In 2013, while acting as Director and Curator of Peter
Whitehead’s Nohzone Archive I worked on the publication of his novel, Girl on the Train. We were pleased to
be working on this project with the great Jan B. Gordon, Professor Emeritus at
Tokyo University, author of, among others, Gossip and Subversion in
Nineteenth-Century British Fiction: Echo’s Economies (1996). Gordon had previously
written an afterword – or more specifically, a ‘Delayed Preface’, an active and
intentional paratext – for Whitehead’s postmodern take on nineteenth-century
British fiction, BrontëGate (1999). With a shared
enthusiasm not just for the Brontës but also the likes of Thomas DeQuincey and
Japanese modernism more generally, Whitehead and Gordon kept in touch following
this first collaboration. When the time came to prepare Girl on the
Train, a novel
heavily indebted to writers like Yasunari Kawabata Whitehead was once again
keen to have Gordon’s input.
We originally intended to bookend the novel with a foreword
and an afterword, two texts that would frame and unpack the novel for those new
to Whitehead’s Nohzone material. I was to write the foreword as an introductory
and explicatory text while Gordon agreed to provide a responsive,
impressionistic afterword. In the event, the text that Gordon produced – a
long, magisterial ‘Shidai’ – carried out both tasks with aplomb. With the
manuscript already text heavy and with the ‘Shidai’ more readily capturing the
spirit of the project (as well as echoing BrontëGate's ‘Delayed
Preface’) Whitehead and I decided to omit the foreword.
I’m now offering it here for the first time. It did the
job, I think, of contextualizing and opening-up Whitehead’s rich but sometimes
dizzyingly complex Nohzone project. Using Gordon’s ‘Shidai’ was the better
editorial move, though. It suited the novel, while the foreword below is much
more of an essay, better placed in the present context or similar. It was
written from the same perspective as the introduction for the Terrorism screenplay and
thus should be seen as part of the critical engagement with Whitehead’s work,
rather than a literary supplement.
Whitehead sadly passed away last year. While his archive
and his novels are well served, Nohzone.com is, at the time of writing,
offline. I hope that this short text, along with the Terrorism introduction
can work as an initial means of documenting that project and some of its
intentions.
*
Girl on the Train is
the third volume of Peter Whitehead’s Nohzone Trilogy. Along with the first and
second volumes, Terrorism Considered
as One of the Fine Arts and Nature’s Child, Girl was
originally published online as part of Whitehead’s hypertext project
Nohzone.com. This rhizomic constellation of interconnected (and interactive)
fictions invites the reader to plot a non-linear movement through, across and
between its posted materials. The three novels could be read in sequence, as
with a ‘conventional’ trilogy, or alternatively navigated via a more intuitive
movement facilitated by the digital context. By moving from novel to novel
across a range of hyperlinks, links also connect the trilogy to a series of
factual and fictional ‘satellite’ texts, the intention was for the reader to
generate a ‘new’ text through each act of reading. One of the main ‘branches’
of Nohzone’s online ‘tree’ was the portmanteau text And Death Shall Have
No Domain Name. This was offered as the ‘fourth’ novel of the trilogy and
took the form of a re-organized sequence of extracts from the first three
novels. In this respect, it was intended to add to, and demonstrate the
operation of the site. It added to the overall narrative of the three novels,
extending what was available to be read, whilst also instantiating one possible result
of one possible movement
through the material. And Death highlighted
what could be produced in the user’s mind as a result of reading the texts.
Overall, the Nohzone project was an exercise in textual verticality, a space in
which, to quote one of the site’s primary maxims, “fiction becomes infinity”.
The overt experimentation of Nohzone.com was not merely
stylistic. It was integral to the plot and thematic significance of the posted
novels. It also amplified the concerns and formal devices present in much of
Whitehead’s previous writing, particularly The Risen.
Specifically, the Nohzone trilogy takes hypertextual productivity as its
primary thematic focus. The basic plotline, established in Terrorism, is
centered on the retrieval of a sequence of memoirs written by novelist and
ex-MI5 agent, Michael Schlieman. Schlieman is one of Whitehead’s most important
literary personae having previously appeared in Pulp Election and BrontëGate. He
works as a signifier of the ambivalent overlap between fact and fiction,
secrecy and disclosure; the compromised zones of novel and
memoir.
In Terrorism we
are told that Schlieman has disappeared following his retirement and expressed
intention to expose government secrets in his writing. The novel’s unnamed
narrator, an ‘investigative journalist’ traces Schlieman’s steps to the rural
nest of Cumbria, his childhood home and last known location. Here he begins to
collate the numerous texts that Schlieman has distributed across a series of
tumbleweed websites. This is of course exactly what the ‘external’ reader of
Nohzone.com is also doing: accessing, exploring and connecting a series of
ambiguous online ‘fictions’.
