‘How do I read this? How to read this now? How do you read this?’ (149). Carefully. Skin alert, horsing around, analysand/reader and analyst/reader jamming as ‘lady’ (158). ‘I read it over and over’ (149). ‘Memory is not a stable unit’ (47).
The bearded tsar of the show
Grateful writing, collective thinking, trauma as a beingness of the body, as patterns of people doing life together. Always self-questioning, tentatively etching the ‘structures of feeling’ (97). Readers also called to be ill-at-ease, opening to the the ‘soul ulcer screaming out’ (70).
Camping out with lyrical honesty is a queer trip and the heart-grab begins from the first. Never a ‘sure way of sourcing the true thing in either the fullness or the voids’ (1). Page after page dog-eared. Not a single false note.
