“A madman's ravings are absurd in relation to the situation in which he finds himself, but not in relation to his madness.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

Although the word “absurdity” is tossed about left and right by the men and women in this Donald Barthelme ten-page blistering popper, the concept of absurdity as delineated by French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre doesn’t come close to describing events unfolding like a wild sixties psychedelic light show. With his A Shower of Gold, the American author inflates Jean-Paul Sartre’s existential themes into cartoonish impossibilities, as if we're reading an issue of Mad magazines or feasting our eyes on a string of outlandish R. Crumb illustrations.

Main character Peterson is an American everyman, an all-around Mr. Nice Guy who needs money to feed his kitten and drink his beer, the kind of guy who usually finds himself working in a suburban auto parts outlet or supermarket, certainly not a sculptor in a downtown Manhattan loft creating art in the spirit of Robert Rauschenberg or Donald Judd. Thus, with this highly improbable combination presented right at the outset, we are furnished with a taste of the over-the-top tomfoolery and literary playfulness that runs throughout, nonstop, from first to last sentence.

For starters, in his desperate poverty-stricken need for money, sculptor Peterson resorts to answering an ad in the paper where a TV show seeks out contestants having strong opinions or experiences of an unusual flavor. The questions posed by the interviewer, Miss Arbor, and Peterson’s replies are, again, the stuff out of those zany issues of magazines such as Mad or Cracked from the early sixties, the time of the story’s publication.

Strong opinions? Peterson has a bunch: how brain chemistry influences the way mice learn; how schizophrenics have weird fingerprints; how a dreamer moves his eyes while dreaming. Wow! Now that’s interesting! Peterson admits it’s all in the World Almanac. Miss Arbor ups the ante, asking questions with echoes from the following French existential novels I’ve listed: Does he feel de trop (The Stranger by Albert Camus); is there nausea (Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre); is he interested in themes like absurdity or dread or finitude (The Royal Way by André Malraux). Sartre's sombre philosophy and the tawdriness of an upbeat, market-driven American TV show - quite the combination. Signature Donald Barthelme storytelling bounce.

This Crack cartoon moves to the next set of frames: Paying a visit to his art dealer Jean-Claude at his gallery, Peterson announces he’s going to be on TV. Jean-Claude doesn’t like this development at all, considering it nothing less than an infamy. But meanwhile he tells the sculptor none of his work is on display - doesn’t matter anyway since nowadays nobody is buying art; rather, they are all out cruising on the open seas in their new Chris-Crafts.

But, Jean-Claude continues, Peterson's art could be on display and actually sell if the sculptor would agree to having his large work sawed in two, right down the middle. Peterson reminds his dealer that it is a work of art, not fit material to be sawed in half. Ha! How about that – buried under a mountain of American commercialized detritus, squeezed in on either side by the urge to make a quick buck, even an everyday nice-guy like Peterson can stand up for the integrity of an artist’s art and an artist’s vision. Now that might even quality for an authentic connection with Sartre and his existentialism!

Back at his loft, our man of character and integrity polishes off a beer and commences wielding together his new sculpture, Season’s Greetings, a combination of a former telephone switchboard and three auto radiators (nice American touch – all three autos are identified by manufacturer’s name and model). But the door bursts open and the President of the United States rushes in with a sledge-hammer and proceeds to smash to pieces the work-in-progress.

Although the story was published after Lyndon Johnson took over from John F. Kennedy, the younger New Englander makes more sense as the sledge-hammer smasher since he actually cared about the state of the arts in the United States. Be that as it may, Peterson can do nothing to halt the wreckage since twelve (yes, twelve!) secret service men are holding him down in a paralyzing grip. And those French intellectuals like Jean-Paul Sartre thought they had problems during the war years with the occupying army interfering with their art!

The bizarre, occasionally silly, sequence of events moves apace. Peterson discusses with his barber the bleaker questions of existence posed by Friedrich Nietzsche, a foreign-looking cat-piano player shows up at the artist’s loft playing his cat-piano (an assortment of shrikes), three girls from California walk in, raid the refrigerator, and insist on staying, since, after all, it is a big loft and they can’t afford a New York City apartment.

Thereupon we arrive at the story’s grand finale - showtime, where Peterson is one of three contestants on primetime TV’s one and only Who Am I. Overblown and out-of-sight absurdity, anyone? No, wait, I said absurdity doesn’t do this story justice. How about farcical or ludicrous or surreal poppycock? Take your choice or come up with your own words, but please, to better finalize your decision, treat yourself to how Donald Barthelme pokes a long needle at an American culture that thinks it can grasp the deeper truths of a penetrating European philosophy by simply spouting highfalutin terms and catchphrases.

Link to A Shower of Gold by Donald Barthelme: http://jessamyn.com/barth/gold.html
A Shower of Gold is also part of the author's book, Sixty Stories.


Listen to Donald Barthelme read A Shower of Gold: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aG1LyaYhkbA