Table Of ContentTHE REALIST FANTASY
THE REALIST FANTASY 
FICTION AND REALITY 
SINCE  CLARISSA 
PAUL COATES
©  Paul Coates 1983 
Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 1983 978-0-333-34708-9 
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be 
reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, 
without permission 
First published 1983 by 
THE MACMILLAN PRESS LTD 
London and Basings toke 
Companies and representatives 
throughout the world 
ISBN 978-1-349-17321-1 ISBN 978-1-349-17319-8 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-1-349-17319-8
Typeset in Great Britain by 
Vantage Photosetting Co Ltd 
Eastleigh and London
For my wife Anna
Wir haben das Gestalten erfunden: 
darum fehlt allem, was unsere 
Hande miide und verzweifelt fahrenlassen, 
immer die letzte Vollendung. 
(Lukacs, Die Theorie des Romans)
Contents 
Acknowledgements  IX 
Introduction  1 
1.  Notes on the Novel  17 
2.  Clarissa, Dialectic and U nreadability  23 
3.  The Nineteenth Century  50 
Four Germans: Hoffman, Kleist, Goethe and Buchner  50 
The Illustrated Novel: Thoughts on the Novels of Dickens  64 
Reading Signs: Hawthorne and the Characters of Allegory  75 
4.  The Text Against Itself  88 
The Dialectics of Enlightenment: Elective Affinities and Women 
in Love  88 
Utopias: Butler and Morris  96 
Repetition: Kierkegaard and Proust  100 
A Note on Metonymy in Proust  112 
Doubles: Conrad, lrzykowski, Poe, Hawthorne  114 
J6zef Konrad  122 
The  Late Henry James:  Substitution,  Projection and the 
G~~~  1~ 
5. Fictions of Identity: Modernism in Germany  141 
Thomas Mann: The Myth of Doktor Faustus  141 
Some Aspects of The Man without Qualities  148 
Franz Kafka: The Impossibility of Writing  158 
6.  Post-Modernism  180 
The Fading of Modernism  180 
The Art of Lying: Three Post-War English Novels  183 
The  Survival  of  Modernism:  Some  Post-War  American 
Novels  190 
(a)InvisibleMan  190 
(b) The Crying of Lot 49: Mirrors, Paranoia and the Senseless-
ness of an Ending  1 93 
(c) Gravity's Rainbow: Nullpunkt, Brennschluss  208 
(d) The Public and the Private Burning: Coover and Doctorow  217 
Vll
viii  Contents 
Notes  223 
Selected Critical Bibliography  235 
Index ofN  ames  237 
Index of Themes  241
Acknowledgements 
Some of the material in this book has already been published elsewhere: 
'Notes on the Novel', in PN Review; two or three paragraphs from 'The 
Illustrated Novel' and 'Mirrors, Paranoia and the Senselessness of an 
Ending', in the Comparative Criticism  Yearbook 4,  as part of an essay 
entitled 'Cinema, Symbolism and the Gesamtkunstwerk'; and the essay on 
'Doubles', in my book in Polish about the Symbolist poet Bofeslaw 
Ldmian (the present version is partly a translation, partly a revision, of 
the Polish original). I would like to thank Michael Schmidt, the Cam 
bridge University Press and the Paiistwowy lnstytut Wydawniczy in 
Warsaw respectively for permission to reprint. 
I would also like to thank Thomas Pynchon, the Viking Press and 
Jonathan Cape Ltd for permission to reproduce copyright material from 
Gravity's Rainbow in my essay on that novel. 
In conclusion I would like to thank several people who have had an 
influence, direct or indirect, on the shaping of this book. Firstly, I must 
thank Rosemary Bechler for the enthusiasm with which she introduced 
me to Clarissa; I hope she does not feel I have abused the insights I so 
shamelessly appropriated from her. Secondly, GabrielJosipovici, whose 
work has been an inspiration to me even when I have felt compelled to 
disagree with it. Thirdly, Macmillan's reader, whose light I am sadly 
unable to bring out from under the bushel of his namelessness, but whose 
suggestions were very helpful. Fourthly, Thomas Pynchon, whom I have 
never met, but who seems to me to be the major force keeping the novel 
alive today. And finally my wife Anna, without whose encouragement 
very little of what follows  would ever have been put to paper; the 
dedication of this book is scant recompense for my debt. 
lX
Introduction 
The title of this book is two-edged. It states both that the notion of 
realism is a form of fantasy; and that fantasy itself is a form of realism. It 
criticises the claims to objectivity made in the name of classic realism, 
and also reduces fantasy to the reality it flees and reproduces in the dark 
code of dreamlike distortion, symptomatic writing. Realism in prose is 
the fruit of a  fantasy of omnipotence; the all-knowing narrator who 
directs his often shaky plot to the happy idyll of a siding in the best of all 
possible worlds is over-optimistic about the feasibility of dominating 
reality. The solipsistic fantasist and the first person narrator are in a 
sense more realistic than the realist, for they are conscious that other 
people are often opaque and that even the best-laid plot can miscarry. 
Realism and anti-realism are opposed in the same way as are the 
nineteenth and the twentieth centuries, the Victorians and the moder 
nists. To say this is to repeat a truism. But the truism itself contains an 
element of falsity: it is too easy, too banal. For in actuality, realism and 
fantasy are both historically successive modes of consciousness (the 
self-proclaimed modernists swim with the tide of history even when they 
claim to oppose it), and two aspects of the same object. There is a 
dialectic of realism and fantasy, representation and solipsism, at the 
heart of all writing. The fact that one era accentuates one mode, another 
its opposite, means only that the inadequacy of any attempted resolution 
of this dialectic cries out for a  correction that itself requires to be 
corrected. 
Hillis Miller has given a definition of the Victorian novel that may 
appear seductively applicable to all novels. 
Many characteristic Victorian novels show that society no longer 
seems to have a transcendent origin and support. This leads in turn to 
the discovery that the individual human heart generates the game of 
society and establishes its rules. Society rests on human feelings and 
on human will. It is created by the interplay of one mind and heart 
with another.1 
The  assumption  that society 1s  purely self-generating causes  the 
Victorian novel to ignore the return of the repressed in the unforeseen 
1