Is Carlysle's Sartor Resartus a great novel? Is Tristram Shandy a great novel? Each of these works takes as its basis another form, whether the controversialist pamphlet, the philosophical treatise, or the biography, and comes out the other side with a new type of work, as well as a new work. These books occupy an originary and terminal position: they are the first and the last of their kind. For readers, these works are stones -- either the stones that become the foundations for understanding or the stones that drag them down. At Swim-Two-Birds takes as its foil the popular novel and the Irish renaissance myth discovery and the personal narrative. Why should a novel have only one beginning, O'Brien (aka Brian O'Nolan, aka Brian Nolan -- a man who got into university with a forged interview with John Joyce) asks? Why one ending? If, as some reviewers have suggested, you try to find the "structure," you're missing the point. Trying to mash this book into a novel's mold is misguided, and O'Brien will eventually make that clear. In fact, it is the story of a college student (fictional), who is writing a novel about a man (fictional) who is writing an Irish western (which cannot be). Additionally, the student's translation homework -- tales from the Dun Cow Book -- emerge in a full Lady Gregory parody and begin to interact with the other fictions, and the characters of the Irish Western themselves begin to resent their lots in life. The book plays games on so many levels that reading it the way one reads a novel is useless. This is not about information and straight lines, but about play -- sometimes rough and tumble and sometimes gentle. All of the narrators lie, by the way, and there is always one more frame of fiction beyond the one in action at the moment. Do not buy this book if you're intolerant of play. Do not buy this book if you look at books for "what happens." If, however, you're one of those who enjoys, instead of resents, reading milestones like Sartor Resartus or think that Italo Calvino is extremely sophisticated, this book (not novel) will be the greatest delight the 20th century can offer you.

I first came across Flann O'Brien in the shape of his novel "The Poor Mouth". My University lecturer lent me the book suggesting that his treatment of the subject of the Irish Language might give me some insight on how to approach an essay on Joyce and Beckett's treatment of the same. Whilst it must be said I thoroughly enjoyed the novel, I could see little relationship between what I considered this O'Brien's coarse impudence, and the styles of the undisputed masters of Irish literature in English. My mistake was that I should have read "At Swim-Two-Birds" first. It is here, in his first novel, that O'Brien establishes his right to rank among the heavyweights; his intellectual highground from which he can descend mercilessly upon any batallion of false pride he damned well choses.Be warned. This is not a book for the lover of Jane Austen romance or a Dickens narrative. Rather, it demands parallels with the likes of Sterne for its sheer structural trickery - (imagine, if you will, the author who writes about an author who writes about an author whose characters revolt against his authorship, in taking over the narrative for themselves), -parallels with Beckett in the subversion of continuity and chronology of plot, and the frustrating of plot development with obsessive attention to mudane detail; parallels with Joyce in respect of the inclusion of historical classicism, here in the shape of the heroes of old Ireland, not least the mad king Sweeney whose inclusion in one of the fleeting strands of narrative rather tenuously povides the title for the novel itself.Even this torturous attempt at grasping some semblance of what "At Swim-Two-Birds" is about, does not even begin to scratch the surface of the richness of form, of content, of style contained within its too few pages. When you read this book, and you should if you love literature, take your time over every page; bask in its complications; marvel at its ingenuity; guffaw at its hilarity. Before you realise it, it'll be over, and you'll have read one of the most intriguing books ever written. Now what was it about, again?