The literary world is abuzz with the posthumous release of Katherine Dunn’s novel,
‘Toad,’ which explores themes of nostalgia and unfulfilled potential through the eyes of its protagonist,
Sally Gunnar.
This poignant narrative emerges six years after Dunn’s death and is drawing comparisons to her acclaimed 1989 work,
‘Geek Love.’
Critics have hailed ‘Toad’ as a subdued yet haunting work, with The Washington Post describing it as
“exhilarating, often disturbing, and as compelling in its way as Dunn’s best-known work.”
The novel, narrated by the aging Sally, reflects on her experiences with students at a private college reminiscent of Reed College,
where Dunn studied in the early 1960s.
‘Toad’ arrived after Dunn’s autobiographical works,
‘Attic’ (1970) and ‘Truck’ (1971), and sheds light on the challenges Dunn faced as a single mother juggling
menial jobs while pursuing her writing aspirations.
For years, Dunn was heartbroken over the rejection of ‘Toad’ by her publisher in the early 1970s, contributing to an extended struggle to find it a home in the literary world.
However, many recent reviews paint a picture of Dunn’s solitude reminiscent of Gunnar’s character, which is not entirely accurate.
In reality, Dunn was deeply embedded in a vibrant, and often chaotic, local arts scene that thrived in Portland,
where she was actively engaged with a community of fellow writers, performers, and visual artists.
Dunn participated in open mic nights at venues such as the Long Goodbye, a bar located at Northwest 12th and Johnson,
where she not only showcased her own work but also formed part of a tough audience that held its performers to high standards.
Local poet Casey Bush recalls Dunn’s intimidating presence; she and fellow poets would heckle newcomers relentlessly,
ensuring that only those with thick skins could endure the scrutiny.
“
Katherine and other poets sat in seats above the stage, and they heckled everybody. They could be really cruel.
They drove them off the stage. But if you could make it through two poems, you were accepted,
” Bush remembered.
The scene was reminiscent of other lively readings held at venues like Earth, a now-closed biker bar, and
Satyricon, an underground rock club renowned for its raw atmosphere.
Dunn was also a founding member of a loose-knit group called The Impossibilists in the late 1970s.
This collective sought to disrupt the status quo through organized events and drew inspiration from the Futurist Manifesto,
published in 1909.
Unlike the pretentious college students critiqued by Gunnar, Dunn and the Impossibilists engaged in a series of performances
that were often playful and disorganized but entirely genuine.
Tom Cassidy, one of the co-founders of the Imps, remarked that the group was never about changing the world
but rather about having fun and pushing creative boundaries without taking themselves too seriously.
Their ethos was characterized by a lack of institutional approval; they weren’t vying for grants or academic recognition.
In fact, some of their best memories include unconventional performances such as marathon readings in clothing stores and spontaneous parades.
The Impossibilists published a series of avant-garde works that included writings by Dunn long before she achieved national fame.
As highlighted by archivist E.J. Carter in a paper published in 2016,
these publications significantly shaped Portland’s cultural identity, with their activities reflecting elements of the historical avant-garde, including
Dadaism and surrealism.
Even as Dunn’s work transitioned to the more structured format of ‘Geek Love,’ her unapologetic voice in ‘Toad’ reflects
the same rawness and authenticity she championed as part of The Impossibilists.
While the group eventually disbanded, their impact continues to resonate, evidenced by the revival of interest in their publications.
Dunn’s intense involvement in Portland’s literary scene is now being celebrated as part of her enduring legacy.
Several of the Impossibilists are still alive and continue to create, while their historical impact is documented in the archives at
the Watzek Library at Lewis & Clark College, where Dunn’s work is preserved.
It was here that Naomi Huffman from FSG Books discovered ‘Toad’ in 2019, leading to its recent publication in November 2022.
The excitement surrounding ‘Toad’ has reignited discussions about Dunn’s monumental contribution to not only literature but also
to the cultural landscape of Portland.
At the launch event held at Powell’s Books on November 1, her voice once again came alive, highlighting both the passages of time
and the significance of her artistic endeavors.
Carter asserts that although the Imps’ publications initially circulated in modest quantities, their influence reached far beyond
their rudimentary origins.
“Their literary activities helped shape Portland’s cultural identity,” he wrote.
As we reflect on Dunn’s work and her contributions to local culture, it becomes clear that her narrative, both within ‘Toad’ and
her life experiences in Portland, inform a broader discussion about art, community, and the unseen struggles of the creative process.
In the years following the Impossibilists’ decline in the 1980s and Dunn’s rise to fame with ‘Geek Love,’
it is tempting to forget the collaborative spirit that defined her early contributions to Portland’s literary underground.
However, their reunion in 2008 and the publication of ‘Impossibilists #100,’ alongside Dunn’s own involvement, serve as a reminder
of the enduring power of creative communities.
As interest in her work surges with the release of ‘Toad,’
Dunn’s legacy continues to bring together voices and stories from Portland’s storied past, flourishing once again in the present.
Against all odds, the publications from the Impossibilists, once thought to be obscure, are now in high demand,
showcasing the fluctuating nature of artistic recognition and the long-lasting impact of those who dare to challenge the norms of their time.
image source from：orartswatch
