another old post intimately related
“A way of connecting, on relatively safe middle ground, with another human being”
“that ‘neutral middle ground on which to make a deep connection with another human being’… was what fiction was for. ‘A way out of loneliness’…”
Jonathan Franzen, on David Foster Wallace
“If the novel were able ‘to give the reader, who like all of us is sort of marooned in her own skull, to give her imaginative access to other selves,’ it opens the potential that she might, as a result, feel ‘less alone inside’”
Kathleen Fitzpatrick, on David Foster Wallace
My son and I arguing about the nature of things – is there anything we can agree on? mutually believe? are we similar? – in what began as an attempt (on my part) to soothe obvious hurt and confusion (on his part). He kept pointing to (referencing) his mirror, his bedside table, in…
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Yes. And. But. No. Art as melting impossible boundaries without destroying dangerous boundaries ( my fingers wrote blunderies). Doomed to glory and failure. Sad creatures who cannot just melt….we are. Perhaps or never not.
blunderies and boundaries and the attempts to pass through them. Yes. Thanks Simon. Try as we might to melt.
Tis a most metaphysical thing. No wonder we brain squirm.