Don’t Mention it!
The previous essay ended in the claim that Humean repetition as it is given in the principle of story telling, to be suspended in a complex four way axis. There is a repetition of passion – which is split up but the facets on a story into its chromatic parts. Parts that were are once already there – for greed or jealous also has anger – and yet were not as yet visible. The Young man in prison- or eve better, mr Dorrit in or out of prison or dying – present such a study. The aim in this aspect of story telling is not to exhaust the connection, so much as to present complex maps – which chart the strange constellation of passions, which pull out their nature, an pull it out again, is response o the plot line. Mr Dorrt, is greedy with Clenamm,condescending with Nandy, stuffy with Mrs General, and desperate with Amy. And yet catching up all these passions is the same thread bare myth, the same stiff pride , which was itself brewed with the prison all. Such passions are constellations in the sense that what the are 0 that s the precise feelings they are producing clearly alter according to he other passion, the individuals they encounter. Mr Dorrit, has one set of feelings when surrounded by Mr Murdl, and his dinner guests, but utterly different ones, when latter confronted by Young John chivery.
But in these encounters it is not the passion which drives the story forward- so much as the complex idea. Moreover this complex idea peculiarly matters and the constellation of passion it provikes are important, as there is actually nothing to demand that is start in th self. For Mr Dorrit to meet John Chivery in the days of his wealth, is for him to feel disgust and horror. A horror which if it is tied to him, would make him lash out at the hapless John. But if it is applied to John looking in at him, turns the equally innocent Jon into a a haunting death-clown. But more truthfully needs to be suspended in between Jon and Mr Dorrit – in neither but of both. It is the horror Dorrit feels about is pride, and another humanity. It is he caution John feels meeting him again. It is the respect he wants to show John (and the feelings of oddity towards his past Love Amy). It is it is. All these passion, personal and pre-personal enter into Mr Dorrit – so he cannot quite know what to feel. Passions, therefore serve the ‘plot lines’ – that is they serve the agglomerations of characters and story, before ever the individual absorbs those passions into their own ideas. or to put it differently, given sympathies deep return from elsewhere – form a position of writing beyond the current context (although it is not clear how far beyond, a point to return to, it does not itself hook into individual, but rather he passions, which it presents. Or better, it hooks into the passions, which it demands unwind themselves, which it agitates into presenting their complexities.
The Precise constellation of passion, is thereby defined by plot lines which demand their giving, in a mean that is essential in reverse to the normal ‘owned feeling’. In that case, the ideas simple and complex wander off or present and then represent external realities, which the intense passion grip the mind, holding it down in the case of pride – are determining it motion, in the case of all other passions, which split into differences. To own such a feels, all one needed to do was to generate those passion of love and pride, which can silently absorb all other feelings. Passions thereby drive the whole show forwards, demanding unities or splitting of those unties into ever shifting complexity. Complex ideas such as the self or another, then only gain their efficacy as they match and idea to passion..
However evening this exchange one needs to be careful. It is not simply that passions drive they thing forward; or even that they uniquely screw the mind downwards. On the contrary a passions efficacy ultimately rests upon the fact that thy ape the vivacity of the perception. It is this vivacity which actually conveys reality. It does so I that quite ungraspable element of vivacity, which at once demands an impression lies so lively in the mind, and which also demands when that impression is given in a idea, that very vivacity in caught up in numerous other ideas Passion thereby directly mirror the first aspect of this vivacity in their intensity. They too give a feeling contain others. And yet, when the impression, with its appeal to an outside, a being something also other, is free in being lively to necessarily be hooking itself up into others, the passion is only ours as those feelings are also already with what are. It is this second dimension – this necessary inclusion within the reflected, felt passion, that allows them to master the world of complex ideas. on the one hand passions clearly have integrally within themselves what ideas seem to lack- a source of their own intensity. They can therefore have the freedom- to (and over the tool for) claims towards about identities. Idea role is here merely one of supporting in the case of identity) or defining the conditions he passion splits into another passion that is defining the ideas for this process. The mechanics of the process itself lies purely within the intensity of the passions. The Vivacity of the idea, is therefore subsidiary in this process. It might serve to allow an idea to coalsese, or impose a strange new divide of its own. And yet it is hardly definitive..
