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Jacques Lacan

This tag is associated with 4 posts

THE PRINTATOR

On Philippe Sollers’s The Park* And like all who know how to write, he let the scene duplicate, repeat, and betray itself within the scene. [Jacques Derrida on Sigmund Freud, Writing & Difference]   The surface of Philippe Sollers’s The Park (published 1961 under the French title Le Parc and translated into English in 1968 … Continue reading

QUANTUM OF SOLLERS – Part Two

“THE LANGUAGE OF THE TEXT IS A BASE OVER WHICH SOMETHING SLIDES” On the author of H (1973), forthcoming in translation with Equus Press   David Hayman was correct when guessing, in 1978, that “H is not a passing phase in Sollers’ development” since “his current work-in-progress, Paradis, points toward more radical departures in post-Wake … Continue reading

QUANTUM OF SOLLERS – Part One

“A SUBJECT I WOULD CALL ILLIMITABLE, NUMBERLESS” On the author of H (1973), forthcoming in translation with Equus Press. Photo: Philippe Sollers in Prague, 1997. It is difficult to overstate Philippe Sollers’ (*1936) importance for post-War literary experimentalism, or that of Tel Quel, a journal Sollers co-founded, edited and used as his mouthpiece for the … Continue reading

REALISM’S LAST WORD

*Excerpt from THE ORGAN-GRINDER’S MONKEY: CULTURE AFTER THE AVANT-GARDE, by Louis Armand (Prague: Litteraria Pragensia, 1013). Photo: Philippe Sollers in Shanghai, 1974 (by Julia Kristeva).   “From two recent novels, a story emerges about the future for the Anglophone novel.” So begins an article by Zadie Smith for the New York Review of Books, November … Continue reading

"Modernity today is not in the hands of the poets, but in the hands of the cops" // Louis Aragon
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" // A.N. Whitehead

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"Poetism is the crown of life; Constructivism is its basis" // Karel Teige

Goodreads

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for?…we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us” // Franz Kafka, letter to Oskar Pollack, 27 January 1904
April 2020
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