OPTIC NERVEBy María GainzaTranslated by Thomas Bunstead193 pp. Catapult. .
It’s no big surprise that in the thriving genre of autofiction, in which the “auto” means based on the writer’s own life, we’re most often shown the world through the perspective of a fiction writer. The narrator of Rachel Cusk’s Outline novels is, like Cusk, a novelist. The same is true in Jenny Offill’s “Dept. of Speculation.” Ben Lerner’s novels are told by men who, like Lerner, are poets and novelists.
A slight but crucial difference in María Gainza’s appealing and digressive “Optic Nerve” is that the narrator, named María, is, like Gainza, an Argentine art critic. This area of expertise means that she dilates on something other than herself. María’s store of information about painters and their lives can make reading the book feel, delightfully, like auditing a course.
In many notable works of autofiction, we don’t get to know the narrators very well. (This is ironic or predictable, depending on your views about the nature of self-knowledge.) We learn about them sideways, at best — in many respects, being locked inside some combination of these characters and their creators makes them far less comprehensible than characters in more traditional fiction. We’re closer to these narrators, but not more familiar with them. (This elides the large question of how reliable the mappings of autofiction are anyway: In a recent interview with Literary Hub, Gainza said her own life story provides “just a drop of color” to the novel.)
We learn about the narrator of “Optic Nerve” in brief mentions of vital details: She’s married, she got “rusty on my history of art” while pregnant, she has received a cancer diagnosis. A brother living in California has suddenly died. We know she is anxious and embraces ambivalence. (“To ever feel that you understand anything only means that your mind has turned rigid.”)
Early in the book, the narrator hints at her method. She recounts the accidental death of a friend, who was shot by a hunter, and admits that she’s unsure of why she’s bringing it up. “I suppose it’s always probably the way: You write one thing in order to talk about something else.”
