“Sebastian Crutchfield published this novel a short time ago. Trouble is he rushed it into print, added extraneous material, made superfluous emendations, corrupted the text with sparkly fluff trying to impress readers with his sophistication rather than leading them deeper into the deepest solitude where voices speak to the aloneness that one is.” N provides the great phrase here “ It is about stripping down to the essentials, the aloneness that one is . . . . “
on Memory Fiction
I am going to have to rewrite it and publish the correct version sometime in the near future. One thinks of Borges' story "Pierre Menard," but of course the current situation is somewhat different.
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