One has just been sent out as a biblical dove, has found nothing green, and slips back
into the darkness of the ark -- Kafka

Sunday, May 15, 2011

From Point C to Point B

Left Sentimental Education (I sometimes jump back and forth between countries) for Breyten Breytenbach's Dog Heart. From Point C to Point B: From Coetzee to Breytenbach. The surprise rain (who would've thought) kept me in the coffee shop reading longer than usual, but I've still only taken a small bite: I got to page 25. Would I have thought "painterly composition" (this is memoir, not his poetry) if I hadn't known already that he was also a painter? Hard to say.

From the opening section: BEGINNING, FOR THE READER:

To cut a long story short: I am dead.
   Do you think I'm joking? Am I not lurking behind these rustling words--perhaps a little thicker around the waist, a little darker in the mind? Am I not the writer sitting in the dappled light of the pepper tree, pursing my lips and closing my eyes to the glare of a yellow fire baking the valley?
   My mind fumbles for a buried reference; I'm on the verge of remembering the odour of ancient clods. Can one touch the moon?
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