There are three main differences between Solzhenitsyn and the rest of those who defend a cause through literature, or make literature to defend a cause. The first is that Solzhenitsyn, before attacking the regime he attacks, experienced it, that is, suffered it with eight years in jail and seeing countless friends, acquaintances and family members imprisoned, persecuted and shot. The second difference derives from the first: in honor of himself and those he lost, his cause is justified; this means that his literature is a response to his personal experience, in other words, his literary motivation is the most authentic there can be. Finally, this is simply it: his cause is noble, and this adjective needs no explanation. On the other hand, what do we find in the majority of those who make ideological literature? We do not need to spend many words: we find neither nobility nor knowledge of the cause; we find, in short, a fetish.
Tag: literature
When, Four Years Ago…
When, four years ago, I felt I was ready to write, or rather, I felt it was no longer possible to delay starting to work, I set myself a deadline and a number of works that would serve as a preamble to what I intended to do. The aim was to disperse predefined themes by genre and style, exposing problems rather than presenting solutions. This year, the deadline comes to an end, and I reach it with the certainty that what has been done, whether better or worse than planned, is done and is sufficient. Now it is time to change both the pace and the direction.
Another Little Volume…
Finally, another little volume written, ready for revision. This, it seems, was the most painful of them all; in prose, it was undoubtedly the one that came out more slowly, less spontaneously and more compelled, and thus another offspring of this powerful obligation. Many things come to mind now that, after four years of uninterrupted work, the lines, although not excessively abundant, although fewer than planned, are already something. Something that represents the realization of a good hundreds of hours of work, concentrated effort and inner struggle. The words do not seem more flexible than before; on the contrary, they seem heavier, as if time had only accentuated the responsibility in choosing them. The feeling is not one of relief or satisfaction with the work completed; there is simply the certainty that it is necessary to carry on.
The Best Solution to Overcome…
Undoubtedly, the best solution to overcome the very painful work of revision is that of Fernando Pessoa: never revise anything, and never set the task of giving a definitive form to what one has written. So obvious, so evident… and yet it seems the most foolish of decisions. If every profession has its hardships, some of which can only be endured in the long term by those who have the vocation to exercise it, perhaps none is more frequent for the writer than to come across a bad piece of work. Unlike other professions, in which the results and effectiveness of the work are easily measurable, and therefore it is easier to perceive an evolution in technique and the positive effects of experience, the work of the writer seems always fated to be seen as unsatisfactory by his own lenses, something that becomes violently evident in the revision process. Revising long texts, one learns that the most elementary errors in writing are invincible because, among other various reasons, attention never remains constant over a long period. And so, for his psychological satisfaction, it is best for the writer never to revise; otherwise, he will be forced to regularly take very hard lessons.