As the Nohzone trilogy develops what is revealed is not so
much a set of ‘secrets’ as a narrative that shows Schlieman’s mind at work. The
texts proceed via processes of overdetermination, condensation and associative
non-linearity. The narrator gains access to an entire unconscious, as does the
reader: both that of Schlieman and their own. Because the interactivity of the
Nohzone site permits and encourages a pro-active model of reading, the
permutation of the combined novels produced at any one sitting essentially
works a map of that reader’s own associative mechanism. We read Schlieman
reading us: everyone is involved, everyone is complicit.
As the third volume in the main Nohzone trilogy, Girl on the Train embarks
on something of a detour from the setting and stylistics of the previous two
novels. It outlines a further series of Schlieman texts but rather than
continuing to detail the events of his Cumbrian sojourn, it ostensibly
describes the character’s trip to an academic conference in Japan. ‘Trip’ is
the operative word here. Terrorism,
contains references to conferences and invited lectures as an allusion to the
public machinery of academia. The device also facilitates the rhetorical
dimension of Schlieman’s character as it allows the novel, particularly in its
early sections, to be punctuated by a series of extended monologues. In Girl, the motif
of the international conference works in a slightly different way. It provides
a pretext for Schlieman to move into a hallucinogenic zone of cultural, textual
and linguistic reference points vastly different to the Gothic and Romantic
discourses informing Terrorism and Nature’s Child.
The subject of the novel’s conference is the Shishosetsu, “the
so-called I novel”. This genre of Japanese literary realism
operates as an autobiographical discourse in which the author assumes the role
of the central protagonist. Such fidelity often gives rise to confessional
material as in the case of Shimazaki Toson’s Haki (1906). In
this respect the ‘I-Novel’ can be seen as an extension of the ambiguous
intimacy of the pillow book. As Jun’ ichiro Tanizaki highlighted in his 1956
novel Kagi (The Key) the personal notebook or diary
frequently occupies a liminal space between the private and the public. It
ostensibly provides a forum for the composition of ‘self-writing’ but this
idealized closed circuit is problematised as the material production of the
private text either hypothesizes or becomes available to an additional
addressee.
In Girl, Whitehead works within this literary
mode whilst also thematizing its methodological implications. That is to say,
the interior texts that constitute the Nohzone trilogy could be categorized as
Schlieman’s own Shishosetu, a formal analogy that the explicitly
Japanese literary and geographical context is used to cement. In addition, an
important image used at the novel’s opening is that of Schlieman travelling by
train and seeing his reflection in the compartment window. Developed further in
Whitehead’s Terrorism film, this uncanny apprehension works as
a depiction of the self-projection operative in the I-Novel. Within the context
of the novel, it indicates how with Girl, moreso than in the
previous Nohzone texts, Schlieman observes the conjured ‘I’ that his writings
make manifest.
Within this specific literary framework, Whitehead’s
primary point of reference is Yasunari Kawabata’s Yukiguni or Snow
Country (1947), a sparse novel that narrates the brief liaison between
Shimamura, a man from Tokyo, and Komako, a geisha from the rural and snowbound
hot-spring town of Yuzawa. Girl repeats Kawabata’s setting,
plot outline and basic character dynamics to the extent that, by Whitehead’s
own admission, the novel becomes a creative plagiarism of the earlier text.
As Pulp Election and BrontëGate have both
highlighted, plagiarism exists as a point of fascination for Whitehead.
Although it maintains the resonance of the ultimate artist’s taboo, his
interest lies in the idea of appropriating and absorbing a pre-existing work.
For Whitehead, the plagiarised novel exists as an intertwined caduceus in which
two texts are entangled: the ‘original’ and its recreated ‘version’. The work
of one author is articulated through the writing of another. When seen from
this perspective, Whitehead’s extensive ‘borrowing’ of Kawabata works as an
attempt to textually construct the type of intersecting ‘holographic’ structure
described in The Risen. Girl on the Train does not
just make reference to Snow Country but it repeats it in the
telling of its own story to the extent that the reader is presented with the
interference of both Kawabata and Whitehead.
It is on this basis of this distinct intertextuality
that Girl on the Train can be seen, and is here presented, as
a stand-alone text. Within the Nohzone trilogy it is something of a singular
performance. While it is texturally connected to the other novels it
simultaneously presents a specific dialogue with Kawabata and Japanese fiction
that is exclusive to this volume. In saying this, the present form of the novel
should be taken as a circumvention of the conceptual structure that underpins
the Nohzone project. Terrorism was published in print form in
2007 and can thus be read alongside this edition of Girl on the Train.
However, neither one negates the online presence or functionality of Nature’s
Child. In fact, this form of dissemination should serve to intensify the
interconnectivity of the Nohzone texts. Read and enjoy Girl on the
Train as a novel in and of itself. Then read it with Terrorism and
then read it with Terrorism and Nature’s Child.
Each time you will be reading a different novel because while Girl has
been carefully constructed in line with the architecture of its ur-text, its
barriers are productively porus, open to penetration when brought into
proximity with its parallel texts. Each part is reflective of the whole and yet
each part carries a distinct, crystalline structure. With Girl on the
Train you are permitted to explore a remarkable landscape, so enjoy it.
But should you wish to explore further, there are other stations down the line.
