I have been sitting here for quite some time now, trying to find a way around the maze of thoughts this book has created in my mind. I feel like I have removed every single one of my books from their current assigned place, put them all on the floor, as if mixing ingredients together, and read my way into finding a connection between them, the recipe. It’s not something physical, the connection, I mean, it’s not a thing, or a word, that you can point at and say, Look! There it is. That’s it. Instead, it’s a feeling that I find gathered in the very last line of Franny and Zooey,
“For some minutes, before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, she just lay quiet, smiling at the ceiling.”
I honestly don’t know what else to say about it. I would perhaps call it a revolution, but that doesn’t seem to be the point, at all. Instead, I think I will go with calling it an experience, for it certainly was one. The construction and deconstruction of everything and nothing… it was absolutely marvelous. It somehow reminded me of Voltaire’s Candid − must have been the discussion of wisdom, knowledge and intellectuality.
I think this is one of those that will require at least a second visit. Don’t mind if I do.