It is strange to be completely unaware of one hundred percent of contemporary literary production and to notice that no writer from any country has ever behaved like this. To write, to make writing the center of one’s existence, and never have opened a novel by a living author! Not knowing names, titles, everything! And carry on as if everything were normal… Whether or not this is necessary is an idle question, but it is certainly an attitude that reinforces the feeling of total isolation.
Category: Notes
Of All the Languages in the World…
Of all the languages in the world, English seems to be the most deceptive, since it is learned with an ease that completely falsifies its real dimension. The tourist who has learned to order a coffee at the airport believes he has mastered it; but if, by chance, he tries to read a novel by Dickens, or a poem by Milton, Byron or Chaucer, he realizes in a few lines that he knows nothing about the language he has learned. And the curious thing is that, syntactically, English is always the same: the structure of the periods never complicates understanding too much. But literary English is a dungeon into which the foreigner always enters without a flashlight. The words, the infinite expressions, obscure and untranslatable, are like hauntings. It takes a lot of courage to understand it and face it as a writer.
Some Writer Once Made the Wise Recommendation…
Some writer once made the wise recommendation: one work at a time. And there is no doubt that concentrating the mind on a single piece of work can only speed it up, intensify it and be of great benefit to creation. But is it possible to stick to this rule? Perhaps with prose. With poetry, however, the situation changes, and when the planned verses exceed a few hundred, the mind seems to beg for an escape valve into which it can pour lines and lines and experience the relief of fluidity. Without this valve, soon the unproductivity, added to the ideas that accumulate in a closed deposit, begin to torture. For the poet, practicing prose seems psychologically essential.
The Cultural Environment in Russia…
The cultural environment in Russia in the mid-19th century seems fantastic. Not only because of the vigor, the effervescence of the debates, the practical consequences of the ideas in circulation, the active censorship, the controversies, the political events… but it is astonishing, first of all, the calibre of the authors who were publishing in the press—a press that was still home to much, much literature, and boasted a plethora that Russia had never produced and will never produce;—then, the relevance of what was being discussed, the historical importance of the discussions. The enthusiasm with which all this took place proved to be entirely justified, and words fail to describe the contrast with what is happening in the press today. It is didactic, however, to note the explosive results that followed such vigor.