Outside the Frame: “The Flight of Icarus” How far is a - TopicsExpress

Outside the Frame: “The Flight of Icarus” How far is a character dependent on the authors understanding of the frames of fiction? For many, this is an irrelevant question. Characters are believed to have life only within the terms determined by the writer. After all, how and under what circumstances a character will operate in a narrative is the prerogative of the author. Yet, time and again, the question of authorial control has occupied the space of criticism in fiction. Raymond Queneau, one of twentieth century Frances most celebrated literary exponents confronted the issue directly in “The Flight of Icarus.” First published in French in 1968, this is a novel that challenges many of the set assumptions and conventions of fiction. Drawing on, but not referring to the mythological figure of Icarus, Queneau places his hero at the end of the nineteenth century, just when the many-sided cultural and technological dimensions of modernity were beginning to make their impact on everyday life. In Classical myth, Icarus, along with his father Dedalus aspired to fly out beyond the limits of human comprehension, but as he flew close to the sun, Icarus wax wings melted and he fell to his doom. There is no indication of this mythical background in the narrative, but when the final words strike home, the reader comes to realize how ingenuous and crafty Queneau has been in his organization of the story. When the novel opens, there is a crisis at hand. Hubert Lubert, a novelist in nineteenth century France, has lost his chief character. Baffled, and completely at a loss, Lubert approaches the detective Morcol and entrusts him the task of bringing back the missing figure whom he had named Icarus. This is how he introduces his problem to the detective: “Since I write novels, I deal with characters. And now one of them has vanished. Literally. A novel I had just begun, about ten pages, fifteen at the most, and in which I had placed the highest hopes, and now the principal character, whom I had barely begun to outline, disappears. As I obviously cannot continue without him, I have come to ask you to find him for me.” Morcols quest for Icarus and the many adventures that occupy the narrative space of the novel form just one dimension of the text. Queneaus ingenuity extends beyond the cat-and-mouse format; it encompasses a wide range of questions surrounding the genre of the novel itself. One of the worlds foremost experimental novelists, Queneau has consistently challenged the limits of the genre in a variety of ways. Here, he looks at the nature of reality that an author considers worthy of representation, and asks whether there can ever be a fixed or unalterable condition for the novelist to rely on. “The Flight of Icarus” is a readers delight. Unpredictable, and with surprises at every turn, the fascinating plot is amply complemented by Queneaus inventive use of language. In the “Translators Note” Barbara Wright draws attention to this feature of Queneaus writing: “With Queneau, every word is there for a purpose—no other word could be substituted for it. Every phrase, every chapter he writes is there for a purpose and plays its precise, complicated part in the whole.” However, “The Flight of Icarus” is characterized by much more than the inventive use of language. It is in the integration of the plot, narrative surprise and linguistic play that the effect comes through. This enterprising process appears to make light of a subject that has occupied writers of fiction for ages: how does one make sense of the frames of fiction in terms of the experience of everyday reality? There are multiple views on this issue, some pressing for a direct correspondence between reality and representation, and others proposing more unconventional possibilities. In this novel, Queneau offers the text as the site for the articulation of contesting positions on the subject and the nature of fiction. Not only do we find Icarus deserting his creator, there is a host of others that move out of the creative confines of their authors envisaged worlds, and in this circus, issues of art, freedom and cultural politics come to the fore. Written for the most part in the form of a script, this conversational mode enables Queneau to accommodate the high theatrical element within the pages of the novel. At one level, the story is organized as a series of conversations between various characters, each one of them furthering or following specifically set priorities. Once out of the pages of his authors book, Icarus finds himself in a drinking den and befriends a woman of doubtful credentials. This association introduces him to a whole new world, and from society butterfly to aspiring flight engineer, Icarus comes to fulfil his destiny in the end. After he leaves the frame of the novel, we see an interplay of the real and the imagined, and the constant pursuit of authority results in a coming together of multiple planes. Queneau achieves this merger by blurring the rigid distinctions that seemingly determine the limits of fiction and its territory. Many of the cultural preoccupations of the nineteenth century find space in this novel. From food, custom and etiquette to fashion and communication, there is a serious engagement with themes we have come to identify with the experience of modern living. The detective Morcol manages to capture Icarus once, but the author is unable to hold on to his creation the second time too. The plot is further complicated when three fellow novelists kidnap Icarus in order to avenge Luberts triumph over them in a duel. By now, seasoned and familiar with the ways of the world, Icarus gives them the slip easily. The detective loses his track midway and quits his profession altogether. Without a trained pursuer, the fugitive hero finds refuge and employment in a motor garage, a new development of the late nineteenth century. By the time the woman his novelist planned to get him married to also leaves the pages in search of Icarus, the story seems to free itself of the writers grip. Yet, that is not quite the case. Combining the inventive possibilities of detective fiction with an incisive satirical emphasis that interrogates some of the dominant social practices of the time, Queneau holds the reader in thrall. One of twentieth centurys most eye-catching experiments in fiction, Raymond Queneau’s “The Flight of Icarus” expands the genre of the novel beyond its envisaged limits. And it is indeed a testament to his consummate control over his medium and his superb craftsmanship that conclusively ties up the narrative knot which is both arresting and amazing in its execution.