The sympathetic story changes this model in that coming as it does from beyond the world of lived experience or even live-able experience from a domain of the purely sympathetic (I as I think you are to me, given I do no to know you), it pitches what it is outside of passion themselves. The essence of the sympathetic lies of course in that is does not feel its own passions – for if the passions were its own they would not of course be sympathetic…To Be sympathetic, is to look into the passions of others. It the therefore see passions, no longer a intensive powers, to be felt and acted upon, but rather as now the landscape of feeling within which the complex sympathetic idea comes to exist That idea itself is likewise a complex idea, whose provenance lies in its very ability to demand that a human, while conscious no longer simply knows quite what feeling are there, and what belong to another (the essence of the sympathetic). Moreover, as this pitching between passions, it of course the very essence of sympathy, where new and highly nuanced passions are interbred in the space between people (what else iis feeling o justice?).
Passions thereby are at once, reduced (they are linked to another); but also arranged in the service of another – an idea ,whose very vivacity is the product of these passions: For what is a sympathetic idea, what gives it its power but this arrangement itself – an arrangement which enfolds variety of different passions, as its peculiar provenance. Moreover in this case it is the complex idea which drives the process onwards, in that it is it, which defines the complex situation, and that pitched the sympthasizer beyond themselves. It is the complex idea, of the ‘Thread Bare Myth’, which force at once forces Dorrit to behave as he does, but also opens up that behaviour to the reader. The myth necessarily demands a space in between ever character in the story . They are all forces to witness it in someway – all are forced to be its conspirators (it here of course operates as the principle of substance to passions). However, pitched as it is beyond every individual, the myth only presents itself to the mind in the shifting patterns it produces within others passions. Hence the very arrangement of those passion, the very creation of crypto-subterran point of reference or junctions, or strained communication, becomes the very essence of the idea.
At this point two further dimensions come into play.
Firstly these strained connections need not be ordered. This I not therefore the stodgy formal splitting of duration, which always split again, as long at one waits long enough. On the contrary there is a real instability in what a single passion produces. Or at least there is form the side of the passion itself. Here of course absolutely full credit needs to be attributed to Hume. Had he had bred his passions to contain more or less an infinity of conflicting direct passions? Passion connections are thefore necessarily weird, and open, new ones being developed or given. Secondly, is in the very development, and then re-developement o these passion that the complex idea gives the sense of its reality. Indeed the complex idea has do ability to be of its own beyond this giving (hence motif defined justice). I is the arrangements, which flowing backwards from a space pitched beyond every indvidual (and yet which they ae as they are conscious a part of) , it arranges and re-arranges the passions which have be felt., and determines what it might be n the process. The only extra condition it adds to this process, is of course the demand that the results it produces within the passion are necessarily hooked together, and produce through tht arrangement an addition judgment as to the merits or demerits of the complex idea itself.
It is at this poiunt that one of course needs to build an additional layer or texture to the Humean analysis. For Hume, the significant element of sympathy lay in its breeding of justice. That is in the judgement that anyone who was conscious of its entire effect would have upon it. One looks at the thread bare myth from Hume (or amy’s) perspective, and see the harm it does (and the little good) and judges accordingly. He is lss interested in developing the aspect of the idea examined here. Sympathy itself is only possible if elsewhere there is a complex idea demanding the sympathetic itself to be. Ths idea is certainly not lacking in Hume. He certainly includes the important idea that justice will be applied to oneself (as will sympathy), as well as very succinctly defining the conditions for this application (tht sympathy was pitched beyond individuals). But he was not interested in running with this second aspect of this explanation, which surely that one needs to create ideas, which are at once complex and sympathetic. That is which demand that they are no longer quite pitched in the same space as more stand passions, and their ideas.. But rather resonate in their very ability demand at once a degree of consciousness in others, which is itself given in passions, and thereby provide the integral axis upon which the sympathetic judgement itself is then produced (this judgement holds all these passion down in one new and highly individual complex idea).
Thence Hume defines rather well the sympathetic dimension to passion. That is the passions, which flowing back from a palice beyond the current set of individuals, demands that in their giving, a series of different passions are split into. a dimnsion is this therefore inhabited by complex ideas, whose unitiy lies beyond anything that could be formally thought. A unity that I not even ‘felt’ (it is certainly not intuitive – ideas and passions remain separate therefore. it role is rather to exist as a provocation –or better a blending point, whose reality is given within arranging and re-arrnaging – within rickashaying around passions, from a potion which remains caught up in between any on of then or any one individual). That is whose reality is given across the very mutliplitude of interconnecting passions – a multitude which becomes o such an idea an xtense reality, win which its own exiecne is given.
