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emilyconstance's review against another edition
4.0
Writing–and by extension, reading–is a different way of thinking; a way in which thoughts and feelings come together, where what is inside us is suddenly exorcised out of us and into our physical, material, and natural reality. Literature is, per one of the examples that Knausgaard uses, a space–or a realm–in which what Don Quixote imagines the world to be, and how it actually is, exist simultaneously, allowing truths to come out and reveal themselves—but only inadvertently.
Knausgaard, with his boundless understanding of classic literature and art, hits a lot of the same points that by now I’m so used to with Lispector: that writing is a way to go beyond-thought, to capture the thing in the thing itself; the instant now. As Knausgaard suggests, it’s a way to expel what Proust called our “involuntary memories” that we live our lives in–“completely unprocessed, time appears in almost raw state, beyond the control of thought and memory, connected with life as it was actually lived.”
According to Knausgaard, writing seems to be a way of using language–or establishing a new one entirely–so that the “true name” of every thing, every animal, every human being…and to go even further: of every emotion, every feeling, every sensation…may be revealed. Paradoxically, this requires going against the arbitrary limits and standards created by language…
And in order to make these truths accessible, or to make our involuntary memories, or the longing that we feel to “equalize the difference [between the illimitable that dwells within us and our simultaneous limitations and earthboundness,”, is through form. Form is what allows the truth to “emerge…to be seen…[to make] it possible to say,” because while we already carry all of these truths within us, they only become meaningful through form, as form gives way to interpretation, as Knausgaard notes:
And it is because of this–because it is through writing, the amalgamation of the inexorable illimitable within us and our limited, physical reality, that we are able to discern our truth, meaning, and purpose–that Knaugaard writes.
“It doesn’t matter whether it is the writer or what he is writing about that comes along inadvertently. Thoughts are the enemy of the inadvertent, for if one thinks about how something will seem to others, if one thinks about whether something is important or good enough, if one begins to calculate, and to pretend, then it is no longer inadvertent and accessible as itself, but only as what we have made it into.”
Knausgaard, with his boundless understanding of classic literature and art, hits a lot of the same points that by now I’m so used to with Lispector: that writing is a way to go beyond-thought, to capture the thing in the thing itself; the instant now. As Knausgaard suggests, it’s a way to expel what Proust called our “involuntary memories” that we live our lives in–“completely unprocessed, time appears in almost raw state, beyond the control of thought and memory, connected with life as it was actually lived.”
According to Knausgaard, writing seems to be a way of using language–or establishing a new one entirely–so that the “true name” of every thing, every animal, every human being…and to go even further: of every emotion, every feeling, every sensation…may be revealed. Paradoxically, this requires going against the arbitrary limits and standards created by language…
“But as it happens, writing is precisely about disregarding how something seems in the eyes of others, it is precisely about freeing oneself from all kinds of judgments and from posturing and positioning. Writing is about making something accessible, allowing something to reveal itself.”
And in order to make these truths accessible, or to make our involuntary memories, or the longing that we feel to “equalize the difference [between the illimitable that dwells within us and our simultaneous limitations and earthboundness,”, is through form. Form is what allows the truth to “emerge…to be seen…[to make] it possible to say,” because while we already carry all of these truths within us, they only become meaningful through form, as form gives way to interpretation, as Knausgaard notes:
“The optic may change. But not what one is looking at. All these possible interpretations of the world, all these layers of reality, are made possible through form.”
And it is because of this–because it is through writing, the amalgamation of the inexorable illimitable within us and our limited, physical reality, that we are able to discern our truth, meaning, and purpose–that Knaugaard writes.
“It wasn’t until I discovered this, that the distance of form and language created a space into which I could pour my self, where I lost ownership and control over it and where what was me was transformed into ‘me,’ that I became a writer.”
kirsten0929's review against another edition
5.0
[2018] In this essay, the author addresses, "why I write." By the end of it, I still don't think either of us knows, but it doesn't matter, I just loved reading him riff on it.
fedeknold's review against another edition
4.0
"Det særligt tiltalende ved denne lille sag er, at den både fungerer som en introduktion til Knausgårds forfatterskab og skrivestil såvel som en tur bag ’scenetæppet’ for dem, der allerede er fans."
Læs resten af anmeldelsen på Metronaut.dk
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alexanderp's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
fast-paced
5.0
Powerful little meditation on writing and the processes that go into it. Knausgard in characteristic transparency gives a brutal look inside to how he arrived where he did and how the journey for each of us is just as hard. The reality that for him his first love was reading and how that led to writing is truly lovely. This is going to be an annual read for me.
ebokhyllami's review against another edition
4.0
Forunderlig interessant om Knausgårds syn på egen lesing og skriving.
mangliu0130's review against another edition
4.0
关于写作的一次演讲稿。里面提及他看权游，入迷地追到凌晨一点，但是睡觉时回想感觉内心很空虚，然后开始讲文学跟这种电视剧的根本性区别，文学就是被转换为其他艺术形式所剩下的东西（或者说不能被转换的部分）。这里写到我心里了，月初读完的，回想了很多次。也解释了我为什么不爱Fantasy这个genre
非常短，但是还有很多亮点，我爱老克
非常短，但是还有很多亮点，我爱老克
unidentifiedgemstone's review against another edition
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
3.5
Like,, good but not mind blowing?