Wryly Metafictional Authorial Self-Reference is dying of overwork.
“Are you there, Paul Auster?” he croaks from his bed.
“Yes, I’m here,” says Paul Auster. He owes so much to the old rogue.
“And Martin Amis, are you there?”
“Of course I’m here,” replies Martin Amis, his voice cracking.
“And JG Ballard? Kurt Vonnegut? Douglas Coupland? Are you all there?”
“Yes, we’re here,” they say. “We’re all here.”
And Wryly Metafictional Authorial Self-Reference suddenly sits bolt upright and yells, “If you’re all here, then who the hell is writing this?”
Saturday, September 04, 2010
That winking feeling
(Inspired by Reverse Stockbroker.)
Labels:
books,
postmodernism
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6 comments:
Dunno, I'm too bust minding the shop.
Eh - busy, that is.
(And another piece of smartarsery bites the dust.)
Heh. Love this. Metafiction is appealing because it's acceptable smartarsery.
I had the very bizarre experience last month of being told, at an academic conference, that "no-one's writing about metafiction any more." Except, apparently, me. It's both dying of overwork and hopelessly unfashionable.
I like this. Or "Billy" does.
Don’t worry, BTW, at least you got the joke.
Thanks, Extemporanea. Maybe nobody’s writing about metafiction because everyone’s writing it?
Thank you, ““““““Billy”””””.
God.
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