W. Kandinsky: "There are no 'musts' in art." T.S. Eliot: "There is no freedom in art." Dostoievski character, after the ancient Middle East epigram: "Everything is permitted."
(R-rated weblog. Since one has been advised there is no Literature anymore, or even literature, only writing, one proceeds on the premise that this weblog qualifies as not-meaningless, since it is, or appears to be, a form of "writing." Image: Banksy.)
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Cathedral / R. Carver
This collection of stories is a series of lead weights resting on the floor of a sea of negativity, constructed according to the cardinal principle of literary minimalism: "Always leave out the primary event the reader needs to know about," which is gratifying to the mind that has given up on the concept of closure, of human happiness, of teaching by delight. He's like a Hemingway who never picked up a rifle, who played with toy soldiers instead of enduring combat, morose, despairing, grim to the last breath.