If I had to compare
Andrzej Bart with any western writer, I’d go for Thomas Pynchon. Both writers have at least three features in common: their books come out extremely rarely; they exemplify sophisticated post-modernist fiction, full of crazy plot ideas and numerous cultural references; and finally, almost nothing is known about either of them. If on the other hand I had to look for the inspiration behind Andrzej Bart’s fiction (and especially Rien ne va plus) within the output of the greatest Polish authors, I would mention the works of Teodor Parnicki, the great magus of the historical novel. While at the time when Rien ne va plus came out the critics focused mainly on the book’s deconstruction of some Polish myths and on seeking out its allusions to literature and art, today we can boldly say that first and foremost Andrzej Bart’s novel displays the subjectivity of any sort of historical tale. With elegant irony – the narrator is the Duke d’Arzipazzi, who by force of a peculiar pact is imprisoned for all eternity within his own portrait – Bart depicts the history of Poland (by a twist of fate the painting ends up in this country) from the eighteenth century up to and including the communist era, from the perspective of the extremely modest opportunities provided by hanging on the walls of the portrait’s successive owners. By the same token the story the duke tells is full of inaccuracies, patent errors and comical misunderstandings – we must remember that as an Italian, d’Arzipazzi does not necessarily have to understand the nuances of the Polish soul, hence his interpretations often argue with what the Poles regard as obvious. In this way Bart really does take a stand against the Polish myths, criticising and making fun of the way they are repeated without reflection. However, the most essential theme involves the writing of history or historical descriptions that, as Bart seems to be saying, are not an expression of the objective truth, but a private view with a limited field of vision, and which is also subordinate to subjective interpretation. But it is hard not to notice that, like every well-cut post-modernist novel, Rien ne va plus is characterised as much by serious content as by well written history dressed in a robe of irony, something that has the power to delight even the fussiest of avid readers.
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