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Houellebecq speaks my mind

From Whatever:

‘Writing brings scant relief. It retraces, it delimits. It lends a touch of coherence, the idea of a kind of realism. One stumbles around in a cruel fog, but there is the odd pointer. Chaos is no more than a few feet away. A meagre victory, in truth.

What a contrast with the absolute, miraculous power of reading! An entire life spent reading would have fulfilled my every desire; I already knew that at the age of seven. The texture of the world is painful, inadequate; unalterable, or so it seems to me. Really, I believe that an entire life spent reading would have suited me best.

Such a life has not been granted me.’

On blogging

The last time I tried keeping a blog it didn’t really work. After a hard day’s writing, I found it difficult to relax and unwind by doing some more writing, especially when I didn’t have anything I wanted to write about. But this time will be different.

That is all. For now.

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