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A review by paperrcuts
Nightwood by Jeanette Winterson, Djuna Barnes, T.S. Eliot
4.0
"The doctor wiped his mouth. ‘In the acceptance of depravity the sense of the past is most fully captured. What is a ruin but Time easing itself of endurance? Corruption is the Age of Time. It is the body and the blood of ecstasy, religion and love. Ah, yes,’ the doctor added, ‘we do not “climb” to heights, we are eaten away to them, and then conformity, neatness, ceases to entertain us. Man is born as he dies, rebuking cleanliness; and there is its middle condition, the slovenliness that is usually an accompaniment of the “attractive” body, a sort of earth on which love feeds.’
‘That is true,’ Felix said with eagerness. ‘The Baronin had an undefinable disorder, a sort of “odour of memory”, like a person who has come from some place that we have forgotten and would give our life to recall.’
The doctor reached out for the bread. ‘So the reason for our cleanliness becomes apparent; cleanliness is a form of apprehension; our faulty racial memory is fathered by fear. Destiny and history are untidy; we fear memory of that disorder. Robin did not.’
‘No,’ Felix said in a low voice. ‘She did not.’"
‘That is true,’ Felix said with eagerness. ‘The Baronin had an undefinable disorder, a sort of “odour of memory”, like a person who has come from some place that we have forgotten and would give our life to recall.’
The doctor reached out for the bread. ‘So the reason for our cleanliness becomes apparent; cleanliness is a form of apprehension; our faulty racial memory is fathered by fear. Destiny and history are untidy; we fear memory of that disorder. Robin did not.’
‘No,’ Felix said in a low voice. ‘She did not.’"