Search
‘It’s a different kind of sensibility. Don’t you see? In a day when I buy food and cook it and look after Janet and work, there’s a flash of madness — when I write it down it looks dramatic and awful. It’s just because I write it down. But the real things that happened in that day were the ordinary things.’
‘Then why write it down at all? Do you realize the whole of this notebook, the blue one, is either newspaper cuttings, or bits like the blood and brain bit, all bracketed off, or crossed out; and then entries like buying tomatoes or tea?’
‘I suppose it is. It’s because I keep trying to write the truth and realizing it’s not true.’
‘Perhaps it is true,’ he said suddenly, ‘perhaps it is, and you can’t bear it, so you cross it out.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Why the four notebooks? What would happen if you had one big book without all those divisions and brackets and special writing?’
‘I’ve told you, chaos.’
He turned to look at her. He said sourly: ‘You look such a neat little thing and look at what you write.’
Anna said: ‘You sounded just like your mother then: that’s how she criticizes me — in that tone of voice.’
‘Don’t put me off, Anna. Are you afraid of being chaotic?’
Anna felt her stomach contract in a sort of fear, and said, after a pause: ‘I suppose I must be.’
‘Then it’s dishonest. After all, you take your stand on something, don’t you? Yes you do — you despise people like my father, who limit themselves. But you limit yourself too. For the same reason. You’re afraid. You’re being irresponsible.’ He made this final judgement, the pouting, deliberate mouth smiling with satisfaction. Anna realized that this was what he had come to say. This was the point they had been working towards all evening. And he was going on, but in a flash of knowledge she said: ‘I often leave my door open — have you been in here to read these notebooks?’
‘Yes, I have. I was here yesterday, but I saw you coming up the street so I went out before you could see me. Well I’ve decided that you’re dishonest, Anna. You are a happy person but …’
‘I, happy?’ said Anna, derisive.
Search
Bookmarks
You last read
Page
You last bookmarked
Page
Bookmark currentBookmarked!
Page 220
Comments
Previous page
with comments
<<
See all
comments
Go
Next page
with comments
>>