The Murders in the Rue Morgue

Igual, me latió. Ya irán llegando los comentarios de la banda, poco a poco. Pese a que es su época, la banda todavía no sabe qué onda cuando se trata de algo un poco más elaborado que chatear. Sí, los comentarios de la rue, bien.

Bueno, el dia de hoy hubo una propuesta sobre eventos de nuestra área. Suena bien, aunque depende de la banda que todo resulte como se espera. En particular, habia platicado ya con nuestro boss sobre planear algun evento sobre literatura el próximo año, pero bien por la propuesta de Victor y bueno, sólo resta esperar que la banda responda.
Por otro lado, hace unos minutos estuve conversando con una amiga sobre unos rollos existenciales suyos y de alguna forma salto a mi mente un fragmento de The Balad of the Sad Café y lo comparti con ella. Me agrado que lo recibiera positivamente y me dijo algo muy cierto "malditos escritores..."  A lo que quizo referirse y yo lo interpreto de esta forma es que una de las finalidades de la literatura es precisamente dejar una impresion en el lector, algo más que una simple anécdota de lectura. Por si no lo recuerdan aquí dejo el fragmento al que me refiero... Disfrutenlo de nuevo...

“First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.”

~Carson McCullers, The Ballad of the Sad Cafe

http://hannahb.wordpress.com/2007/02/20/happy-birthday-carson-mccullers/

Respondiendo al comentario anterior de "¥ünûµ£N ", me  agrado el fragmento de "the balland of the Sad cafe". Tambien lo que comentabas acerca de la finalidad de la literatura/autor. Yo tambien he comentado con la banda acerca de esto, de la importancia fundamental, del placer, del  analisis y  sobre todo de la  apropiacion (consciente o incosciente) de la obra !! Good comment !!