From: Arnon Grunberg
To: Adam Mansbach
Re: Grotesqueries

Adam,

Let me reassure you: I can be approached without heavy drinking. Actually I can be approached without drinking at all.

The nice thing about the text on a jacket-flap is that the text wasn't written by the author of the book. At least in most cases. In the Netherlands I have written the text on the jacket-flap a few times myself, mostly to avoid misunderstandings about my own novel. So I don't think The Jewish Messiah is a grotesque farce. But had my novel been called a highly realistic drama I would have had problems subscribing to that theory as well. In general I would say it's hard and probably unpleasant for a writer to categorize his own work or to agree with other people's categorizations.

The word 'grotesque' implies that part of reality has been distorted. In the context of a novel, or, to be more precise, in the context of the jacket, or a review, it's probably meant to comfort the reader, to reassure him that it might look grim in the novel but don't worry, it's a distortion. I would say that most of reality is worse than any novel, when it comes to degradations of the flesh for example, but probably for pragmatic reasons I didn't have many problems with reassuring the reader on the jacket. After having read your email I realized that I should have been more careful.

The thin line between ecstasy and suffering is widespread, at least since Christianity. But I guess this does exist in other cultures as well. And even in JudaiWhere are You Putting That Arrow?: St. Teresa's ecstasy and sufferingsm you can find a tendency to blur this line. It's telling that in the context of a novel blurring this line leads to the descriptions "grotesque" and "farce" whereas the same thing in a religious context might lead to a thing called epiphany.

I wonder why you prefer satire to farce. A satire seems to me heavily dependent on an audience that is very much aware of specific reality, and laugh about your attempts to poke fun at certain people or institutions.

A novelist strives to reveal certain truths with all means possible. In an attempt to disguise the unpleasant truth he or she is revealing, society might react by calling it a farce, a satire, slapstick (nothing wrong with good slapstick by the way), or a grotesque farce.

Or do you think this is too much honor for the novelist? Or is it little bit heavy-handed? That's the risk you face while speaking about farces and satire.

I haven't read any of your books yet, but why do you insist in calling your last novel a satire?

Throwing a drink in my face might be a good idea, but we can continue without. What do you prefer?

Best,
Arnon

Adam Mansbach's new novel The End of the Jews tells the story of two brash young men: Tristan, a budding novelist in Depression-era New York, and his grandson Tris, a graffiti artist in love with a Czech photographer. Arnon Grunberg's new novel The Jewish Messiah is about another pair of kids, the Swiss grandson of Nazis and a rabbi's boy, whose semi-sexual friendship leads to a shared mission to save the Jewish people.

On the face of it, Mansbach and Grunberg don't look like they have much in common: Mansbach is an American whose previous novel was about hip-hop culture, while Grunberg is a Dutch literary provocateur. But both are obsessed with family obligation, youth, and the future of Judaism. Over the course of a few weeks this winter, they exchanged emails, and we'll be reprinting the discussion all week.

From: Adam Mansbach
To: Arnon Grunberg
Re: Buy You A Drink?

Arnon,

Striking up a conversation with a writer you’ve never met is a little like approaching a stranger in a bar, so I’ve been drinking heavily and wondering what the best vector of approach might be. There’s a lot in your novel that has stayed with me, but the words ‘grotesque farce’ keep asserting themselves in my mind. They don’t appear in The Jewish Messiah, but on it -- as a jacket-flap description of the book. I wonder about both these words: the literary trajectories behind them, their implications, and ultimately, whether you’d consider either one applicable.

If The Jewish Messiah is grotesque, is it because people suffer degradations of the flesh, carry their amputated testicles around in jars, pleasure themselves with kitchen knives, victimize each other in ways that blur the line between violence and salvation, suffering and ecstasy? Is it the detail with which some of these scenes are rendered that makes them grotesque? Their relentless frequency? Or is it the authorial Exhibit A - A Grotesque Farce: Or rather, a grotesque satire?intention behind them -- the act of creating a world in which lives always seems to turn on such acts, a world in which individual bodies are the symbolic battlegrounds on which all wars are fought?

‘Grotesque’ and ‘farce’ are often pejorative terms, and both, I think, share the implication that things have been taken too far, that precision and wit have given way to broad strokes and fart jokes. A failed satire often gets labeled a farce, for instance -- the worst review I got of my last novel, which was a satire, called it a farce. (I ended up killing that reviewer in a fairly grotesque manner, but that’s another story). The notion of satire versus farce interests me because we’re living in a world so absurd in its own right that the job of the satirist has become difficult -- there’s very little space left on the margins to veer toward, so perhaps farce becomes inevitable. Satire also requires a certain kind of interpretive impulse on the audience’s part, and maybe it’s not there a lot of the time in this country.

Let me know what you think about any of this. Or feel free to just throw a drink in my face.

Best,
Adam