reading Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things by Gilbert Sorrentino. yeah, because he died. I've never read him except, I'm sure, a few poems long ago. just another gap. I think poets should write novels, that the quality of poetry that one can bring to this craggy form might allow for something unique. possibly because novelists are fitted for plot first of all, and plot is often the most perfunctory aspect of a novel (like melody versus harmony). a sense of poetry in the writer seems a good idea. by sense of poetry I don't mean flowery language, that kind of well-weathered simulation, I mean the sense of open form and possibility that poetry is. James Schuyler's novels effortless avoid plotpush strictures, allowing for some amazing subtleties. Sorrentino's novel brings these thoughts up because he seems to confront the assumed necessities of the genre. he does this with asides by the narrator and footnotes by the author's. does separation exist between the two? I'm working on that one. the 1st chapter carefully portrays one of the characters. the tone is wry, yes, but also a bit untouchably superiour. the narrator participates in the story (barely, as yet), so this superiourity can work, tho as yet I find it tiresome. it's hard to read fiction in which the author shows little sympathy for the characters. I'm not yet sure how far that goes here, just an impression so far. the 2nd chapter takes on another character, 1st character's husband. I kinda want to skip these surgeries. I guess I want Sorrentino to weird out in the manner of Flann O'Brien. the author photo (window to the soul) suggests that he mightn't: full sideburns, studious glasses, and a dark turtleneck, circa 1971. if only he had a rapier scar on his cheek. I realize that I approach this book at a critically clumsy angle, but I defend my right to be tired of perfunctory novels (and poetry too, but that's another matter). narrative isn't dead, it just needs to be seen differently. narrative is not as simple as a conveyor belt. that Sorrentino can mention Spicer, Williams, O'Hara is a right step. you know, an alternate reality where people like the aforesaid can actually matter. jeepers, Stephen King makes passing notice of Creeley and Olson here and there in his novels. horror has the advantage of being of a different world. domestic novels really make my eyeballs squeak, unless someone has the grace and subtlety of Schuyler.