Fifteen Problems by
Noah Eli Gordon
Images by Sommer Browning
Published by above/ground press, 2014.
“First world
problems” is a term I’ve never cared for. It might quiet someone’s
idle complaints but there’s a sense of entitlement lurking its comic intentions that I’ve never felt comfortable
with. What’s worse is hearing my reading voice shout it throughout Noah Eli
Gordon’s Fifteen Problems as though obnoxiously summing up a mystery before it's solved.
It isn’t Gordon’s
fault. His suite of anecdotes doesn’t condescend privilege so much as call attention to
dualistic ways of identifying and nurturing a problem. (Is a situation
confusing or in need of a decision? Then it must be a problem!) Each of these
fifteen paragraphs unfurl like a mini Rubik’s Cube, endowed with layers that compound,
undo or desensitize the perceived importance of a given scenario. As
the following example suggests, the problem can be subjective, fickle and perhaps
totally illusory, but everything else hinges on finding it:
She writes a
stunningly accurate review praising the reclusive novelist’s long-awaited new
book. Upon its publication, a key sentence of the review contains an error of
omission that, while minor, reverses her intended meaning, rendering the piece
as a damning take on the book. Still, there is near universal agreement as to
her review’s stunning accuracy. The problem is, as any good narrator knows,
accuracy is never stunning.
These tales of
situational irony and simple misfortune carry no prescribed form besides
succinctness, so it’s a wonder to note the recurring trace of uncertainty –
some grey area of impartiality – that these clean sentences harbour. Sometimes
I’m convinced “The Problem” is the reader’s to solve, as even the ones I do not
fully understand invite an obsessive re-reading. (Those who find themselves
stuck can also look for hints in Sommer Browning’s charming sketches.)
That these curious case studies aren't looking to be solved in the conventional sense keeps Fifteen Problems wily and
unpredictable. Some aim for remotely clever zingers while others
gleefully tangle in the yarn. Let’s take a look at the stakes behind two
problems:
He kissed his
third cousin once, in the rain, under a canopy of branches and kudzu, on a
Wednesday afternoon. Incidentally, today is also Wednesday. I like to think of
it as the third day of the week. The problem is it’s the fourth.
And:
First, there were
a lot of gods. Then there was one, but a lot of ones. Can I tell you that what
I most admire about the arachnid is the mechanics of so many legs in motion?
After a while, the problem adds up to something infinite. And then, then
there’s just us counting it.
As with the latter
example, I find Fifteen Problems more compelling when it subverts the
tangibility of these tribulations to probe deeper habitual thought patterns. Why
do we marginalize small dramas from the rest of our daily lives? At what moment
does a situation turn into a problem, and how do we react to that labeling? All
of Gordon’s discrepancies, as breadcrumbs toward irrelevance or irrelevant in
and of themselves, outline “the problem” as a shape-shifting character - like
fate. And just like fate, there are moments in Fifteen Problems where the clout
of conflict evaporates like a mirage, leaving each reader’s best interpretation
of truth.
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