On doit avoir très peur d'écrire. Ça n'est pas un acte naturel comme manger, ou faire l'amour. D'une certaine façon, c'est un acte contre nature. C'est dire à la nature qu'elle ne suffit pas, qu'il faut une autre réalité, l'imagination littéraire. 
Carlos Fuentes, écrivain mexicain décédé hier à l'âge de 83 ans.
He did write about his illness, however. In an essay in The New York Review of Books in January, he wrote, “In contrast to almost every other serious or deadly disease, one is thus left free to contemplate at leisure and in minimal discomfort the catastrophic progress of one’s own deterioration.”
History remained uppermost in his mind, though. In “Ill Fares the Land,” he turned his attention to a problem he regarded as acute: the loss of faith in social democracy, and the power of the state to do good, that had brought prosperity to so many European countries after World War II.
“The historian’s task is not to disrupt for the sake of it, but it is to tell what is almost always an uncomfortable story and explain why the discomfort is part of the truth we need to live well and live properly,” he told Historically Speaking. “A well-organized society is one in which we know the truth about ourselves collectively, not one in which we tell pleasant lies about ourselves.”
2 commentaires
La Rédaction
cinnaro
(Voir alinéa 3).