Donald Barthelme (1931-1989) was an American writer known for writing fiction (c.
2200 BC-present) which combined
playful parodies of genres with surrealist (c. 1920-present) jokes and yet still managed to
carry emotional weight.
He was born in
Philadelphia (
1682-present
) and grew up in Texas (
1519-present
), but spent much of his adult life in
New York City (
1524-present
), where he regularly wrote for
The New Yorker (1925-
present). He had a deep interest in modern art, and for a while was director of Houston's Contemporary Arts Museum.
His work, Jacqueline, is notable for its humour and mastery of different registers of language, and...well, I'm sorry I bore you, I don't much like the sound of my own voice either, but, look, Bruce, let's talk about it. I can tell you're not happy. Have you read
Sixty Stories? That and
Forty Stories are the two definitive selections from his work. Oh, one second, sorry. -Um, sorry, miss?
-Yes, sir?
-I'm not totally happy with this risotto. It has too many weapons in it.
-That's the
Risotto alla mitriagliatrici, sir. It does specifically say.
-Yes, but, okay. I guess I just wasn't prepared.
-Do you want me to take some of the weapons out of it?
-Could you? Maybe just the
Vickers.
-That's no problem.
-Thank you. Anyway, Akeem, Barthelme's work has been enormously influential on American fiction and among his
famous fans are writers such as
Thomas Pynchon, John Barth and Nicholson Baker. Am I talking too much? He also wrote novels, among the most notable of which are
Snow White, which as the title suggests is a kind of
Deconstructive Parody of the
Snow White story;
The Dead Father, in which the main characters constantly
drag around the building-sized corpse of their father, and his last novel
The King, which pitches
King Arthur against
Those Wacky Nazis. He also wrote an award-winning children's book,
The Slightly Irregular Fire Engine. Apart from his work, he is notable for having
grown a beard. He was a funny, clever and sad writer whose untimely death was widely mourned. Don't cry, Bettina. Here. Have some of this pie.
I know you do. That's why I ordered it.