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Posts tagged with novel.
“At times I am not just nervous about this work but frightened, and think I am going through a crisis, one that could be called existential. Then I realized the problem is much simpler—I have had no breakfast and too much coffee, and my nerves are raw, so tender that I am almost unbearably disturbed to look out the window and see a truck carrying one car on its back and pulling another behind it.
Lydia Davis, The End of the Story
But at other times I am really confused and uncomfortable. For instance, I am trying to separate out a few pages to add to the novel and I want to put them together in one box, but I’m not sure how to label the box. I would like to write on it MATERIAL READY TO BE USED, but if I do that it may bring me bad luck, because the material may not really be “ready.” I thought of adding parentheses and writing MATERIAL (READY) TO BE USED, but the word “ready” was still too strong despite the parentheses. I thought of throwing in a question mark so that it read MATERIAL (READY?) TO BE USED but the question mark immediately introduced more doubt than I could stand. The best possibility may be MATERIAL—TO BE USED, which does not go so far as to say that it is ready but only that in some form it will be used, though it does not have to be used, even if it is good enough to use.”
“In the last phase of my research fireflies were disappearing. Bats were flying around confused in the middle of the day, colliding with each other, falling into little heaps. Bees were disappearing, maybe because of cell phone radiation, maybe because of perfume, maybe because of candy. It was the deadliest day since the invasion began. Unmanned drones made sorrowful noise overhead. It was 1933. The cities were polluted with light, the world warming. The seas were rising. The seas were closing over future readers.”Ben Lerner, Leaving the Atocha Station
“If I was a poet, I had become one because poetry, more intensely than any other practice, could not evade its anachronism and marginality and so constituted a kind of acknowledgment of my own preposterousness, admitting my bad faith in good faith, so to speak.”Ben Lerner, Leaving the Atocha Station
“…if art is anything, then it is, to me, that which is created in the attempted absence of illusions, that which doesn’t instruct because its creator while creating it doesn’t know what’s good or bad, only that he/she wants to convey something.”Tao Lin, “Does the Novel Have a Future? The Answer Is In This Essay!”
“How can you tell a story that is about nothing? Sam Pink’s Person, the Bizarro equivalent of Albert Camus’ The Stranger (as if The Stranger wasn’t already strange enough), does just that. Person is written in the first person, and it’s about a person, living in Chicago. That’s it — or at least, that’s about as much as we can say about it. Take this sentence though: “I live in Chicago and I don’t get along with a lot of people and the reasons are always new and wonderful.” It’s poetry that reads like a book — or maybe vice versa. This is existentialist Bizarro Literature at its finest.”Flavorwire re Person by Sam Pink
“Although each human’s world of noumenon is unique and private–direct access by others is impossible–the world of noumenon is theorized, or hoped, it seems, by most religions and philosophies, to be actually a oneness within which we become isolated when we take on physical form and enter concrete reality, which, like a virtual world, is a shared space in which we can communicate our worlds of noumenon with others, if we want to and at our leisure, until we return to the oneness upon death. It’s unknown why we don’t exist only in the world of noumenon but are forced to endure, or perhaps gifted–though vaguely, almost mischievously–an amount of time, between birth and death, in concrete reality.”