Themes: Dystopia, Post-Narco Baroque, Drug Experimentation, Modern Art, Hedonism
Read this if: You’ve wondered what it would be like if Philip K. Dick was a modern art critic.
Don’t read this if: You want a firm understanding of what is happening in the story you are reading.
Links to purchase: Coffee House Press, Amazon
If you’ve ever been to a modern art gallery, then you are familiar with the feeling of being fairly nonplussed, but appreciating the aesthetic value of the art nonetheless. By story’s end, that is the overwhelming feeling that Juan Cárdenas’s Ornamental leaves with the reader. And running only 117 pages, it is consumable in about the same amount of time as it would take to meander through a large gallery.
The story is set in the not distant future, of a nameless city in Colombia, revolving around a nameless set of characters: the doctor, test subjects #1-4, and the doctor’s wife. The book opens with a setup that is strongly reminiscent of a Phillip K. Dick movel, a doctor sitting in his lab reviewing his detailed observations of the four women serving as test subjects for a new narcotic developed by the doctor’s drug company. The unnamed drug, which has no effect on men, produces orgasmic euphoria in female subjects. In the case of test subject #4, the drug has the added effect of launching her into rapturious discourse, which the doctor transcribes in full:
“The peasant is on her knees praying fervently. Adoration of the young shepherdess. Beside her, a courtesan bows in official reverence before the Apparition. The bear will soon eat the Virgin Mary’s living image alive, blue mantle and all. It’s a spectacled bear, Tremarctos ornatus. At the end of the hall, you hear panting; the nanny and the Sextus. It’s pitch black except for the light of the half-open fridge spilling onto the kitchen floor. The fridge’s stomach growls. My mom shouts at someone upstairs. Fireflies swarm the patio and the guava tree. I cross myself afraid they’ll find me hiding there, and fiddle with the pom-poms on my socks. All my socks have pom-poms. The cold tile makes me want to urinate.”
These dadaist excerpts are a glimpse into what’s to come later in the book. The story moves from its standard, albeit interesting, dystopian opening, into the dynamics of a love triangle, and then finally into the blurring of dreams and reality.
At one point in the story, the doctor’s wife (an artist) makes the observation, in reference to her upcoming show that, “perhaps we have to completely renounce our urge to interpret.” That could very well be an exhortation for the reader as well. The story is best enjoyed by letting the rich collage of disjointed imagery wash over you.
While the author clearly has a lot to say on a range of topics: the nature of art, capitalism, humanity’s complex relationships with drugs, our bodies and each other, he has been careful to not overly prejudice the text with his own opinions. So rather than dig for the intent of the author, just see where the narrative pushes your own mind, and how you respond to Ornamental’s aesthetic absurdity.
It would be silly to write a review any longer for a book that runs at just over 40,000 words. Simply put, the book is well worth a read for anyone who enjoys the surreal. If you find that you often get enraged by modern art, probably skip this one.