Eric BassoReviews

Eric Basso is a poet who brings his skills of vision and word into the realms of visual art and literature in his powerful book: "Decompositions: Essays on Art and Literature 1973-1989." For Basso great works of art aren't locked up in a dusty display case in an attic of a museum. Instead the works of art Basso presents are spread out upon an operating table ready for a transfusion of new blood or at times ready for a critical vivisection. This is powerful stuff, not for the faint of heart, but for those who want to dig deep into the marrow of art.

While clever and insightful, I didn't find this book to be my cup-o-tea. I generally like deep looks into literature and art. However, I found this book to be dry and fairly opaque.

Basso's essays are excellent and insightful. His prose is sharp and clear, and he renders his subjects in a manner that is at once accessible and highly thorough. One comes away from a reading feeling invigorated and inspired. Highly recommended.

Like a Surrealist magician pulling tragically beautiful dead rabbits out of a hat one after another, Eric Basso presents us with twelve essays on works from the fantastic worlds of art and literature in the late 18th through the early 20th century. The thread - or more appropriately, sinew - that unites these pieces is the subject of death. And horror, gore and filth, sadism, wild invention and lecherous ecstasy. And back, as always, to death.

Andre Breton said in Nadja, “The world of language is a world of death.” And seemingly for Basso, that language could also be a brushstroke, a movement, a thought or a glance. This book is not for everyone. Not everyone will want to know how Théodore Géricault acquired the severed body parts he painted in obvious preparation for his masterpiece The Raft of Medusa. But for those of us who do, this collection is a fascinating dissection of the brain, bowels, psyche and works of the most wild and creative artists of the time... James Joyce, Franz Kafka, Paul Valéry, Francisco Goya, Victor Hugo, of the more well known.

As Eugene Delacroix said of Jean-Louis Andre Theodore Gericault’s work: “...no subject is so forbidding it cannot be made beautiful...” And presented in Basso’s slyly knowing and playful tone, one cannot help but feel they are participating in something akin to peeking under Frida Kahlo’s skirts.

Let’s start with that fact that, just maybe, I’m not the type for whom this book is intended. There is much deep evaluation of obscure works – art, fiction, poetry, plays – whose obscurity makes it hard to find touchpoints. But, past that warning, there is interesting reading in here. For example, the first two pieces describe backgrounds and information on Jean-Marie-Mathia-Philippe-Auguste Villiers de L’Isle-Adam (yes, that is the name) and Paul Valery who are(at least, to me) obscure 19th century French authors. The accompanying descriptions of their lives and some of their works make me want to explore some of their writing – strange approaches with strange themes that appear to promise different perspectives. But then, there are other critical essays in here – ones that make me wonder what I am supposed to learn and/or discover. The blurb in the back particularly points out “Annihilation” calling it a “pivotal essay”. All I saw in this was a description and analysis of various works (some obscure, but also works from Rembrandt, Poe, and finally Kafka) that were individually of some interest but, together, drawing no conclusion. So it is with the entire collection. Some essays pique interest; others make you wonder what the author is trying to do. A mixed bag with limited appeal and, as I mentioned at the start, maybe I’m just not the right audience. Be careful, and make sure you are the right audience before joining in. (One other small thing. I have no idea what font was used for this book. I looked through it to see if it was listed. Now, generally, I don’t care about fonts and, generally there was nothing outstanding about this font. However, it had one irritating thing – the letters “c” and “t”, when written together [for example, the word “act”] were literally joined together. I have no idea where this came from, but this affectation was incredibly irritating and distracting. Not something any author or reader wants to battle with.)

I normally shy away from essays and criticisms where literature is concerned, mainly because they tend to be dry and long-winded at best, and unnecessarily critical at worst, spoiling what you loved about something, or turning you off of something new.

This book could not be more different. Eric Basso seems to the reader like a child with a new toy, his excitement over what he's playing with is genuine. It's clear the author loves his subject matter, and his enthusiasm is contagious.

Instead of dissecting every piece of a novel, character, or author, Eric Basso focuses his energy on ideas and esthetics. Instead of questioning the how or why, the author directs your attention to the what: what is so interesting or beautiful about a certain work.

This books concerns itself mainly with the Decadents, Symbolists, and Romantics. Many people and their works are discussed in this book, such as Valery, Nerval, Goya, and Daumal, among others. However, the highlight for me was the discussion of Alfred Jarry's alter ego, Pere Ubu.

All in all, Decompositions is a fantastic collection.