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Review of Matthew Simmons’s ‘A Jello Horse’ (by Christopher Higgs)
I see this text consisting of a heart and appendages.
The heart = the funeral.
The appendages = the memories (of what it’s like to be a kid & of previous dating experiences) – plus the experiences at the roadside attractions.
Oddly, the heart (the funeral section) seemed to be of tangential importance. What seemed to hold the most significance, for me anyways, were the appendages. But perhaps that observation says more about me as a reader – and what I see as a tension between reality and imagination – than about the text itself.
As a reader, I generally tend to dislike conventional realism because I find it uninteresting to read a transcript of a situation that could feasibly occur in the ordinary reality in which I live: in the case of A Jello Horse it would be what I am calling the heart — the transcript of driving to a house party, playing pinball, going to a funeral, going to a health clinic, etc. And to be honest, I can’t really understand why other people don’t feel the same negative reaction to this kind of realism. I mean, we already share this ordinary existence, why would I want someone to tell me about their version of it? That would be like someone giving me a running commentary while I’m watching a Lakers game. It’s like: dude, I’m watching it with you, I don’t need you to tell me your version of it – I already have my version, which I will always value greater than anyone else’s version. What I don’t have is whatever strange imaginary things other people hide in their heads, which is one of the primary reasons I turn to literature in the first place.
So what I find most interesting is when a writer writes something unfeasible slash unordinary, be it linguistically, conceptually, formally, etc. And I think Simmons accomplishes this triumphantly in the sections I have identified as appendages. In the unfeasibility/unordinariness of The House of 2000 Telephones, where every phone works and has a separate line. In the unfeasibility/unordinariness of the Jackalope Village, and the curious conversation the narrator holds with the wife of the owner. In the unfeasibility/unordinariness of the childhood dreamscapes. These things are really superlative, really interesting, imaginative, creative, and engaging. What I find less interesting, imaginative, creative, and engaging is the transcript of ordinary reality at the heart of the text.
So this is what I’m thinking when I finish reading A Jello Horse: the heart is eh and the appendages are sweet. I contemplate writing down my initial reactions but decide to think about it for a while, give the book a chance to sit in my brain.
That was yesterday evening.
And now I’m wondering about the relationship between the heart and the appendages. Do they need one another? Would the book be more satisfying without the heart, since I’ve indicated my affinity for the appendages. My answer is: I’m not sure. Part of me wants to say that the realism gets in the way or drags the piece down. But then part of me wants to say that the realism gives the work an anchor from which the appendages can bloom: i.e. maybe craziness without an anchor might not always be sufficient. This gets me thinking more about the heart.
It’s easy for me to locate the appendages as the fun and interesting aspects of the text, sort of like how you can locate the fun and interesting aspects of a potential lover. But sooner or later, if that lover is going to become anything more than a lover, there needs to be something substantive. Maybe this is the role of realism in A Jello Horse. Maybe the text needs that anchor, that substance, that realism, to give it a kind of gravity it would not possess if all were appendage, if all were unfeasible, if all were imaginary.
I’ve decided to reconsider my initial reaction. I think the heart is important and vital to the complexity of the text and without it something important would be missing. I still don’t think the heart is the most interesting part of the text, but I think the fact of it being there actually works to make the appendages as interesting as they are.
The heart as counterbalance.
And in the case of A Jello Horse, I have to commend the counterbalance for resisting the contemporary urge toward hipster irony. That is one really strong aspect of the realism in this text: it feels honest and sincere. For that I am ever thankful. None of the characters are trying to be cool. None of the characters are phony (as Holden Caulfield would say). They are just people. Not remarkably interesting people, but then again so few real people are remarkably interesting.
One final thing I wanted to mention was the choice of using the second person. I think the most productive thing a critic can do is try and explain how the text is working without judging its effectiveness, on the basis that if the critic can explain the mechanisms clearly then a potential reader can deduce the efficacy for themselves. For my part, I see the second person working as a way for the narrator to distance himself from the story. Maybe it’s a way of saying “I” without admitting culpability. Maybe it’s a way of being in the world without admitting that one is in the world. Or maybe, because of the reminiscent (nostalgic?) quality of the text, it is functioning as a tool of/for memory. By saying “You” the narrator can address a former version of himself. Like how if I were talking about the 21-year-old version of myself, which feels nothing like the 31-year-old version of myself, I would call that Chris “You” because he doesn’t feel anything like “I” feel. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it is a way of showing that the narrator is telling a tale that transpired many moons ago, to a version of himself far removed from the version who is actually typing the words. At any rate, I think the use of second person in this text is interesting and important and shouldn’t be dismissed as gimmicky. It’s not for nothing that he chose to use the second person. It’s not for nothing.
