What if there is no one at the wheel.
What do you mean.
I mean we wonder so much about intent in this novel, about Kohler’s intentions versus Gass’s intentions and whose are primary and how we are meant to conflate or separate the two, but what if neither writer nor narrator is driving this book. What if the whole thing, the bloated bundle of pages, the complete collection of words, the entire enchilada, what if it is all simply symptom, cause’s effect, history’s inevitable utter vomit.
What must of necessity come back out when you stuff the world full to bursting with violence and optimism.
Of course then the question is: what next.