{Review #10} Why you should or shouldn't pick up María Gainza's Optic Nerve

I mean, I loved it.

I'll be honest and admit it embarrasses me that I found out about this book because it was a ToB semifinalist—which, together with the Man Booker International and similar instances, is the usual way I find out about non-Chilean Latin American books now. For shame, I know.  

If I told you what this is about, I would say it's about a woman reflecting on the intersection of life and art. The problem is, that can describe a memoir, a novel, a short story or essay or even poetry collection. So what is this book, really?

Well. Let us walk through a brief tangent to reflect on the idea of genre. Like any child whose parents (especially my dad) supported her voracious reading but, not being big readers of fiction themselves (my dad was a straight self-help/pop psychology reader for years, while my mom is a Jehovah's witness), couldn't really monitor it, I never thought much about genre. I probably distinguished between adult books and children's/YA books, and maybe even fiction and non-fiction. Even so, I took my pick from all of these, reading them by flights of fancy, so it wasn't really until college and booktube that I became interested in the concept and its complexities.

So why should we really care about genre, if you can enjoy reading regardless?

Well, because it inevitably sets up expectations. As Neil Gaiman so eloquently puts it in "The Pornography of Genre or, the Genre of Pornography", genre is "a set of assumptions, a loose contract between the creator and the audience" which is manifest in a set of elements that the content will have, without which you'd feel cheated. The creator can subvert, can twist and turn and follow neatly or messily, but those elements will always be there in some form or another. 

So how is this relevant to Optic Nerve? Well, it's just that it's being marketed as a novel, but if you expect any of the traditional novel elements (except perhaps characters), you will be utterly disappointed. Of course, under the guise of "experimental" much can be done, and when in doubt that's what publishers will go with because it will sell more than under literally any other label. It's okay, I can respect the hustle. But if this is not a novel... then what is it?

I would say it's a(n) (auto?)fictionalized essay collection. As in, this reads like a personal essay collection and you should pick it up when in the mood for that. If I'm not mistaken, the narrator is a stand-in for Gainza herself, though how much of the books' events are based on fact is unclear and unnecessary information—hence the fictional aspect. 

Should you pick this book up? This one in particular is very much up to personal taste, but if you are in the mood for personal essays on art and are looking for a different (read non-US/English) perspective, I would encourage you to do so. Personally, I am a sucker for books like this (see my review of The Friend and Motherhood for proof), and reading one from an Argentinian perspective set in Buenos Aires, a city I adore so much, was a great experience. 

And how is it, quality-wise? Well, I appreciated how Gainza doesn't take herself too seriously, but takes art and aesthetic experience as potentially life-changing. She is not cynical about it: she is vulnerable and open to her life being changed, showing you why you should be too. Her writing is mostly straightforward, like an engaging conference talk, but has these beautiful moments of insight that took my breath away.

There you have it, my strange review of Optic Nerve. Even if I really enjoyed it, this is not one I would push into everyone's hands. If you are interested and end up picking it up, however, do contact me on Twitter or Instagram and let me know your thoughts!