O’Brien told us in the very first pages that this book would be like no other. That it would be multi-layered with many beginnings and endings. That its characters would be drawn from a well of personalities already established. That the only way to write a new book of fiction is to take the knowns, shake them up in a bag, and pull out plot, action, story, theme, character and setting at random.
Here he tells us (and he does tend to tell us a lot–exactly how the novel is written, exactly what is happening so we don’t get lost) the setup of the innermost (?) story, one being written by the character in a story written by the character in a story written by the character in his story:
Most of them are characters used in other books, chiefly the works of another great writer called Tracy. There is a cowboy in Room 13 and Mr. McCool, a hero of old Ireland, is on the floor above. The cellar is full of leprechauns.
(…) Trelles, I answered steadily, is writing a book on sin and the wages attaching thereto. He is a philosopher and a moralist. He is appalled by the spate of sexual and other crimes recorded in recent times in the newspapers–particularly in those published on Saturday night.
Nobody will read the like of that, said Brinsley.
Yes they will, I answered. Trellis wants his salutary book to be read by all. He realizes that purely a moralizing tract would not reach the public. Therefore he is putting plenty of smut into his book. There will be no less than seven indecent assaults on young girls and any amount of bad language. There will be whisky and porter for further orders. (p. 47)
Now what, do you suppose, is O’Brien saying about the reader?
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology