The first thing you have to understand is that The Argonauts probably was not written for a reader like you. The second thing, of course, is that this not a bad thing to have to admit. Not to be judgmental or make unreasonable assumptions, but chances are if you are the person for whom Maggie Nelson did write The Argonauts then you are probably not familiarizing yourself with its content in any way other than reading first-hand. Of course, it is possible that having read it, a reader will seek out information about what it all means on educational assistance websites since that is effectively the real intended purpose of what used to be called the “information superhighway” without irony.
How can you know for sure whether you are the type of person for whom The Argonauts was written? Well, there is one very effective checkpoint. Almost right at the start of the book, the narrator recalls a moment that has been played out in many books and movies to the point of becoming something of a cliché. It is that moment during intimacy when one partner is the first to blurt out impulsively to the other a declaration of love. In all the times it has been portrayed on screen or written into fiction (which The Argonauts is not), it is almost as a sure bet the response afterward by the person who blurted is that which she describes:
“A day or two after my love pronouncement, now feral with vulnerability, I sent you the passage from Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes in which Barthes describes how the subject who utters the phrase `I love you’ is like `the Argonaut renewing his ship during its voyage without changing its name.’”
Typical, common, everyday sort of people do not things like this. In fact, the only people who would ever think of doing this are probably those who pursued an English degree in college since that it is one of the few places one initially is introduced to and comes to respect and admire the works and theories of Barthes. But among those who admire Barthes, the percentage is probably microscopic relative to those who would follow-up that dreaded moment of uncertainty following an unplanned declaration of love by sending their partner a quote from the author as a means of soothing the anxiety.
The Argonauts is ostensibly a person memoir of author Maggie Nelson, but she is a writer for whom the description genre-bending is almost now a requirement when trying to classify her texts. The thing is, however, that there is a huge difference between bending a detective story around a science fiction or bending the rules of 19th century love affair to introduce flesh-eating zombies. Genre-bending is fine and dandy within the context of fiction, but is problematic when applied to non-fiction. In the twisted reality that now makes the phrase “alternative facts” not worthy of immediate derision and rejection, bending the genre of memoir seems much more dangerous or at least tricky than it did in 2015. Because, as the whole word knows, everything that was taken for granted about facts and truth in 2015 would no longer apply a mere two years later.
The structure of the writing, the content of the writing and the approach to combining the two elements for the purpose of telling a story in The Argonauts all contribute to making it much more difficult to recognize as a true story for the average reader than it really needs to be. Yes, the content is unusual and off-kilter and so it makes sense for the form to match content and that certainly works for the type of reader whom the book was written for. But that audience is one that is going to know who Roland Barthes is without having to look it up. Or, for that matter, who Maggie Nelson and Harry Dodge are without pulling up Wikipedia. The Argonauts is certainly deserving of all its awards and critical accolades and high ratings, but that does not mean it is for everybody nor that its inherent problems in failing to fully represent itself for what it is are not worthy of debate. A book need not be for everybody, but it is disingenuous of its fans and admirers to pretend that it is and that they are not members of a certain type of exclusive club.
Ultimately, The Argonauts is exactly the kind of text for which websites like this one best serve the needs of its visitors. There is no shame in a reader admitting that they are not the type of audience a book was written for any more than there is shame for a writer to admit that their book was intended to be read by those of a certain educational level or who come from a specific ethnic background or those who grew up within a sharply defined regional upbringing.
Note: There is another checkpoint much later in the narrative that is also effective in determining if you are a reader for whom the book was written. The author references the wildly popular Schwarzenegger film of the 1980's, The Terminator before going on to observe of it:
"If you want an original relation to the mother/son dyad, you must turn (however sadly!) away from the seduction of messianic fantasy."
If that sentence and The Terminator seem to belong together in the same paragraph, then you may well be the type of person that Nelson is writing for.
