Reading Proust, or I suppose most prose, is like riding a bicycle. You need to achieve a certain speed to keep your balance and get anywhere. The words draw tight in the centrifuge wheels of the mind, and the meaning is stratified out, demarcated, and the mind's rider is free to experience the text.
Maybe that's the problem with criticism. It's just too slow.
posted by will keillor @ Wednesday, March 29, 2006
2 Comments:
Unless you can do a track stand at which point, although you don't get anywhere, you do keep your balance.
I just read another Jose Saramago novel (Blindness): a) I noticed again his strange obsession with dogs and b) his prose style pretty much requires you to keep moving because it just keeps moving without many full stops.
a) Yes, criticism is like a track stand, no?
b) Blindness is always related to dogs
c) Spaniel, puppy, well-fed
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