§124 “Reading & writing go on. Not my novel though. And I can only think of all my faults as a novelist & wonder why I do it”
[21.xii.25.b : dimanche / 27 November] Now (it seems) that V.W. & I are out of sync, this is my fault … what can she do about it? timing is (if not everything) of the essence :: or perhaps I could read her words differently. Oh yes ! reading & writing go on !! apace !!! but that’s not all !!!!
A few days ago, I unearthed from a pile of books next to my reading chair in my study the copy of Mysticism by Simon Critchley that I’d picked up on one of our tours to Beacon … it’s a most fascinating book and not at all what you’d think. Critchley dispenses with (dispels) misconceptions of mysticism, but also provides a hint about the production and dissemination of mystical literature. We moderns worship in the cult of the One Author Text, we believe in the pure authorized version, that authentic text and regard variants with contempt … when I say “we” I don’t mean me or you since we (you & I) are the sort of pirate readers who read with knives clenched between our teeth as we swing across to commandeer and bring back the booty. And here we are, back on Pirate Island with our loot, our treasure and we’re cutting it up, reassembling and like Brother Robin, good Sir Robin, we’re going to give it all to the poor. I couldn’t help but think of my little assembly line with the hot little Nova Letter buns popping off :: those maximally heterogeneous texts where anything goes and stuff the Reality Show rules, I don’t want any of those rules.
It’s true, maybe … or : almost certainly I am not a novelist or I’m a bad novelist in the spirit of Simon Critchley being a bad philosopher : we’re bad boys, yessiree ,,, why do we do it? Haven’t you noticed, we’re inventing a high-power, super-strength de-icing solution & we have to produce enough for mass distribution.