The something else isn’t always crystal clear in the book, which nonetheless consistently charms with its tight swirl of art history, personal reminiscence and aesthetic theories. In a series of chapters that read like discrete essays, the narrator ruminates on the desire (and the stymied desire) to travel; the expectations established within families; the lures of melancholy and nostalgia. She juxtaposes her fear of flying with Henri Rousseau’s paintings of hot-air balloons, Zeppelins and airplanes. She braids her thoughts about Mark Rothko into an account of her nervous visit to the doctor.
Bemoaning a museum tour guide whom she overhears boring a group of schoolchildren, she writes: “Carelessly administered, the history of art can be lethal as strychnine.”
This is not a problem in Gainza’s treatment of the subject. Try not to go scrambling for a full biography of Toulouse-Lautrec after reading her brief but potent treatment of his life. (On the artist’s father: “He would ride into the village in summer with his falcon on his shoulder, feeding it strips of raw meat and dispensing little sips of holy water from a bottle — so as not to deprive the bird of the benefits of a spiritual life.”)
Parts of “Optic Nerve” read as straight-up art criticism, strongly voiced. El Greco’s “unwavering dogmatism exasperates us, but so does his sensuality. We have difficulty accepting their coexistence in a single image; the mutual exclusivity of flesh and spirit has been drummed into us by now.” “Perhaps there is something spiritual in the experience of looking at a Rothko, but it’s the kind of spiritual that resists description: like seeing a glacier, or crossing a desert.” This is the first of Gainza’s books to be translated into English, and these moments make one hope that her criticism will be next to arrive.B:
平码3中2中多少“【咳】【咳】【咳】……” 【在】【一】【间】【空】【旷】【黑】【暗】【而】【又】【一】【片】【寂】【静】【的】【房】【间】【中】，【突】【然】【传】【出】【来】【了】【一】【阵】【急】【促】【而】【又】【剧】【烈】【的】【咳】【嗽】，【在】【这】【个】【房】【间】【中】【不】【断】【的】【回】【荡】【了】【起】【来】。 【缓】【缓】【的】【集】【中】【视】【线】，【就】【会】【发】【现】【原】【来】【在】【这】【个】【房】【间】【的】【最】【里】【面】，【有】【着】【一】【个】【造】【型】【疑】【似】【十】【字】【架】【的】【装】【置】，【而】【在】【装】【置】【之】【上】，【一】【个】【光】【着】【上】【身】、【瘦】【骨】【嶙】【峋】，【连】【眼】【窝】【都】【深】【深】【陷】【进】【去】【的】【男】【子】，【正】【艰】【难】【的】
“【或】【许】【见】【识】【一】【下】【他】【更】【多】【的】【能】【力】，【应】【该】【能】【想】【起】【来】【是】【在】【哪】【里】【见】【过】【的】。”【弗】【利】【沙】【分】【身】【眼】【中】【闪】【过】【一】【丝】【精】【芒】，【蹲】【下】【身】【体】，【手】【掌】【放】【在】【地】【上】。 “【主】【人】……”【仓】【助】【疑】【惑】【一】【声】，【表】【情】【很】【快】【变】【成】【惊】【讶】【的】【神】【色】。 【地】【上】【泛】【起】【蓝】【色】【的】【光】，【其】【中】【雷】【电】【闪】【烁】，【地】【上】【有】【个】【奇】【特】【的】【又】【没】【见】【过】【的】【图】【案】。 【随】【着】【弗】【利】【沙】【分】【身】【一】【声】【低】【喝】，【图】【案】【的】【中】【央】，【一】【道】