In the end, I appreciate the challenge Matthew Simmons presents: combining the feasible and unfeasible, the ordinary and the unordinary, reality and imagination; and I believe reading and thinking about A Jello Horse has pushed me toward becoming a better reader and thinker.
— Christopher Higgs is the author of the chapbook ‘Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously’ and edits the art blog Bright Stupid Confetti.
(Order A Jello Horse from Publishing Genius)
Tags: a jello horse, Christopher Higgs, Matthew Simmons
Really can’t wait to read this.
Mr. Higgs, as I’ve come to expect, has enlightened more than a few things for me with his review: the heart as counterbalance. How good is that?
Good job to all involved.
Really can’t wait to read this.
Mr. Higgs, as I’ve come to expect, has enlightened more than a few things for me with his review: the heart as counterbalance. How good is that?
Good job to all involved.
Chris,
This is a really fitting question for A Jello Horse. I think of the childhood scenes to be tangential and disconnected from the story, and the funeral trip to be the heart of the story (including the consolation party before hand, the drive there, the actual funeral stuff, the stuff in the house party before the funeral, and I guess even meeting the transgendered woman, and heck, even the resolution of the protagonist to move to Seattle), but I think of the roadside attractions stuff to be appendages in the sense that they are connected to the plot. I agree with you that the realist passages are subservient. I didn’t ask Matthew, but I assumed this is why the characters aren’t named, only initialed. Even the writer doesn’t think the actual details of the story are that important to what was being conveyed in the end, which relies on the amalgam of that which is tangential, that which is the heart, and the dance of all the appendages.
I think Jesus said this when he said something about how the head can’t say to the body you’re no good, or whatever. In general, Jesus said it really good but he didn’t say it at HTML Giant, so I thank you for doing so.
-Magic Acorn
Chris,
This is a really fitting question for A Jello Horse. I think of the childhood scenes to be tangential and disconnected from the story, and the funeral trip to be the heart of the story (including the consolation party before hand, the drive there, the actual funeral stuff, the stuff in the house party before the funeral, and I guess even meeting the transgendered woman, and heck, even the resolution of the protagonist to move to Seattle), but I think of the roadside attractions stuff to be appendages in the sense that they are connected to the plot. I agree with you that the realist passages are subservient. I didn’t ask Matthew, but I assumed this is why the characters aren’t named, only initialed. Even the writer doesn’t think the actual details of the story are that important to what was being conveyed in the end, which relies on the amalgam of that which is tangential, that which is the heart, and the dance of all the appendages.
I think Jesus said this when he said something about how the head can’t say to the body you’re no good, or whatever. In general, Jesus said it really good but he didn’t say it at HTML Giant, so I thank you for doing so.
-Magic Acorn
Oh how it warms me to see the heart getting some play, even as counterbalance. I like the analogy of the appendages and think that you’re right about their growth being diminished without the thrall of heartblood within them.
I can’t wait to take a gander at Mr. Higg’s new work, especially if he employs the ideas outlined here. This review may prompt me to buy The Jello Horse — a book I wouldn’t normally have purchased.
Good review!
Oh how it warms me to see the heart getting some play, even as counterbalance. I like the analogy of the appendages and think that you’re right about their growth being diminished without the thrall of heartblood within them.
I can’t wait to take a gander at Mr. Higg’s new work, especially if he employs the ideas outlined here. This review may prompt me to buy The Jello Horse — a book I wouldn’t normally have purchased.
Good review!
So you watch Lakers game with the sound off?
So you watch Lakers game with the sound off?
that analogy doesn’t work. realist literature is not telling you about something that you are watching happen. for your analogy, it would be more like if a realist literature book was called: “you are looking at the cover of this book.” and then: you are opening this book. you are reading this book. you are turning a page. you are reading this book. you are reading this book. you just started a new paragraph. you read the last sentence quickly.
it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.
that analogy doesn’t work. realist literature is not telling you about something that you are watching happen. for your analogy, it would be more like if a realist literature book was called: “you are looking at the cover of this book.” and then: you are opening this book. you are reading this book. you are turning a page. you are reading this book. you are reading this book. you just started a new paragraph. you read the last sentence quickly.
it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.
i found this review interesting
i found this review interesting
it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.
YES
it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.
YES
Matthew,
I like your redress of my analogy: “it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.” But my conclusion remains the same: why would I be interested in someone’s hypothetical Lakers game when I have access to a real Lakers game? That, I think, is the crux of my argument. Transcripts of situations that could plausibly occur in the ordinary reality in which I live strike me as a waste of time because I already exist in this reality and I don’t see the need for redundancy.
