Within the recent novel Black Innocence by David Wilde lies the text, both the sub-text and meta-text, which conveys the descriptive narrative covering the literary distance between The Outsider by Colin Wilson (1956) and The Immigrant the film made by Charles Chaplain in the 1920s.
An original work, Black Innocence has been adapted as a university text-book in Austria for a seminar in the area of Post-Modernism (Graz-June 1998).
It is, unlike most novels on or about the idea of the exile a positive success story in its own right, as the story frequently reflects on marginality in physical terms, mental terms and psychological/social and cultural identity. In short it engages the reader in a dialogue, a discourse provoking a reaction of sorts. This book also elicits views and opinions, not always sympathetic, on the Modern era in the late 20th centuries' desperation to ‘belong’ while in doing so fostering a reflection of the exiles’ introspection and the need to look to a higher mountain both of truth and reality.
An allegory of social commentary which at times perhaps closely parallels The Outsider where the author looks to the ‘other’. (Fear, loathing, courage, loneliness, lost-ness, belonging-ness. Looking for a place to fit in: fitting-in-ness.)
To summarise: Black Innocence is the experience of exiles, where sometimes bitterness drives the thoughts and the pain, where seeking and searching is the only mission.
The author of The Outsiders (Colin Wilson) like the author of Black Innocence who grew up in the Leicester suburban landscape, reflects a 1950s perspective. The comparison with The Outsiders by Colin Wilson is a fair comparison when looked at through the microscopic lens of the background of Leicester as a cultural and environmental backdrop.
Accents, the industrial landscape, signatures of hopelessness and economic plurality/dualities: the poor, the advantaged, the hopeful and the hopeless.
The difference between, with and from Black Innocence though may be discerned in its brief interlude of prose and in the three main sections of the novels' formal stylistic approach to the concentration of word-use.
Both Colin Wilson and Julian Barnes are two other major league writers, as successful Leicester types, as is also Sue Townsend the author of the well-known Adrien Mole series, who the author of Black Innocence recognizes and synthesizes though not deliberately, as writers.
He then seeks to unify in the description and representation of the Ludite Character (a Leicester-archetype) this singular individual who personalizes the dense language of Black Innocence, rather perhaps than as a reflection of the community or society at large, and their innate or even intrinsic values.
Therefore, Black Innocence in its exploration or rebellion, ‘is’ the silent witness.
The novel takes place in the other-land, the exile and therefore the prophetic voice is a spokes-person for the innocent, the unborn generations yet to come! It is a book and a story for the arrived and is thus a disturbing and at times dark and lonely description of abandonment, yet it is also a persistent refusal to compromise, to give-in!
The story describes the outsider, the loner, who wants and needs to return and to belong!
Generally written in a first-person narrative form although not always, shaping the thread of a discourse in Joycean lyrical language the text is often composed in crowded sentence structures articulating a (sometimes) heavy use of adjectives almost bombastic in style both in irony and tensions of grammar.
Often in Black Innocence the spirit of the novel is much in evidence, even more strongly suggested say than in the letter of the novel, though not necessarily always strictly the case in either instance.
Silence in speech both in the passive and active voice, roles or modes, is often the model effectively used.
Still, the language, that which the self-exile creates via verbal images, acts as a catalyst throughout the narrative for the reader and haunts the discussion, dialogue or monologue, of the author and his listeners, who then basically describes the human condition in his intellectual search for Nirvana and sometimes self-parodying, even comic, literary walkabout.
In a sense, this outrageous diatribe aimed at the ordinary citizen, is a projection of the ideal existence and yet at the same time, a true reflection on the contradictions that as a consequence of other realities such as time and energy, real and imagined, naturally ensue.
The evidence for Black Innocence calling itself a novel is in the contemporary reviews of certain well known American writers and other professional educators in the study of both the Modern and Post Modern texts.
i.e.: 1). Lawrence Ferlinghetti, City Lights Books (1993)
2). Dr. Peter Pabisch, Professor of German, University of New Mexico (1998)).-----------------------------------------------
another important meeting, of the underground railways system, a cool and crystal clear crafting, in the dusky English twilight of shell-shocked heroes, of the Thunder Zone, in this altitude. Its shimmering image existence, the patois of a people. Educated attitudes, in this library, are portraying the inky shadows, bestowed by books of dusty, dim, and arcane knowledge, in emotional turmoil, in giant impeccable caricatures of a genteel persuasion. Reflections and dark whirlpool refractions, tipping the scales of the struggle, to speak, voice low, and urgently spreading the wisdom gathered.
Once upon a time, in an eclectic Oxford English pub, parenthetically called the Parrot and Child, the eclectic author, Tolkein, would carefully practice his secretive Medieval language, boyishly gasping, and giggling in wild childish glee, at being released from his sucking fortress prison of teaching. Surreptitiously lure ambitious students to his colonial stockade, who could find him there, and share a pint of laughter, tears, and good old fashioned gossip, at the pinnacle stroke of the pre-nuptial noon hour. His pen and crawling leaded sentences, are history, and now about to be exploited, by the rip-roaring ravings of a Dylan Thomas wannabe, in the dark infested jungles, of Nowhere, New Mexico. The god-forsaken land of a hidden, beaten people, protesting.
Cowed by, and sheltering from, the bitter biting November winds, the eclectic sense is strong, and rebelling at registered voters, and plain speaking ladies and gentlemen, aghast at the quivering afterbirth of this written, and vigorous outpouring, loquacious, but impacting colloquial circuits of style. It would be impolite, ungracious, but easy, to get bigheaded about a literary fashion, but wantonly unfortunate, to think it required merit, or improper to believe it necessary to attract that gauche attention. Its the unconscious persistent effort to realize a defining eclectic written form, a voice, and authentic graceful argument, to separate the warring factions, of internecine didactic quarreling, a previously liturgical arrangement, now removed to the center-stage, of history. The particular reason a certain crazy old lady, from Chicago, would like, if possible, to get her clammy sticky fingers on to my manuscript, and any one elses for that matter. The ladys name is Ruby, but not Red. A supporter of the not yet enacted 13th century codex, a manifesto, of gratuitous Jesuit violence, and impending ludicrous hate-speech, with despotic circles, beneath her bulging, besotted, red eyes, and cloudy scarlet rouge on jowls of voluptuous cheeks and jutting jawbone.
The gnawing suspicion is, that, orthodontally speaking, this redolent, redundant, bombast, with Moscow red hair, is not speaking English, in any given instance, merely exaggerating the limpid linguistic connections, and labored sweating loyalty, to Messieurs Derrida and friends, were this to be merely the only description necessary, to capture the naked errant slave.
Fortunately for us, its not the only revolution, to encounter and conquer nudity, in a literary sense, in any meaningful and riparian questioning, of those lords of the missing vocabulation, namely, the tenured pagan idol-worshippers, at the Delphic Oracle, of Education... (Continued)