Much as I admire Sontag, and much as I would like to rate THE VOLCANO LOVER with five stars, second thoughts intervene. I would describe those reservations by recalling what was once said about Beethoven's Ninth Symphony: namely, that it contains both his best and his worst efforts. One would second the observations of those reviewers who, in various ways, have suggested that this work embraces a real cornucopia of stylistic devices; yet in the end, and after more than one rereading, I find artifice sometimes taking precedence over art. In particular, the character of Effrosina Pumo seems drawn with strokes that fail to resolve, and leaves me wondering if she was intended to serve as caricature or archetype--perhaps as Sontag herself would question certain feminist efforts. Still, there is much to be savored in THE VOLCANO LOVER, and self-appointed rival Camille Paglia's dismissal of it as "pedestrian" strikes this reviewer as a spitefully inadvertent confession of envy--to say little of her quip being an egotistically summary and platitudinous facsimile of criticism.
If a bit sententious at times, Sontag's teeming insights into human nature, as inspired by her reflections on the many historical personnages woven into the plot, are admirably, almost frighteningly keen. Dialogue, when used, displays a virtuosically wide range of stylistic mastery. Perhaps this novel is a necessary step in the process of learning to integrate a large number of ideas and methods into a seamless and dramatically balanced whole, as Mozart is sometimes credited with accomplishing. (Interestingly, Mozart enters into both form and content of the plot, even if Sontag once reduced "much of Mozart" to "camp".) Perhaps we should look forward to Sontag's masterpiece, while thanking her for taking the artistic risks necessary to prepare for it.