Ask anybody you know what they think about post-modernism and they are likely to wince as if a bad smell suddenly assaulted their nostrils. Postmodern art is complex and requires an intense participation on the part of the reader or spectator. It also represents the moment we are living right now, and the spirit of the times we live in is often uncomfortable for many of us.
In his famous 1979 book The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, Jean-François Lyotard said that the most important characteristic of our era (called the postmodern era) is an “incredulity towards metanarratives.” What this means is that we have abandoned the hope that there will be a system of belief that will be capable of explaining everything. There is no single ideology, Lyotard stated, that one can rely upon nowadays to serve as an exhaustive way of understanding the world.
Some of us will agree with this statement, while others are still clinging to religion, Marxism, neo-liberalism, etc. as a single overarching system of explaining how the world works. Those others are precisely the ones who feel uncomfortable around the highly ironic, self-referential and contradictory postmodern art.
If we turn to literature, it can be safely said that some linguistic environments do postmodernism better than others. American writers are notoriously bad with the postmodern. Of course, there are people who enjoy Don DeLillo, Thomas Pynchon, and even Cormack McCarthy. However, compared to the really phenomenal post-modern works created by writers from, say, the Spanish-speaking world, novels by the postmodernists from the US are nothing to write home about. I would probably be able to name only Toni Morrison as an example of a worthwhile postmodernist from the US. Her novel Beloved is a masterpiece that deserves to be read and reread.
For higher quality postmodern writing in English, you can always check out the amazingly talented British writer Zadie Smith whose overall literary production is uneven but interspersed with flashes of pure genius like the 2012 novel NW.
Of course, the best postmodern writing these days comes out of the former British colonies, and Salman Rushdie is the perfect example of a postmodern writer who has created works of unrivaled beauty and poignancy.
In the words of the famous Spanish writer Antonio Muñoz Molina, Spain jumped into the postmodern before fully processing the modern era. This is true, but the leap proved to be highly successful for Spain whose writers do the postmodern amazingly well. Muñoz Molina himself has written a string of outstanding works of fiction, including his chef d’oeuvre A Manuscript of Ashes, which is now available in a translation by the incomparable Edith Grossman.
The writers who are obsessed with the postmodern but who keep producing bizarrely bad postmodern literature belong to the Russian-speaking world. The Silver Age of the Russian literature that gave to the world absolutely stunning in their beauty works of modernist art was cut short by the Stalinist mandate that only works of socialist realism be written and published in the USSR. The fifty years of a forced break between literary generations made the postmodern mentality absolutely alien to the writers who write in Russian and to their readers. Still, the Russian artists keep trying to create postmodern literature because the need to be “just like the West” is profound. The only way out of this dead-end of parroting the Westerners is through searching for one’s own way of relating to the postmodern era.
Ultimately, a profound discomfort with the entirety of the postmodern artistic production reflects a deep-seated discomfort with the reality we are experiencing right now. If there is nothing that you find attractive about this art, then you have got to ask yourself why it is proving so difficult for you to relate to the sensibilities of the only era you are destined to experience personally.