It is of course this last point that really distinguishes this aspect of Hume from Deleuze and the Event. The event will repeat itself within the intense world of affect (or latter concepts). Its repetition across these world is the directly given within the intense magnitudes. It is these which constantly split and change, and use the capacity for being affected given in the event to do so. Difference remains primary intense Deleuze of course devised much of this reading Hume as much as anyone else). But Humean sympathy (in this first species of repeating at least) would pitch itself rather differently. It does not care two hoots about intensities romantic (and real rather pompous) claims to be real. On the contrary, it which it abuses those vivacities, those feeling horribly, arranging them as if they were mere external pre-disposition. It arranges them, pulling then out as ‘sticky toffee’, and using the pincer of a ’situation’ (Deleuze would say event) to do so. At these moments, as Deleuze remarks, what is happening is essentially inter-individual. But where, for Deleuze, it therefore follows that this means that this space must be theorized from a position of the Event, and the Kantain Idea (and therefore as if it were a thing in itself) : For Hume this space, will (a it is related within a story) already be caught up within a complex idea, which from it own level is articulating the in between status given here, to map out passions. Therefore while for Deleuze this dimension needs to be thought of As what is Real,: And therefore everything else must be turned into the silent witness of that reality. For Hume this aspect of thought is no more real than any other principle. It is a mistake to become too pompous about its truth therefore one merely has to comprehend what makes it so very different.
Perhaps to understand fully the last point one needs to remember exactly what the passions are for Hume passions are a strange hybrid reality. They clearly are real in the same sense that an impressions real. and yet that reality is not, and it s in impression, angles towards something else, but rather very stridently claims o be mine (whether I want it or not). Stories and sympathy allow the mind to very carefully navigate this claim. One minimises (or at least defines) the level or layer of passion one wishes to inhabit – and then create highly complex ideas, whose nature is actively given across the threads of the passions themselves.
Such an idea serve as a principle in that, as a principle on the most general of levels the concoct a thought which includes within its the sense that it endless grows. The principle marks the direction, which as it is followed, simple ideas become more and more lively (that is caught up with more and more other idea), and therefore become closer and closer to the vivacity of impressions, by losing the singular nature that was also a point in the original lively impression itself. The complex idea, underpinning sympathetic passions will therefore act as a principle, in that I endlessly grows, endlessly creates in the unwinding o passions, new aspects for itself, new ways to be felt. or explored: and with these ways new dimension by which one can grasp how passions are interlinked within on another. As such, as a principle, the ideas are doubly impersonal On the one hand each idea is necessarily pitched in between every individual character. It is the passions the idea binds up, or rather the very plethora of passions, which are articulate and explored and bounced of each other. On the other hand, as it does so it catches up every reader in its sympathetic mazeworks.
The value of course of such stories in that these trackways then lie (as judgesments also lie ) in the mind, awaiting the living of passions in the raw. Passoins, become sympathetic when they are beckoned on to other thoughts, or pulled (or annexed) in the name of other stories. Stories which allow one to re-given their nature. The story telling principle is the mind self Buggered.. that is the mind which has already been worked, and repuled, such that the feeling, that passion is has, are in there giving caught up in strange pathways, only partially known. The point of this buggeration is never total. Passion never repeat exactly as the same, nor should the. The point is rather is to pull those complex elements of a passion, which are caught up in the stories also otherwoods, and thereby allow the passion to resonate into new (and sympathetically defined) territory.
This repeating of passion is therefore highly complex. It sees the mind, in the name of its passions articulate itself into a sympathetic space, beyond any simple giving or determinate thought. A space which is articulated in order to breed into the mind additional thoughts, a reservoir of extra (if contigent) experience to restitch what it is.
Cutting across the chirpy chaos of passions, is the story line itself. Here the game is always to avoid trusims, for a story line is beset by them. On the one it is vapid to say that it is the story which gives the process of thinking onwards.. or hat the passion cannot occur with a story. This is strictly speaking true, and yet, in meaninglessly re-asserting the power of the conventional gathering of vivacity – it actually hides the far profounder, and yet more disjunctive story itself.
For the story be it the threadbare myth of the wealth of the Dorrit family, or the strange ‘DNF’ on the gold watch of Mr Cleannam, watch that made Arthur Clennam feel he was firmly caught up in another’s story. As indeed of course he was – quite literally- the story of his parentage. Here perhaps is first od ‘real’ feature of the story. Its origin is strictly speaking unlocateble. The story starts ‘about thirty years ago in Marseele, o in the Best of times, it was the worst of times’ or even always ‘nce upon a time’. The story might have a plot, and yet that plot is always free floating, and enwrapping many times.