【陆】【识】【安】【半】【响】【才】【回】【答】【她】，“【我】【还】【想】【大】【学】【毕】【业】。” “【我】【大】【学】【毕】【业】，【十】【八】【岁】，【刚】【好】。” 【咦】，【好】【像】【也】【是】【哦】。 【不】【成】，【不】【是】【大】【学】【毕】【业】【的】【原】【因】，【而】【是】【年】【纪】【太】【小】。 “【还】【是】【再】【晚】【一】【点】【吧】，【二】【十】【二】【岁】【左】【右】。” “【我】【二】【十】【二】【岁】？【七】【年】，【你】【能】【忍】？”【说】【着】，【时】【宁】【的】【视】【线】【往】【陆】【识】【安】【腰】【部】【以】【下】【的】【三】【角】【区】【域】【看】【去】，【陆】【识】【安】【还】【想】【躲】【开】，
【就】【在】【老】【桑】【什】【么】【也】【看】【不】【到】【的】【时】【候】，【一】【排】**【从】【远】【处】【呼】【啸】【着】【劈】【了】【过】【来】。 【老】【桑】【能】【够】【听】【到】【远】【处】【飞】【来】【的】【响】【声】，【却】【并】【不】【能】【确】【定】【具】【体】【的】【方】【位】。【刚】【想】【向】【后】【退】【出】【几】【步】，【就】【感】【到】【一】【个】【人】【影】【飞】【到】【了】【他】【的】【面】【前】：“【唐】【师】【父】，【快】【走】！” 【一】【个】【海】【盗】【挡】【在】【了】【他】【的】【前】【面】，【后】【背】【被】【飞】【来】【的】**【排】【排】【钉】【住】，**【的】【血】【花】【迸】【溅】【在】【红】【雾】【中】，【竟】【然】【将】【红】【雾】【撕】【出】【了】平码3中2中多少【大】【罗】【天】【之】【中】【的】【秦】【煞】【王】【面】【色】【剧】【变】，【他】【万】【万】【没】【想】【到】【就】【算】【是】【自】【己】【将】【太】【昊】【监】【天】【镜】【给】【了】【玄】【珏】【师】【妹】，【师】【妹】【依】【然】【还】【是】【死】【了】，【或】【者】【她】【本】【来】【不】【用】【死】【的】，【正】【是】【因】【为】【自】【己】【给】【了】【她】【太】【昊】【监】【天】【镜】【才】【被】【天】【妖】【盯】【上】。 【震】【惊】、【懊】【悔】、【迷】【茫】，【此】【时】【秦】【煞】【王】【心】【中】【百】【味】【陈】【杂】，【之】【前】【他】【看】【到】【那】【一】【幕】【天】【机】【之】【后】，【就】【一】【直】【在】【思】【考】【一】【个】【万】【全】【的】【法】【子】，【后】【来】【他】【自】【认】【为】【想】【到】【了】
“【所】【以】，【要】【比】【试】【一】【下】【么】？”【陈】【锋】【对】【于】【对】【方】【的】【挑】【衅】【完】【全】【没】【有】【搭】【理】，【眼】【睛】【不】【时】【地】【在】【他】【们】【身】【上】【带】【着】【的】【武】【器】【装】【备】【上】【打】【转】。【最】【让】【他】【移】【不】【开】【眼】【睛】【的】【是】【走】【在】【最】【后】【面】【的】【支】【援】【者】【背】【上】【的】【那】【个】【硕】【大】【的】【包】【裹】。 “【里】【面】【一】【定】【有】【不】【少】【好】【东】【西】，【得】【想】【办】【法】【拿】【到】【手】。”【陈】【锋】【心】【里】【这】【样】【考】【虑】【着】。 【不】【知】【道】【陈】【锋】【心】【里】【所】【想】【的】【众】【人】【听】【到】【他】【这】【么】【说】，【纷】【纷】【露】【出】
【徐】【朗】【有】【些】【懵】，【事】【情】【变】【得】【很】【突】【然】，【但】【是】【最】【让】【他】【关】【心】【的】【是】【殷】【狂】【和】【玉】【雪】【心】【为】【什】【么】【会】【出】【现】【在】【这】【里】。 “【殷】【狂】，【这】【是】【怎】【么】【回】【事】？” 【殷】【狂】【抹】【了】【一】【把】【汗】，【他】【把】【手】【一】【松】，【聚】【在】【他】【手】【里】【的】【那】【个】【巨】【大】【的】【水】【球】【顿】【时】【化】【作】【瀑】【布】【散】【落】【在】【地】【上】，【里】【面】【四】【个】【惊】【慌】【失】【措】【的】【女】【孩】【紧】【紧】【地】【抱】【在】【一】【起】，【惊】【恐】【的】【看】【着】【外】【面】。 “【无】【恨】【无】【悔】！” 【徐】【朗】【一】【愣】，
【独】【孤】【青】【鸾】【这】【小】【号】【在】【粉】【圈】【相】【当】【出】【名】，【虽】【然】【有】【一】【段】【时】【间】【不】【玩】【了】，【也】【不】【黑】【盛】【景】【了】，【粉】【丝】【们】【纷】【纷】【在】【下】【面】【问】【她】【为】【什】【么】【这】【段】【时】【间】【去】【哪】【儿】【了】，【为】【什】【么】【都】【不】【发】【动】【态】，【你】【都】【不】【是】【盛】【景】【黑】【了】【吗】？ 【盛】【景】【跪】【下】【叫】【爸】【爸】：【结】【婚】【去】【了】，【现】【在】【回】【归】。 “【哈】【哈】【哈】【哈】，【刚】【结】【婚】【就】【要】【弄】【死】【老】【公】【吗】？【这】【么】【彪】【悍】【吗】？” 、“【爸】【爸】【一】【直】【都】【很】【彪】【悍】。” “
“【夜】【子】【陌】——【你】【还】【好】【吗】？【夜】【子】【陌】——” 【墨】【七】【璃】【知】【道】【夜】【子】【陌】【听】【不】【见】【自】【己】【在】【喊】【他】，【可】【是】【墨】【七】【璃】【还】【是】【很】【执】【着】，【不】【断】【的】【喊】【着】【夜】【子】【陌】【的】【名】【字】。 【墨】【七】【璃】【的】【目】【光】【看】【着】【夜】【子】【陌】，【整】【个】【人】【都】【显】【得】【特】【别】【的】【兴】【奋】，【墨】【七】【璃】【不】【断】【拍】【打】【着】【结】【界】，【看】【着】【夜】【子】【陌】【也】【看】【着】【自】【己】【的】【时】【候】，【墨】【七】【璃】【整】【个】【人】【更】【加】【的】【兴】【奋】。 【夜】【子】【陌】【的】【目】【光】【看】【着】【墨】【七】【璃】，【看】