Stephen Bett
Vassily Aksyonov, Say Cheese! (epigraph & opening line; trans, Antonina W. Bouis)
After the movies, photography of all the arts is the most important for us! —V. Lenin or J. Stalin
When and by which of the two possible authors this quotation was spoken is not known with accuracy.
Ah Lenin’o, ah Sta’ lēēn
Axe ion is off (& running a’gen then)
Well it’s hardly the new sentence is it …
Take my photo, Koba
tyranny of the signified
It’s like trying to see
the air itself
Your agitprop chop
nixed
— say cheese1
Stephen Bett
Martin Amis, Lionel Asbo: State of England
In his outward appearance Lionel was brutally generic—the slablike body, the full lump of the face, the tight-shaved crown with its tawny stubble.
A novel a’miss
sweet FU UK
Thuggish louts
(en route, NYC)
ASBO signified yob
bruter than signifier boy
Tyranny becomes fetish
one lump or two?
Say please2
Stephen Bett
Ivo Andrić, Bosnian Chronicle (opening line; trans, Joseph Hitrec)
At the beginning of the year 1807 strange things began to happen at Travnik, things that had never happened before.
Strange b’place, Kin v. Art
one brow low one high
Stranger than wingnut
num(b)·er·ology
One ate one nought fewer
non bond·ouble “0” sevens
1807’s a master “Sixteen”
Positive integer, karmic
numb’er
“Vibrational properties,” they say
One lump v. two
Flight re·route Sarajevo Blue3
Stephen Bett
title
The Sense of an Ending is the story of one man coming to terms with the mutable past. Laced with Barnes’s trademark precision, dexterity and insight, it is the work of one of the world’s most distinguished writers.
The mutable world of the generative sentence is a commodified canvas for distinguished, socially disjunctivized wordsmiths who lace their prioritized parataxis with overwhelmed signifiers, who torque their dexterously precise trademark tyranny of the signified, creating polysemic masterpieces that refuse transparency, that reify the materiality of words as words, that guard (ironically) against ideological contamination, and that fetishize pussyshit consumerist cocktail-hour diarists for whom the lyric “voice poem” has simply run its course, for whom insightful connections are desyntaxed and denied, and for whom, when push comes to shove, ISBNs’ unique numeric identifiers signify, conspiratorially numerology-speaking, a paradoxical demolition of the active (dictatorial) writer and the passive (victimized) reader.4