The Writer and the Critic
The writer is a critic. Every piece of writing is an interpretation. There is no objective reality, and clinging to that comfortable concept is nothing more than an attempt to lock the truth out in a pretense of normalcy. Truth is wordless and eternal, but I refuse to fall into the trap that held me captive for years after I discovered Levinas. Yes, the simplification of a complex Other into an easily digestible simple construct isn’t a great example of ethics as first philosophy, but we also must guard against a philosophy that so venerates the Other that the face-to-face relationship becomes just another form of priesthood. This turns the I/Other back into the I/Thou.
The Levinasian concept of the caress carries the implication of seasoned lovers who know in fleeting moments the faltering, fumbling magic of discovery. Writing—and life in general—is the joy of two virgin lovers alone in the dark discovering in each moment the fulfillment of pleasure. We make wrong moves and wrong assumptions, but recognizing wrong view is another form of right view. Truth is an experiential exercise. Mistakes are what make the process beautiful, personally meaningful, and fun. Stated more directly, the mistakes are a fundamental part of the process because they personalize truth into experience.
Write. Learn. Love. Experience. Life is not a spectator sport. Allowing the paralyzing grip of postmodernism, the sallow face of learned helplessness, or any other irrelevant impediment rob you and all of us of the benefit of your experience is a tragedy that even Shakespeare would envy.
Technorati Tags: Writing, Levinas, Critical Theory