The field work of source collecting and quote hunting is past--I wouldn't say it is complete, or that it isn't sorely unfinished, or that it won't take several dutiful hours to coalesce what I have gathered--for the ghosts are calling for a series of sentences that are true to my original intentions, even if what I have thought of late is compromised. For everyone wants resolution--at the least, closure. I am to admit that the the old ideas have partly ceased to be; they have begun their new life in creative writing. I cannot claim fidelity to Durrell's text any longer, and I will appear as a thief if I proceed into fiction without admitting the places where my pen runs after a moment in Clea, for instance; but it could just as well have originated in Justine. To avoid redundancy I won't bother to list the other two books; one gets my drift. The theme is back to:
The absence of the other's mind during the creative act no longer causes dismay, for it frees up one's own mind, allowing unfiltered enjoyment of the other as a separate space moving about in distant though shared joie de vivre. The fortress shall not be compromised--yet the result of so much respect is the "marriage of true minds." I cannot put it other than in Durrell's terms; and by not electing a strict theoretical perspective, I am not obliged to pull out those moments that increase the scope and flexibility of any hermeneutics. My perspective seeks to become creative for an imagined freedom; bondage and debt are constants of literary production.
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