(FREE DOWNLOAD) é The One Who Was Standing Apart from Me õ eBook or E-pub free

,, ,, , , ,, ,, , , , As Derrida mentions in the story of Blanchot s nearly death experience, he is living between life and death He s dead and yet not And here through the book it mostly feels like you re walking on glass, waiting for sth to happen, reaching an end or waiting for the glass to break but nothing happens It s just you and the glass.The book takes a few hours, but surely sticks for a long long time. The one who stands apart from me is not me.A saying without answer, writing n ever written, echoing its internal silence A dialogue with the other who is none other than one s self though not the fictive I, but outside such constructions.No beginning, no end, repeating itself endlessly in a perpetual circle that is yet to close for closure is completeness Vortextual then.Rather, a parenthetical dialogue monologue that is at the heart of, and yet outside of and otherwise than, the key t The one who stands apart from me is not me.A saying without answer, writing n ever written, echoing its internal silence A dialogue with the other who is none other than one s self though not the fictive I, but outside such constructions.No beginning, no end, repeating itself endlessly in a perpetual circle that is yet to close for closure is completeness Vortextual then.Rather, a parenthetical dialogue monologue that is at the heart of, and yet outside of and otherwise than, the key to the question Who the mark that implies the question Maybe his most bizarre book Maybe not his most ominous but of course it is I think it s essentially about a writer struggling to write but everything is so very bare almost to the point of absence the main character is I , the companion he Very bizarre, ominous things are said, like the narrator says something like I ve been here a long time haven t I and the companion affirms I think I wrote this in another Blanchot review but every fiction piece I ve read by him feels like within Maybe his most bizarre book Maybe not his most ominous but of course it is I think it s essentially about a writer struggling to write but everything is so very bare almost to the point of absence the main character is I , the companion he Very bizarre, ominous things are said, like the narrator says something like I ve been here a long time haven t I and the companion affirms I think I wrote this in another Blanchot review but every fiction piece I ve read by him feels like within the story s setting there s some horrible secret all the characters know but it s never revealed It s pretty readable by Blanchot standards until the last 20 ish pages where it gets into the narrator struggling with writing The writing was excellent, the meaning open to interpretation There s a horrifying part where the narrator very briefly sees someone in an armchair, and then later slouched against the wall by the stairs, but he feels as though the figure i think he calls it formless even isnt aware of him its the opposite the narrators gaze is riveting him to the wall Brilliant writing, I m not exactly sure if I would call this horror but it can get supremely unnerving and a sense of bizarre unease pervades all dialogue in it This might be my favorite Blanchot recit that i ve read Amazing winter tale. (FREE DOWNLOAD) ó The One Who Was Standing Apart from Me Ä This work takes the form of a conversation, an interview An obsessive questioning back and forth builds up Blanchot s narrative, with its sense shared with Kafka s famous doorkeeper parable that behind each question lies the spooky possibility of a further, imposing, insoluble question Thematically, powerlessness, inertia, insufficient speech, weariness, falling, faltering everything tied to a negative or nonexistent value in ordinary discourse is given value here by its being articulated, moved into writing and thought What s insignificant or worthless gathers weight through its troubling persistence, its failure to disappear The endless conversation of Blanchot s writing turns fiction toward an experience of listening a far cry from the storytelling most fiction still takes itself to be