Notes on D'Agata and Shonagon

Before I get into the essays I just want to apologize for my late, disheveled writing here. In an effort to keep up with the class I'm posting some quick comments that are a bit all over the place. I hope they make sense!

I don't even quite know where to begin on the D'Agata essay on Henry Darger, which was thrilling and intimate and unbelievable all at once. One lasting thought I have though surrounds the idea of collage, which is woven through the piece in a way that teaches me how I am supposed to read it. When D'Agata reminds us that "collage is the shortest route between two points" he epitomizes both the gesture of this piece and the gesture of Darger's body of work, pointing out that the form and style of the essay mimics its content. But what blows my mind is that in this section he simultaneously implies that collage, which is essentially a medium that's dependent entirely on leaps, is the most instinctive art form--more instinctive than narrative or linearity or anything else. I can't quite wrap my head around why that idea is so vital and resonates so strongly with me.

Another thing that this piece makes me wonder about is the purpose of art describing art--particularly literature describing literature. It becomes about the writer here--can this piece be less about Darger than about the person writing it? Is it fair to write about Darger and imagine him unless you are just revealing something about yourself in the process? Late in the essay D'Agata makes an apology--he mentions his failed attempt to make his essay like Darger's room--as though walking into an essay could be like walking into a room. He takes that back and calls it a stanza. So essay becomes room becomes stanza becomes poem.

I'm left with the sense that by relying so heavily on collage, D'Agata makes us realize that one of its effects is something we've referred to here as destabilization--but more specifically in this case, a real blurring of lines of distinction. When you leap, when you follow that direct line between two distinct points, you are forced to reconsider the boundaries that keep you (whether mentally or physically) in one place, to question their authority. Maybe this is what he means by "surely the heart must break before it begins to feel."



Re: Sei Shonagon--I love The Pillow Book excerpts. I first read them in a class on Zuihitsu, and years ago I taught this form (I had totally forgotten about it!). One thing I find most thrilling about her writing is when she switches suddenly from list to prose. I would be really curious to see what a different translator would do with her work, and how much variation there might be--if it would still have the same feel. I love considering these as lyric essays.

Will hopefully get to the Maso and Barthelme (a FAVORITE!) tomorrow.