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A review by wmbogart
The End of the Road by John Barth
“Where the hell else but in America could you have a cheerful nihilism?”
As with A Floating Opera, the characters in The End of the Road espouse a hollow “rationality” to the point of absurdity. But the pedantry takes a darker turn here; the indifference that more or less discourages suicide in Barth's debut novel is shown here to be a paralyzing, crippling force that seems to justify inaction and a gross disregard for others.
There’s a lot here about the performance of “selves” and the “self” at a distance that I enjoy. Obviously most (if not all) of the dialogue around these subjects shouldn’t be taken at face value. But that (post-)modern ambivalence and lack of conviction is always interesting to me.
Barth’s typical comedy of social processes is still here. Our narrator will frequently envision a host of counter-arguments or paths that a conversation can go down before answering “no reason” or shrugging. That’s a great bit! A lot of anti-climactic, ironic reveals that I laughed out loud at. Also laughed at the frequent abstraction of people to symbols/principles/ideals.
The misogyny and the casual violence towards women throughout the novel is more difficult. I understand the narration mocks the men as well, but there is a larger misogyny to the writing that goes beyond the intentionally loathsome perspective of the narrator. Gotta acknowledge that, I think. For that reason, and for the bleaker, anti-social nihilism throughout the novel, I preferred A Floating Opera.