In terms of A Jello Horse, I think the dichotomy of the two sections I’ve identified exemplifies my point. The heart presents a version of life that could plausibly happen; while the appendages present versions of life that are implausible. I’m thinking here about Aristotle’s position on the distinction between the plausible/possible: obviously it could be possible for there to exist a House of 2000 Telephones where every phone works and has a separate line, but it’s not plausible within the realm of reality in which we coexist. On the other hand, it is plausible within the realm of our shared reality that someone could attend a funeral while suffering from genital warts. What I find most interesting in literature (and in this text in particular) are those aspects that present the implausible rather than the plausible, i.e. the former rather than the latter of the previous examples.
With conventional realism – and in your version of my Lakers analogy — the presentation is necessarily a plausible hypothetical. And like I said, I tend to find this redundant and boring. But if, for instance, someone began to tell me about a Lakers game in which Kobe began to fly and Pau grew tree trunks out of his hands and Lamar’s head swelled to the size of a hot air balloon and Derek Fisher mutated into a robot capable of hitting his threes, then we have left the realm of the plausible and become interesting.
[ps – thanks to everybody else who has commented.]
Matthew,
I like your redress of my analogy: “it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.” But my conclusion remains the same: why would I be interested in someone’s hypothetical Lakers game when I have access to a real Lakers game? That, I think, is the crux of my argument. Transcripts of situations that could plausibly occur in the ordinary reality in which I live strike me as a waste of time because I already exist in this reality and I don’t see the need for redundancy.
In terms of A Jello Horse, I think the dichotomy of the two sections I’ve identified exemplifies my point. The heart presents a version of life that could plausibly happen; while the appendages present versions of life that are implausible. I’m thinking here about Aristotle’s position on the distinction between the plausible/possible: obviously it could be possible for there to exist a House of 2000 Telephones where every phone works and has a separate line, but it’s not plausible within the realm of reality in which we coexist. On the other hand, it is plausible within the realm of our shared reality that someone could attend a funeral while suffering from genital warts. What I find most interesting in literature (and in this text in particular) are those aspects that present the implausible rather than the plausible, i.e. the former rather than the latter of the previous examples.
With conventional realism – and in your version of my Lakers analogy — the presentation is necessarily a plausible hypothetical. And like I said, I tend to find this redundant and boring. But if, for instance, someone began to tell me about a Lakers game in which Kobe began to fly and Pau grew tree trunks out of his hands and Lamar’s head swelled to the size of a hot air balloon and Derek Fisher mutated into a robot capable of hitting his threes, then we have left the realm of the plausible and become interesting.
[ps – thanks to everybody else who has commented.]
Matthew,
I like your redress of my analogy: “it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.” But my conclusion remains the same: why would I be interested in someone’s hypothetical Lakers game when I have access to a real Lakers game? That, I think, is the crux of my argument. Transcripts of situations that could plausibly occur in the ordinary reality in which I live strike me as a waste of time because I already exist in this reality and I don’t see the need for redundancy.
In terms of A Jello Horse, I think the dichotomy of the two sections I’ve identified exemplifies my point. The heart presents a version of life that could plausibly happen; while the appendages present versions of life that are implausible. I’m thinking here about Aristotle’s position on the distinction between the plausible/possible: obviously it could be possible for there to exist a House of 2000 Telephones where every phone works and has a separate line, but it’s not plausible within the realm of reality in which we coexist. On the other hand, it is plausible within the realm of our shared reality that someone could attend a funeral while suffering from genital warts. What I find most interesting in literature (and in this text in particular) are those aspects that present the implausible rather than the plausible, i.e. the former rather than the latter of the previous examples.
With conventional realism – and in your version of my Lakers analogy — the presentation is necessarily a plausible hypothetical. And like I said, I tend to find this redundant and boring. But if, for instance, someone began to tell me about a Lakers game in which Kobe began to fly and Pau grew tree trunks out of his hands and Lamar’s head swelled to the size of a hot air balloon and Derek Fisher mutated into a robot capable of hitting his threes, then we have left the realm of the plausible and become interesting.
[ps – thanks to everybody else who has commented.]
Matthew,
I like your redress of my analogy: “it’s more like someone is telling you something that could happen in a lakers game that you aren’t watching.” But my conclusion remains the same: why would I be interested in someone’s hypothetical Lakers game when I have access to a real Lakers game? That, I think, is the crux of my argument. Transcripts of situations that could plausibly occur in the ordinary reality in which I live strike me as a waste of time because I already exist in this reality and I don’t see the need for redundancy.
