Life stands as a mirror to art
Oct. 9th, 2009 03:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceHeh. I seem to be liveblogging the end of this book.
I just wrote "a sour rising" - and remembered, and left the book sitting, the chapter unresolved. Went to the airing-cupboard and took out my own sour rising, the levain for my sourdough; and took it downstairs and mixed in various flours and oil and salt and such, and kneaded same, and set it all back in the airing-cupboard to rise. Which may take an hour or it may take all night. Which is kinda like finishing a book, really. Parallels are everywhere, if you only look for them. Which is of course a writer's absolute job, to spend their life describing one thing in terms of something else, something it isn't. A book is not a yeasted dough. And yet, and yet...
I just wrote "a sour rising" - and remembered, and left the book sitting, the chapter unresolved. Went to the airing-cupboard and took out my own sour rising, the levain for my sourdough; and took it downstairs and mixed in various flours and oil and salt and such, and kneaded same, and set it all back in the airing-cupboard to rise. Which may take an hour or it may take all night. Which is kinda like finishing a book, really. Parallels are everywhere, if you only look for them. Which is of course a writer's absolute job, to spend their life describing one thing in terms of something else, something it isn't. A book is not a yeasted dough. And yet, and yet...