AUTHOR: Maurice Blanchot
READ: November
THOUGHTS: I feel like I probably have to read this book another two or three times to understand it on a level that is satisfying to me. That being said I was into this book, though I felt like it dragged at some points, probably mostly because of my inability to keep my head on while going through the text. I went through the second part in one sitting; it was a large chunk of unseparated text to get through. Blanchot's approach is really interesting to me...it manages to be both very refined, restrained, grounded but also abstract and 'free-floating' or something. On the sentence level he is very clear; the words are very sharp and textured sort of clearly, but once you begin to pile the sentences on top of each other the structure seems to lose its capacity to hold the sentences' coherency. The only other way I could describe it would be to say that you could isolate each sentence in this book, and they would certainly yield clear readings, but once grouped together into a 'coherent' text the thing starts to break free at the seams, which given Blanchot's aims and ideas re: writing is obviously intentionally done and executed skillfully. I still feel like my experience with this book was like meandering through a daydream that I can now only half remember, even though I finished it only a few hours ago. I would like to read some other Blanchot and then come back to this one. I have definitely not ever read a book quite like it, though Grillet, Bataille, et al. are definitely all in this ilk.
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