Dispositions
By McKenzie Wark
Salt Publishing
Reviewed by Ashley Crawford
McKenzie Wark's most recent book, Dispositions, is
described on the jacket as his first novel, which, as
soon as you start it, begs the question: What exactly
is a novel in this day and age?
This is not, altogether, a work of fiction. But nor is
it a simple fact-based diary. Dispositions skitters
between the real and the poetic; a love letter to a
wife in a different city, a melancholy musing on the
idea of 'home' and an intense travelogue that comes to
an abrupt end, all too aptly, on September 11.
At times Dispositions recalls Godfrey Reggio's 1983
film Koyaanisqatsi, zig zagging around longitude and
latitude all madly and obsessively recorded by a
global position system. At other times it is a
Whitmanesqe play on nature and nurture, then shifting
abruptly to the doof doof rhythm of DJ Spooky sampling
samples.
If you like words, wordage and word play you will
either love this strange tome or despise it as being
too clever for its own good. To say that it is
indulgent is inevitable, but not necessarily in the
negative sense that word most often implies. Wark's
tone is considered poetic; when it borders on the
overly romantic it comes straight back with an
incisive critique of the world around us.
This is Wark's fourth book. His previous forays, such
as Virtual Geography, have been substantially academic
and, given that he reaches media studies and
non-fiction writing at the State University of New
York, one might have expected the same. Certainly
there are quotations from the master theoreticians;
Baudrillard, Virillio and Deleuze all get a look in,
but don't expect a footnote. Words from others are
italicised and then listed via the time of writing and
date at the rear of the book. Wark has gone out of his
way to eschew expectations and in the process has
proven himself to be a perceptive romantic.
Subjects veer from sector to sector, from music to
literature to art. Wark on DJ Spooky:
"DJ Spooky has the virus. Music turns his cells over
to its combustible productions. Codework of pure music
cells, factories of sound. A fire engine turns a
corner and adds its wave to the wave."
Being essentially diaristic, much of Dispositions is
set in New York City. Wark on the Chrysler Building
(although he is not so crass as to name the building):
"The joy of the city, cruel and throughtless funhouse.
The imperfect grid of it, the numbered containers.
Here things happen, pressed into space 'til it
crinkles. And from within these folds comes the form.
The silver tapered tower, with its arc of triangular
windows at the apex, blooming from the nondescript
pleats. A shiny hood ornament for the pulsating
vehicle. Pleasing proof of the possible."
But while a marvellous and riveting cultural and
geographical travelogue, at heart Dispositions relays
the meandering thoughts of a person about to turn 40,
transposed into an alien city, unemployed, his wife in
another city and his friends in another country. There
are ruminations on society, politics (a columnist for
the Australian for nine years, Wark has described
himself as "a lapsed Marxist in the pay of Rupert
Murdoch") and even the beleaguered life of squirrels
in Central Park. At heart, Dispositions is a
multi-textured mid-life crisis described with both
heart and intellect. Essentially lost, the author
clutches a Global Positioning System, opening each
section with a geographical location: "12.10 PM EST
North 40.73534º Elevation 224'" as though this
technological grounding will get him through the day.
The term postmodern in North America, especially when
it refers to literature, lacks the metallic aftertaste
it has taken on in Australia. Such authors as Don
DeLillo and David Foster Wallace are often described
as post modern in their play with form. In this
regard, McKenzie Wark could well be described as
Australia's first literary postmodernist.
Images from this book will haunt long after reading.