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Baudalino ::
From Eco’s Baudalino:
and I said to him when you learn to read then you learn everything you didn’t know before. But when you write you write only what you know allready so patientia Im better off not knowing how to write because the ass is the ass
...
“After I had filled many parchments, sometimes day by day, I felt I was alive only because in the evening I could tell what had happened to me in the morning.”
This was only the beginning of chapter 2 and I was hooked.
I think these bits jumped out at me because the day before I began reading this, I’d just been recounting the writing-as-remembering who I am theme to a friend. I continue and learn more of Baudalino’s ability to tell inspired lies. The distinction between fiction and reality is beginning to blur in a quite fascinating way... is my whole life, at least from my personal point of view, any more than a work of autobiographical fiction, being constantly revised?
The Nature of Personal Reality, which popped back into consciousness recently, raises a similar question.
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