W.G. Sebald teaches us that time is neither linear nor broken but fully present in each moment, and the past, contingent and knowable, manifests like a restless soul first in the body then on the page. Its sentence is scored by revision, dissolving contrails, the meandering footpath of the peripatetic. How can a methodology that obviates entropy and dares to sustain the paradox of failure, in which detritus serves as historical fact and destruction fortifies, also be a poethics?
Excerpt:
To steadfastly look toward the past, which is real and knowable, to see one’s being-in-the-world as both continuous and evolving, as even consequential and transcendent, is essential to easing the suffering of all beings. But if one opens herself to the past, the ghosts of her forefathers will inevitably haunt her.
W.G. Sebald teaches us that time is neither linear nor broken but fully present in each moment, and the past, contingent and knowable, manifests like a restless soul first in the body then on the page. Its sentence is scored by revision, dissolving contrails, the meandering footpath of the peripatetic. How can a methodology that obviates entropy and dares to sustain the paradox of failure, in which detritus serves as historical fact and destruction fortifies, also be a poethics?
Excerpt:
To steadfastly look toward the past, which is real and knowable, to see one’s being-in-the-world as both continuous and evolving, as even consequential and transcendent, is essential to easing the suffering of all beings. But if one opens herself to the past, the ghosts of her forefathers will inevitably haunt her.