Come Back, Dr. Caligari by Donald Barthelme

 



Come Back, Dr. Caligari, collection of fourteen short stories by the king of minimalist postmodern fiction, Dapper Donald Barthelme. Our first-rate American scribbler doesn't hesitate to snatch themes and types, curios and characters from myth, fable, legend, fairy tale, comic books, Pop Art, Op Art and upside down urinals. Go get 'em Dada Don.

Here's a tidbit on a duo of Don's Dr. Caligari ditties:

THE PLAYER PIANO
Setting the Stage, Postmodern Style
Donald's opening line: "Outside his window five-year-old Priscilla Hess, square and squat as a mailbox (red sweater, blue lumpy corduroy pants), looked around poignantly for someone to wipe her overflowing nose." Ugh! Priscilla isn't exactly the photogenic little girl advertisers would use to sell their products. Donald Barthelme wrote this piece in the early sixties, worlds away from 1950s American realism, writers like Richard Yates and James Baldwin.

Family Values, Postmodern Style
"A filet of green Silly Putty disappeared into fat Priscilla Hess and he turned to greet his wife who was crawling through the door on her hands and knees." The ugliness continues - a blob of bodily fluid from kiddo and a wife who is anything but the prototypical Hollywood sweetheart. Holy Donald Barthelme! - she's crawling through the front door of her very own home on her hands and knees. Did Barbara Billingsley ever do that in Leave it to Beaver?

Irony and Playfulness
“The ham died,” she said. “I couldn’t cure it. I tried everything." Oh, DonBarth! Is that a play on words or a groaner? Well, as a writer of the postmodern, you're entitled to toss in cornball corny jokes - but lets not overdo it! Remind me, all you literary types, did Upton Sinclair or John Steinbeck sprinkle their novels with such corn?

Discontinuous Narratives
As with stream-of-consciousness, so Donald deals in what I term stream-of-dialogue - to take a Player Piano example:

“It’s senseless, senseless, senseless,” she said. “I’ve been caulking the medicine chest. What for? I don’t know. You’ve got to give me more money. Ben is bleeding. Bessie wants to be an S.S. man. She’s reading The Rise and Fall. She’s identified with Himmler. Is that her name? Bessie?”

Blur Difference Between High Art and Low Art
“Get up,” he said softly, “get up, dearly beloved. Stand up and sing. Sing Parsifal.”
“I want a Triumph,” she said from the floor. “A TR-4. Everyone in Stamford, every single person, has one but me. If you gave me a TR-4 I’d put our ugly children in it and drive away. To Wellfleet. I’d take all the ugliness out of your life.”
“A green one?”
“A red one,” she said menacingly. “Red with red leather seats.”

From a famous Richard Wagner opera to a famous sports car. Easy peasy for ink slingers of the postmodern.

Minimalism
The Player Piano clocks in at a mere three pages. Some call it short short stories, some call it microfiction, some call it snappers, some call it blasters but however you call it, it ain't conventional.

Jolt of Finality
DB's brief final paragraph: "He took a good grip on its black varnishedness. He began to trundle it across the room, and, after a slight hesitation, it struck him dead."

Dang. Just when you thought you might get off easy, the story's light and play turns into a tale of life and death.



THE JOKER'S GREATEST TRIUMPH
Holy Batman! Donald Barthelme combines his high literary art with comic book hero and villain. And Daring Donald's dialogue digs deep into literary deconstruction, as per this snippet:

“Oh by the way,” Commissioner Gordon said. “How’s Robin doing at Exeter?”
“It’s not Exeter it’s Andover,” Batman said. “He’s doing very well. Having a little trouble with his French.”
“I had a little trouble with it myself,” the Commissioner said jovially. “Ou est man livre?”
“Ou est ton livre?” Batman said.

Help me, gang. Has James Patterson or Mary Higgins Clark ever featured comic book superstars and then proceeded to poke fun at them?

Go ahead, treat your literary taste buds to the tang of DB's Dr. Caligari.


American author Donald Barthelme, 1931-1989

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