Introduction to Focus: The ’60 at 50—Great Books, Great Readers Charles B. Harris (bio) In our last issue, Part I of ABR’s “The ’60s at 50” focus featured essays by writers who helped pioneer and perpetuate what we have come to know as postmodernist fiction. Part II continues this discussion by featuring critics who helped us learn how to read in the new ways postmodernist literature demands. Literary history—indeed, the history of all serious art—is propelled by formal discontinuities. Strong poets, to borrow Harold Bloom’s iconic term for writers who matter, seem constitutionally averse to doing what’s already been done, so they thumb their noses at aesthetic propriety, chart new directions, in the process disturbing artistic boundaries as well as those “aesthetic policemen” (Richard Powers’s pithy term from his Part I focus essay) who safeguard those boundaries. The barrier policemen patrolled in the ’60s was called Realism, which, like Barthelme’s Dead Father, continues to walk among us, still dominant but no longer able to generate anything new because the 19th century scientific and philosophical worldview from which it sprung has been superseded. As Robert Scholes observes in his 1967 study The Fabulators, an important early attempt to teach us how to read the new fiction, “notions of fictional propriety [were] derived from a version of realism that had seen its best days and was being perpetuated in a trivial and often mechanical way.” Blinkered by realist orthodoxy, professional critics of the time “ignored, misinterpreted, or critically abused” the new fiction, in part, Scholes proposes, “because it lacked a name.” Great books, Whitman famously asserted, require great readers. Fortunately, the new fiction emerging in the ’60s quickly attracted a number of strong readers, whose first task, as Scholes suggested, was to name it. Some, like Scholes, associated this fiction with older traditions (Scholes borrows the term “fabulator” from William Caxton). Ray Federman, a practitioner of the stuff, dubbed it Surfiction because of its analogies to Surrealism (“it exposes the fictionality of reality”) and edited a 1975 collection with that title. Others, myself among them, linked it to the contemporaneous theater of the absurd, but “novel of the absurd” failed to resonate. Still others, generalizing from specific attributes of the new development, called it Metafiction or Black Humor. For awhile, it looked as if Black Humor had won the day, in part because of the popularity of Bruce Jay Friedman’s 1965 anthology by that name. But somewhere in the late 1970s, the term “postmodernist” began to emerge, due in part to a series of books and essays by Ihab Hassan. That name stuck. To be sure, “postmodernist” fiction is a critic’s term, shorthand we “specialists” use to group writers who are doing certain things in similar ways so that we can talk about them coherently. Writers, by contrast, tend to resist such categorization, for the sensible reason that most things they do are uniquely their own. “As a family,” William Gass says of fellow postmodernists in his Part I focus essay, “the bunch won’t water in the same vase with any comfort.” But the characteristics that link postmodernist writers—metafictive self-consciousness, a darkly mordant wit, a penchant for fabulation and play, a tendency toward baroque excess, and, perhaps most significantly, an insistence that human reality is not something received but, to a far greater extent than the tenets of realism allow, something constructed, always already mediated by our symbol systems—account for their cultural consequentiality as a group in addition to whatever consequentiality their substantial individual achievements accrue. As I argued in my Introduction to Part I of this focus, postmodernist innovations draw upon older traditions as venerable as the ones they displace. But to many, this fiction seemed and continues to seem eccentric, unnecessarily difficult, even, to some, menacing. From the beginning, it’s provoked powerful adversaries. From John Gardner’s notorious On Moral Fiction (1977) through Gerald Graff’s Literature Against Itself (1979) to the more recent fulminations of such critics and writers as James Wood, Lee Siegel, Jonathan Franzen, and David Foster Wallace, opponents of postmodernist fiction have argued, often with more heat than logic, for the...