"La escritura estaba en todas partes [...]. No se puede escribir sin la fuerza del cuerpo. Para abordar la escritura hay que ser más fuerte que uno mismo, hay que ser más fuerte que lo que se escribe".

Amiga me dijo "este libro fue escrito para vos" y tuvo razón. Encontrar muchas de las emociones que me produce la práctica de escribir, todas estas dichas por alguien más, que, al decir sus palabras ya no le pertenecen, sin duda fue una experiencia desoladora y hermosa en partes iguales. Y no solo escribir, sino también todo lo que implica: la soledad como tópico en el texto de Duras, pero la soledad como eso que nos individualiza; Marguerite se da cuenta de la banalidad de su ser entre el resto, ese gesto benjaminiano/baudelaireano, eso por lo que abogo hace ya un tiempo.

Realmente no me alcanzarían nunca las palabras para explicar lo que la literatura me produce desde que tengo uso de razón. Acaso haya encontrado a una nueva diosa, después de años sin creer en los ejercitadores literarios.

Bu kadına bayılıyorum. Yazar olma yolunda önemli bir temel sağladı benim için yazım tarzını çok benimsiyorum büyük ihtimal en çok ilham alacağım yazarların başında gelecek!

Отново попадение от библиотеката в секция Франция. Винаги ми е любопитно какво вдъхновява, движи и мотивира писателите. Как впрягат тази творческа енергия в текст. Гледната точка на Маргьорит Дюрас ме очарова. Намирам много сходни възгледи по темата за писането между нея и Лейла Слимани. И двете говорят за някакво отстраняване от света, обвиване в самота и пълно отдаване на акта на самото писане.

“Самотата на писането е самота, без която написаното не се случва или се раздробява, омаломощено от търсенето какво да се напише още.”

“Да пиша това бе единственото нещо, което населяваше моя живот и го изпълваше с чародейство. Направих го. Писането никога не ме е напускало.”

“Неизменно се налага раздяла с другите хора около личността, която пише книги. Това е самота. Това е самотата на автора, тази на написаното.”

“Тази самота от първите думи я съхраних. Отнесох я със себе си. Моето писане винаги съм го носила със себе си, където и да отида.”

“Странна работа е един писател. Противоречие, а също и безсмислица. Да пишеш, означава още да не говориш. Означава да мълчиш. Означава да мълчиш безгласно.”

ilk deneme (yazmak) çok iyi, sonrası kötü.

كتاب حميمي جداً وملهم ولطيف تتحدث فيه مارغريت
عن معنى الكتابة بالنسبة لها وعن مشوارها في الكتابة وما صاحبه من مشاعر و ظروف وأماكن... كتاب جيد ولكن الترجمة لم تنصفه

Me gustaron mucho dos cuentos, Escribir y El número puro. Las reflexiones son brutales, sobre todo en Escribir, donde podemos ver mucho de sus procesos, de lo que piensa sobre la soledad, la escritura.
El resto de los relatos, no me encantaron.

Writing by Marguerite Duras seems to be about COVID-19 lockdown. It's about loneliness that can equate to madness, about storing food in a storage room during the war and about silence and the unnoticeable sounds that break the silent and break the absolute loneliness.

The book consists of five essays, each one of which focuses on a moment, an emotion, an action or a place that is important to the author. It is written in the typical Duras style with short and tangible sentences. There is lots of white space between the paragraphs and white space is what you really need during a lockdown to read everything paragraph by paragraph.

In the essay "Writing" Duras explores what it means to write, why she write, how she writes, where she wriites and when she writes. Loneliness and writing are intertwined. There is no writing without loneliness and silence. In the essay she also describes the death of a fly. The death of the fly becomes important because it is described and there is someone who had witnessed the death.

In the essay "The Death of the Young British Pilot" the death of the fly is contrasted to the British pilot's death. The pilot has perhaps been one of the last victims of WWII. He had died on the day WWII ended, while his plane crashed in the trees in Vauville, France. Nobody knows the exact time of his death but there is the grave and there is the old man who visits the grave every year and then he doesn't visit it the year after and ever again. The young pilot embodies the war and the ending of the war.

"Roma" consists of a dialogue between two people in a hotel in Rome. The conversation is about Rome, about its existence and importance.

"The Pure Number" consists of thoughts about purity as a word and as a concept. The book ends with "The Painting Exhibition", where another form of creativity is discussed. There is the artist and his paintings and how the paint transforms into a painting on its way from the palate to the canvas. The book starts with writing about writing and it ends with writing about painting.

Jag tror det här är en bok jag kommer läsa om många gånger.

write all the same, in spite of despair. no: with despair.

made me cry in the middle of the café at the art gallery... pain ❤️ the death of the young british pilot quite literally knocked the wind out of me, but more uncannily gave me a terrible feeling of deja vu, because it felt like something i might write, like something that came directly out of my head more specifically, like i was reading something i'd written a long time ago and forgotten. so strange.

gosh, duras is just such a splendid writer. the way this book reads almost like a bizarre tangent to the lover... it's really true what they say, she just kept circling and circling around the same themes, the same moments in her life. it's haunting! but almost magical. i only wish the last half of the book were as strong as the first, it would have been a full five stars for me.

anyway, needless to say i returned to the gallery feeling a little bit dazed... how different a cézanne looks after one has read duras!

Duras dice que la soledad del escritor no se encuentra, que ese tipo de soledad se hace y que ella —como no podía ser de otra manera— construyó la propia.
En «Escribir» también habla de su casa, de su obra literaria, de su filmografía, de sus amistades y amores. En este ensayo no hay nada convencional (¿cuándo sí en su obra?). Cada vez que amenaza con llegar al corazón del libro, entregar una respuesta sobre el acto de escribir. Marguerite huye. Nunca hay claridad en las respuestas, toda la luz se concentra entre los signos de pregunta. Ella lo sabe, por eso cuestiona.

j'ai noté dans un coin pendant ma lecture : "Duras, on ne la comprend pas, on la ressent"

entre nous, j'ai pas tout compris, mais j'ai aimé cette lecture. je la relirais à l'occasion, quand même, parce que c'était un peu obscur et très mélancolique parfois, comme des monologues d'une personne très triste et très seule ; et en même temps les faits sont des faits et duras a vécu et écrit comme elle a écrit et vécu. (je suis vraiment pas sûr d'avoir compris quoique ce soit.)

“Un libro abierto también es la noche.

Estas palabras que acabo de pronunciar me hacen llorar, no se por qué.

Escribir a pesar de todo pese a la desesperación. No: con la desesperación.

[…]

Llorar, es necesario que eso también suceda.

Aunque llorar sea útil, creo que, con todo, es necesario llorar. Porque la desesperación es tangible. Permanece. El recuerdo de la desesperación permanece. A veces mata.

Escribir.

No puedo.”