"In sum I'm not what either parent or I had in mind." Autobiography: A Self-Recorded Fiction, John Barth

American author John Barth, born 1930, could be considered the poster child for metaphysical, postmodern fiction (Be so kind as to picture a giant John, as per above, on a billboard along your local highway). Recognizing this splendid fact, we may ask: Since John Barth nearly always has his words and sentences reflect back on themselves, what in the world would his autobiography look like? Are we talking a nine-hundred page tome? No! How about something more conventional, say, a book the length of the average novel with its two-hundred-fifty pages broken up into twelve chapters? Nope. Not even close. What we are dealing with here ladies and gentleman and readers of all ages is – fanfare with trumpets, please – a five-page short story.

Actually, next to FRAME-TALE, a story that, at ten words, is both the shortest story every written and the longest story every written (there are instruction of how to cut on the dotted line and twist one end and fasten thus creating a Mobius strip with words trailing off to infinity), Autobiography: A Self-Recorded Fiction is one of the shortest stories in this John Barth short story collection entitled Lost in the Funhouse. So, without further ado, rather than subjecting you the reader to a detailed exposé of the metaphysics of meta-fiction, below are my ten top reasons to read this story and treat yourself to a little postmodern literary funhouse fun, John Barth style:

1 - In the very first line, the narrator gives you, the reader, credit for bringing the story of his life to life by reading his story. However, if it turns out to be a bad life, he will not hold you responsible.

2 - The narrator, let’s give him a name – John-John (this is fiction; not to be confused with the actual author John Barth – lets the truth be known: he didn’t ask to be born. Neither did his parents ask that he be their child. At least you have to give John-John credit for his honesty.

3 - John-John wonders if we are following his train of thought as he pens his autobiography since, in the world of postmodern meta-fiction, the process of writing and how the words, the writing and the process make their impression on readers is an ongoing concern.

4 - We read: “Look, I’m writing. No, listen, I’m nothing but talk; I won’t last long.” Again, we can award John-John points for honesty since he’s telling the truth - his autobiography is less than six pages in length.

5 - Again: “From my conception to the present moment Dad’s tried to turn me off; not ardently, not consistently, not successfully so far, but persistently, persistently, with at least half a heart. How do I know. I’m his bloody mirror!” Not to be outdone by meatier autobiographies, we can slap some serious Freudian or Jungian psychoanalytic theory at John-John’s life.

6 - And again: “Not every kid thrown to the wolves ends a hero: for each survivor, a mountain of beast-baits; for every Oedipus, a city of feebs.” Come on, John-John! Is that a witty play-on-words or a good reason to make us groan?

7 - John-John admits he doesn’t have a clue about his life or anything he’s talking about. If this is indeed the case, good thing his autobiography doesn’t stretch past several pages and will take us less than ten minutes to read.

8 - There’s not period at the end of John-John’s last sentence, implying a kind of “to be continued.” After all, his life is not over yet.

9 - Although Goodreads member Dimi gives this John Barth short-story one star (obviously Barth’s meta-fictional slice of life was not to Demi’s taste - slice-of-life being her favorite kind of reading), I think this short John Barth is clearly five stars and well worth it, an excellent way to test your taste for the other stories in the collection.

10 - Author and literary critic Maurice Shadbolt speaks of how a good short story contains a “hallucinatory point,” that is, through relatively few words, the story captures much of the past and future compressed into the present. I can assure you, John Barth has one hall of a "hallucinatory point" in this stroke of postmodern mastery.

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