martedì 31 dicembre 2013

I'M A PEN. Jean Rhys

“I felt I could ask her anything. I said, ‘Do you ever think of the meaning of what you write?’

“‘No. No.’ She raised a hand. ‘You see, I’m a pen. I’m nothing but a pen.’

“‘And do you imagine yourself in someone’s hand?’

“Tears came to her eyes. ‘Of course. Of course. It’s only then that I know I’m writing well. It’s only then that I know my writing is true. Not really true, not as fact. But true as writing. That’s what I know the Bible is true. I know it’s a translation of a translation of a translation, thousands of years old, but the writing is true, it reads true. Oh to be able to write like that! But you can’t do it. It’s not up to you. You’re picked up like a pen, and when you’re used up you’re thrown away, ruthlessly, and someone else is picked up. You can be sure of that: someone else will be picked up.’”

—David Plante, from “Jean Rhys: A Remembrance.”




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