In terms of A Jello Horse, I think the dichotomy of the two sections I’ve identified exemplifies my point. The heart presents a version of life that could plausibly happen; while the appendages present versions of life that are implausible. I’m thinking here about Aristotle’s position on the distinction between the plausible/possible: obviously it could be possible for there to exist a House of 2000 Telephones where every phone works and has a separate line, but it’s not plausible within the realm of reality in which we coexist. On the other hand, it is plausible within the realm of our shared reality that someone could attend a funeral while suffering from genital warts. What I find most interesting in literature (and in this text in particular) are those aspects that present the implausible rather than the plausible, i.e. the former rather than the latter of the previous examples.
With conventional realism – and in your version of my Lakers analogy — the presentation is necessarily a plausible hypothetical. And like I said, I tend to find this redundant and boring. But if, for instance, someone began to tell me about a Lakers game in which Kobe began to fly and Pau grew tree trunks out of his hands and Lamar’s head swelled to the size of a hot air balloon and Derek Fisher mutated into a robot capable of hitting his threes, then we have left the realm of the plausible and become interesting.
[ps – thanks to everybody else who has commented.]
sorry for the redundancy – haha — i messed up and forgot to close my italics marker thingy in the first post
sorry for the redundancy – haha — i messed up and forgot to close my italics marker thingy in the first post
Thank you for the review, Christopher. I like the way it seems to process your thinking as it continues.
Thank you for the review, Christopher. I like the way it seems to process your thinking as it continues.
this is a good review.
this is a good review.
i understand your point of view. i think i like reading about situations that could plausibly occur in ordinary reality for a lot of reasons that i will probably poorly explain because i dont know how to explain them well.
one is that it feels to me like i could be a lot of slightly different people living slightly different lives and it is interesting to read about and identify with people and situations that are slightly different than ones i have been in. and if i read about one that is exactly the same then that seems interesting to me because it seems implausible to me that someone who is not me could be in an extremely similar situation and act in an extremely similar way, saying extremely similar things. that is probably unfounded. also, what might be is that i am just obsessed with things that could be and aren’t. like how i often think about all of the people that i will never know exist but would probably like and connect with if i did know they existed.
i think i am not going to talk about any other reasons in this comment now.
i understand your point of view. i think i like reading about situations that could plausibly occur in ordinary reality for a lot of reasons that i will probably poorly explain because i dont know how to explain them well.
one is that it feels to me like i could be a lot of slightly different people living slightly different lives and it is interesting to read about and identify with people and situations that are slightly different than ones i have been in. and if i read about one that is exactly the same then that seems interesting to me because it seems implausible to me that someone who is not me could be in an extremely similar situation and act in an extremely similar way, saying extremely similar things. that is probably unfounded. also, what might be is that i am just obsessed with things that could be and aren’t. like how i often think about all of the people that i will never know exist but would probably like and connect with if i did know they existed.
i think i am not going to talk about any other reasons in this comment now.
Ordinary reality is pretty implausible too. Sometimes all it takes it a slight difference of the viewing angle to cast these cardboard situations into the blingy and pimped forms of which you speak, all without leaving the realm of the believable.
Even though she didn’t have limbs turning in tree trunks and whatnot, Flannery O’Connor took relatively stale situations and injected them with a verve and fervor that made nearly everything that occurred some odd facet of the unknown yet known.
Ordinary reality is pretty implausible too. Sometimes all it takes it a slight difference of the viewing angle to cast these cardboard situations into the blingy and pimped forms of which you speak, all without leaving the realm of the believable.
Even though she didn’t have limbs turning in tree trunks and whatnot, Flannery O’Connor took relatively stale situations and injected them with a verve and fervor that made nearly everything that occurred some odd facet of the unknown yet known.
You’re welcome, Matthew!
You’re welcome, Matthew!
[…] STORIES (click here to buy) illuminates that concept. I realize this is in exact opposition to Christopher Higg’s comment in his review of the Jello Horse by Matthew Simmons, where he wrote, “…but then again, so few real people are remarkably interesting.” Now, we […]
I like how Christopher reviews Matthew’s review of Christopher’s review and also how Christopher reviews the comment reviews of his review of Matthew Simmons’s ‘A Jello Horse’ (by Christopher Higgs). A very fine set of reviews!
I like how Christopher reviews Matthew’s review of Christopher’s review and also how Christopher reviews the comment reviews of his review of Matthew Simmons’s ‘A Jello Horse’ (by Christopher Higgs). A very fine set of reviews!
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