http:/ / www.orphia.eu Julián, a small village boy, is 4 years old and wants to learn to read or write because claims Does it will engineer cloud. It him and his imagination that made me rethink this passage "La folle du logis" the writer Rosa Montero.
"... in the work of novelist there is something even more important that the jingle of words, imagination, the daydreams, these other lives that we fantastic and occult all have. Faulkner said that a novel is "the secret life of a writer's dark twin brother of a man." And Sergio Pitol, (...) adds: "A novelist is a man who hears voices, which equates to a madman."
(...) it I think in reality that unfettered imagination assimilates us to more children than whimsical. I think humans, we all enter into existence without knowing how to distinguish the real from dream to reality, life infant is largely imaginary.
The socialization process, what we call education, or mature, or grow, is precisely to cut the blooms capricious, to close the gates of delirium, amputating our ability to dream awake, and woe to him that will not seal the crack between the two sides as it will probably be considered a poor fool.
The novelist has the privilege of continuing to be a child, it can be a fool to keep in touch with what is formless. "The writer is a being who can never become an adult," says Martin Amis in his fine autobiography experience, and although he must know because he has all the appearance of a Peter Pan a bit faded stubbornly refuses to grow old. .
(Trad: Colo. From "The Queen of the house" R. Montero)
PS: ce billet est pour vous mes amis, blogueurs ou pas, qui vous possédez a brin de folie, a zeste d'enfance, des nuages plein les cheveux.
hhtp: / / www.villard.com
Julian, a village boy, is 4 years old and do not want to learn or read or write because, says clouds will be mechanical. Are he and his imagination that made me remember that passage of the "crazy house" by Rosa Montero.
"... in the profession of novelist there is something even more important than the jingle of words, and imagination, daydreams, those other great and hidden lives we all have. Faulkner said that a novel is the secret life of a writer, the dark twin of a man. "And Sergio Pirol (...) adds:" A novelist is a man who hears voices, which likens him to a madman ".
(...) I think actually that unbridled imagination us like children more than the lunatics. I think we all went in there without knowing clearly distinguish the real from the dream; in fact, a child's life is largely imaginary. The socialization process, which we call education, or mature, or grow, is precisely fanciful blooms to prune, to close the gates of delirium, amputating our ability to daydream, and woe to him who can not seal that fissure to the other side, because it will probably be considered a poor fool.
Well, the novelist has the privilege of remaining a child, it can be crazy, to keep in touch with the report. "The writer is a person that never comes to becoming an adult," says Martin Amis in his beautiful memoir Experience , and he should know very well, because it has all the appearance of a wizened little Peter Pan who refuses to grow old earnestly. "
Extract from "mad house" R. Montero
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