The peculiar inaccessibility of the books, with their glaring pictures, titles and vignettes, and their indecipherable text, filled me with the belief that in general objects of this kind were not books at all, but advertisements, perhaps for machines like those my uncle produced in his London factory. Since I came to live in Anglo-Saxon countries and to understand English, this awareness has not been dispelled but strengthened.4 English spoken here indicates a double fear of the material. [...] we return to passion, its passion, what the proper name refuses and what it suffers: translation (how is one to translate the marks of punctuation, particularly the colon?): [T] he passion of the proper name: never to let itself be translated according to its desire - but to suffer translation - which is intolerable to it.
Contretemps: Qu’est-ce qui arrive?— Two Texts, Divided in Two, After Glas: What? Who? John Leavey Qu’est-ce qui arrive? . . . I began by asking, “What’s happening? ” . . . The phrase first asks “what”—or “who”:
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