The Emerald by Donald Barthelme

Diamonds are a little ordinary.

There is quirky absurdist fiction and then there's Donald Barthelme's indelible postmodern approach that is completely bonkers, a total acid trip. Not many authors can pull off quirky absurdism so effectively and here it’s full-tilt, unfiltered chaos. I’m fully convinced Barthelme dabbled in psychedelics while writing this because the entire thing reads like an acid trip narrated by a mischievous librarian. The humdrum and colloquial prose makes the absurdity feel even more ridiculous. Wordplay, puns, pastiche, collage—this is quintessential Barthelme madness. Donald Barthelme once again embraces playful nonsense, where clichés are recycled with such sincerity that they become delightful again. 

We’ve got Mad Moll, a witch who is somehow both magical and yet underwhelming in her powers. She gives birth to a 7,000-pound, 35-carat emerald after being impregnated by Deus Lunus, the literal Man in the Moon. As one does. 

The emerald itself talks like a precocious child, dropping existential one-liners when it isn’t being stolen, coveted, or rolled around like a sentient gemstone bowling ball. Naturally, everyone wants to steal the giant gem-baby, including Vandermaster, a mage who seeks immortality because he grew up poor eating nothing but gruel. 

This whole world is a fallen, morally bankrupt funhouse where the marvelous is rendered mundane. The author utilizes mythology as source as moral enlightenment but the story is narrated like someone muttering to themselves on the subway. Dialogue does most of the heavy lifting, though half the time you’re not entirely sure who is speaking or why. This is done on purpose to further obfuscate meaning, compounding the absurdism, creating even more confusion. The author seems to trust that the reader will learn to swim in the nonsense or drown, which might be more accurate. 

There's a bunch of side characters that drift in and out of the story along with multiple subplots. We also get media politics with Lily the intrepid reporter that is tasked by her cantankerous editor (Lather, the editor-King) to investigate the whole debacle. 

At one point Lily asks Moll: 

“What is the meaning of the emerald?” and Moll responds with: “It means, one, that the gods are not yet done with us.”

That's deep. I guess?

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that Mary Magdalene’s foot shows up for an interview. Yes, just the foot. Vandermaster stole it from a Carthusian monastery, as one does in a story like this and Moll’s sidekick Soapbox ends up using it to kill him. I swear I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Moll’s final philosophical epiphany is poetic and profound although is it merely hollow pontification?

“We resume the scrabble for existence, in the sweet of the here and now.” 

Which is basically Barthelme telling us to enjoy the weirdness and embrace the absurdity of life because it's often all we’ve got. It's a heroic act to actively choose to live in a chaotic and absurd world where nothing makes sense. 

10/10 would read again, if only to confirm that yes, Mary Magdalene’s foot really did get interviewed by a reporter.