H ay a classic way to promote reading and encourage literature, and is the argument that reading opens eyes to new worlds, cultures, feelings and ideas. Many literary works do so, but I was surprised by the large number of stories related only to the same literature. It seems that the writers live in a peculiar world that is self, and that somehow is able to grow from the inside adento, not even crack the outer shell. The international literature is one of the greatest achievements of modern literature, and do not stop writing novels about novels, or simply writing letters.
The nineties of the last century have been full of such self-referential pieces of literature, full of nods to the lovers of literature, in what may be called postmodernism literary argument. For many authors, describing the nature of their relationship with literature is literary enough to form a body of his own life, a recreation of the narrative within the narrative. Is not new or original, but I think of all this we can reflect on what we expect from contemporary writers. What do we expect them to tell us? Is it possible to bring something to the literature in the long run? Not everything has been said already?
The answer is indeed yes and no. Yes everything has been said already, and yet everything has been said, literature is the river of Parmenides. It's the same river, but we can not bathe in it twice, because carrying water is different, and the molecules of H2O will not return to wet our skin. The river flows downhill, and time goes into the future, so that no book can comment as well if it was written some time later. Or, if you ask me, if readers are different. Because although the literature is created by the writers, are the readers who make it up.
I bring these comments because I just read two books related by such references, what we might call cross Literature. The first, Bartleby & Co. by Enrique Vila-Matas, is a pure example of the above. Bartleby is the famous tale character Melville, who prefers to stop writing. This is a writer, not a writer, but Vila-Matas is in his book authors have stopped writing, who have taken the decision to leave his literary work, often leave behind after masterpieces the literature. The book, narrated in first person, tells of a man obsessed by these writers in the denial, no. Dozens and dozens of writers who decided, for various reasons, do not write What could be more self-referential that this book? Almost paradoxically, Vila-Matas came to recognize that after publishing this novel, was about to fall into a denial of his own work, stop writing. This book, which I call costs novels, essays or anything else, is a creditable reflection on the origin of the literary fact. Does a novel have no end? What principle? In the same way a writer can have no beginning and no end.
Then, after finishing reading the book of Vila-Matas, I started to phone calls, by Roberto Bolaño. I know they are not actual books, but they are outstanding work that needed comment. The stories in the book is uneven, as is usual in such collections, but Bolaño brings back one of their stories to a character inspired by Vila-Matas, who dedicates the story. Bolaño also uses his own life as a main argument of many of these stories, but I fear that exaggerates in regard to sexual activity. A small license, without doubt, or perhaps corroding envy me, I dunno. In calls , Bolaño is the author and protagonist, and even taught us how to compete successfully in various literary competitions reaching English territory, in a masterful narrative gift as only Bob can write.
If Bolaño quoted Vila-Matas and even imagines engaged in publishing a novel that never comes to light (do not know if it's a joke or a punishment imposed Vila-Matas), the case is that a little thought, also suspect that there are references to Bartleby Bolaño. Both authors perform a type of literature based on the literary event in his personal biography, in their opinions, building novels are rather tests or digressions, with little linear plot but full of liveliness and restlessness. The same Vila-Matas said on Bolaño : a writer who reminds him of himself.
both books are, far from obvious or disposable. Glad that after thousands of years of literature, has writers who remind us that the word river washes us anew each day. Enjoy.
The nineties of the last century have been full of such self-referential pieces of literature, full of nods to the lovers of literature, in what may be called postmodernism literary argument. For many authors, describing the nature of their relationship with literature is literary enough to form a body of his own life, a recreation of the narrative within the narrative. Is not new or original, but I think of all this we can reflect on what we expect from contemporary writers. What do we expect them to tell us? Is it possible to bring something to the literature in the long run? Not everything has been said already?
The answer is indeed yes and no. Yes everything has been said already, and yet everything has been said, literature is the river of Parmenides. It's the same river, but we can not bathe in it twice, because carrying water is different, and the molecules of H2O will not return to wet our skin. The river flows downhill, and time goes into the future, so that no book can comment as well if it was written some time later. Or, if you ask me, if readers are different. Because although the literature is created by the writers, are the readers who make it up.
I bring these comments because I just read two books related by such references, what we might call cross Literature. The first, Bartleby & Co. by Enrique Vila-Matas, is a pure example of the above. Bartleby is the famous tale character Melville, who prefers to stop writing. This is a writer, not a writer, but Vila-Matas is in his book authors have stopped writing, who have taken the decision to leave his literary work, often leave behind after masterpieces the literature. The book, narrated in first person, tells of a man obsessed by these writers in the denial, no. Dozens and dozens of writers who decided, for various reasons, do not write What could be more self-referential that this book? Almost paradoxically, Vila-Matas came to recognize that after publishing this novel, was about to fall into a denial of his own work, stop writing. This book, which I call costs novels, essays or anything else, is a creditable reflection on the origin of the literary fact. Does a novel have no end? What principle? In the same way a writer can have no beginning and no end.
Then, after finishing reading the book of Vila-Matas, I started to phone calls, by Roberto Bolaño. I know they are not actual books, but they are outstanding work that needed comment. The stories in the book is uneven, as is usual in such collections, but Bolaño brings back one of their stories to a character inspired by Vila-Matas, who dedicates the story. Bolaño also uses his own life as a main argument of many of these stories, but I fear that exaggerates in regard to sexual activity. A small license, without doubt, or perhaps corroding envy me, I dunno. In calls , Bolaño is the author and protagonist, and even taught us how to compete successfully in various literary competitions reaching English territory, in a masterful narrative gift as only Bob can write.
If Bolaño quoted Vila-Matas and even imagines engaged in publishing a novel that never comes to light (do not know if it's a joke or a punishment imposed Vila-Matas), the case is that a little thought, also suspect that there are references to Bartleby Bolaño. Both authors perform a type of literature based on the literary event in his personal biography, in their opinions, building novels are rather tests or digressions, with little linear plot but full of liveliness and restlessness. The same Vila-Matas said on Bolaño : a writer who reminds him of himself.
both books are, far from obvious or disposable. Glad that after thousands of years of literature, has writers who remind us that the word river washes us anew each day. Enjoy.
