Blood and Guts in High School. Кэти Акер

years she spent with Peter Gordon. She describes their E. 5th Street apartment—“usually no hot water or heat, costs two hundred dollars a month”—and their neighborhood—“All of the buildings are either burnt down, half-burnt down, or falling down.” She writes about her first cancer scare—a mass that fortunately turned out to be benign, but prompted their brief legal marriage in February 1978. Most likely, the disturbance of their final separation prompted Acker to arrange this collection of outtakes and unpublished writings into a disjunctive but emotionally continuous work. But, more importantly, the novel chronicles and melds the writing process she’d begun with Childlike Life. During those five years, she’d written two more serial novels—The Adult Life of Toulouse Lautrec (1975) and I Dreamt I Was A Nymphomaniac: Imagining (1975)—as well as two, book-length experiments in genre-ridden narrative, Rip-Off Red (1973) and Kathy Goes to Haiti (1978). As she told Barry Alpert in a 1976 interview, “I never found that simple collage was an answer, because it has to go through me to mean anything.”

      By the time she composed the Blood and Guts manuscript in 1979, Acker had already achieved considerable recognition and notoriety in the New York art world and beyond. She’d become the chamber novelist of downtown New York, reporting on sexual misadventures with real-life art world protagonists who were, when not named outright, recognizable to anyone who knew the cast of characters. Her compositional strategies were grounded in the phenomenological experiments of the old-guard minimalist and conceptual artists, but the content of her work—extreme pornography, diatribe, parody, gossip, politics, and trash—reflected the aesthetic of her East Village peers. Her works circulated feverishly in self-published or small-press editions throughout the US and Canada, and were admired by avant-garde insiders in London, Paris, and beyond.

      Fame, itself, figures as a character in Blood and Guts. As Janey tells Bill, her friend and confidant, “I am Johnny. I’m beginning to have some fame, success, now women want to fuck me … I want everything. I want to go out in the world as far as I can go.” And later, as she tells her fellow slave Sahih, while imprisoned in a compound in Alexandria, “I have to work as hard as possible so I can get enough fame then money to get away from here so I can become alive.”

      This time, she sought a larger publisher. The Blood and Guts manuscript was read, and tentatively scheduled for publication three times between 1979 and 1981: first by Urizen Books, then by Stonehill Communications, and finally by the French publisher Christian Bourgois’s 10/18 editions. Each contract fell apart when Acker feuded with her editors. Rather than return to her small-press comfort zone, she decided to hang on. Mainstream commercial publication seemed just a heartbeat away. Finally, in 1982, Blood and Guts was accepted by Picador, to appear in her explosive January 1984 London debut volume. Grove Press published Blood and Guts almost concurrently that year. When editor Fred Jordan returned to Grove after a hiatus of five years, he found a stack of Acker’s complete works in the slush pile on his boss, Barney Rosset’s, desk. He found them “interesting, unusual, in many ways remarkable.” Steeped in Grove’s avant-garde lineage, her writings reflected the abrasive Lower East Side early-80s zeitgeist. He took them all. Blood and Guts was Acker’s “breakthrough” novel only in a marketing sense. The work itself developed over time.

      Picador’s first print run of Blood and Guts in High School sold out within three weeks of its January 1984 publication. In an hour-long ITVS South Bank Show documentary devoted to Acker’s work, arts broadcaster Melvyn Bragg announced her as the leader of a pack of a hard-edged, “tough, fashionable, self-conscious group, now at the top of the New York art world.” In their rush to publish and promote the book, Grove and Picador got the ending mixed up, reversing the last two sections. As she recalled in an interview with Semiotext(e) editor Sylvère Lotringer, “They got the last two chapters in the wrong order. No one noticed! I told them they’re in the wrong order and they said, Have a glass of champagne [laughs].” The placement of these sections, “The Journey” and “The World,” is finally corrected here.

      “TEACH ME A NEW LANGUAGE, DIMWIT. A LANGUAGE THAT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME,” Acker writes in Blood and Guts. And: “We all live in a prison. Most of us don’t know we live in prison.” Thirty-three years after its first publication, Blood and Guts speaks powerfully to us as a literary work, and as a reminder that the genre known as “autofiction” was not a post-internet invention. Acker’s wildly inventive, direct, deceptively spontaneous writing in Blood and Guts loops back to the poetry of Catullus and Propertius, the novels of French modernists Bataille and Laure, and dozens of other predecessors. Acker’s dexterous orchestration of her subjectivity, occurring in real time and informed by her voracious engagement with culture, is animated in Blood and Guts by her search for power. Janey Smith wants power, and she wants to know how power works systemically in the larger world. Today, this seems like an impossible quest. But, from her slum apartment in the East Village in 1978, lovelorn dreamer and sex maniac Janey Smith hallucinates a future that feels a great deal like the one we’re living now.

      —Chris Kraus

       Bovey, MN; 2017