The next truism claims that there is something significant in the endless repeating of stories one within the other. This truism rests on missing the essential element of all ideas. all complex ideas at least are repetition of other simple ideas. Indeed in the case of highly complex ideas the scale of this repetition is profound. The idea I have of a friend, repeats past memories actions, conversions, images, and well as thoughts, aspirations ,knoweldge of other stories, other friendships which I have had, and they have had….The more the merrier! For the power of the complex idea lies in their conjoining. That is it lies in the fact that each are being caught up in a single register, where to think one is to think another - and to in that thought feel realit its being given. It is a peculary feature of the Humean system of course that the plurality of itself does not require anything more that conjoining. The fundamental unit of the Humean world is wired to be multiple, and a thing is true in containing other elements others.
The Oddity in stories lies not in the containment of stories itself, and far more in the instability of that containing. Any one of a rich stories elements, Any one of its subsiduary story, is always awaiting the spring up, as The story. Taking an re-writing a myth is always the cheapest plot in town… as ancient Greek dramatists knew. But the full subtlety here needs to b carefully considered. The instability clearly goes beyond the rewrite of an old tale, and becomes actually cenetral to the story itself. Both on a vulgar level, and a far more sophisticated one. On the vulgar level it is plain enough that much of the full of a good Dickens novel (or even often enough a good fairy story) is that the actual story line gently shifts n the telling. One often gets n the impression in reading say the Old Curiousity Shop, or Bleak house, o even Mutual Friend, that the exact implication and ramification of the plot is being mapped out as the story is being written, with all the theorectical interests that sparks!
On a moe sophisticated level, there is a real instability in a plot line. One is always, as one reads wonder exactly who story this tale’s is – a wondering that is shared very directly with the character themselves (indeed it is one of the main point of meeting with such characters). Arthur Clennam, is a man who wanders across plotline;The helpful friend, he lover, the man of busines, the hated son…. To be in a story and to be reading a story, is therefore necessarily to be caught up in a welter of narrative threads, each of which could be the story. And yet here the Humean (Brightside fanatic) differs from othermore modern approaches (as indeed dickens of Mrs. Dalloway do). He does noto conclude from this welter of stories, of plotlines, that these pot lines have an ontology which must be thought id iself. That therefore this tells one a salient fact about a time, and the entities which dwell in such a time (the Deleuzian move). For the brightsider does not ever forget the necessity of being in a story (in a complex idea), even a complex one. Or again they do not loose sight of the fact that I is integral to an single stores o have this dynamic tension within them. That in a sense this tension, this potentitality is itself enfolded into the stories in the first place the Narrative is this ability to wander across to other stories.
Narratives do not just contain other narratives, but also, as a part of the means of separtingn pull out, and flirting with becoming these other narrative, and what defines the story line as being this one and not that one, is the stories they pull out and replace. Take as example Arthur Clennam’s love for Pet. This Love was already a love founded in the repetition of another story = that of Arthur’s love for the young Flora (who the even younger Pet reminds him of). This story of unrequited love is told in terms of ht hero of man a good yarn ‘no-one’. It is Arthur, is his a capcity as nobody who falls in love with here (for he knows we will not, and must not). It is nobody that then pays court to here, going down to visit her parents. Nobody to is jealous of Gowan. And yet this nobody is then taken as given a ghost bride. Pet’s father, enters the fantasy, and imagines (on Pet’s marriage to Gowan) that Nobody-Arthur married Pet’s dead twin sister, and become his son-in-law, even if a widowed one. Arthur responses to this by letting a bouquet of flower float down the Thames, and seeing in that his youth and love float away. Arthur thereby becomes caught up in a plot line, which is of course so very different to Amy’ plot line. A plotine moreover tht then threatens the action of the boo (and Arthur feels he needs o be faithful to the image of e floating flowers). And t is only by gong back, and re-writing the plot line up to the point of the flower floating down the Thames (or better re-appraising what was going on in this plotline of nobody-arthur the lover), thatArthur becomes able to a take part in that other great plot line of the book, Amy’s hidden love for him.
Plot lines reach up and joke a narrative –always threatening it with elsewhere. But then what makes a single thread a story/ what is it that makes fools one with patronizing idiocy tatvdikens s he great story teller - but which they mean narrative merchant. What is a narrative? Where is it, if in one his long books the narrative is endlessly being chocked out. Narratives, plot lines subsume all the rest not by begin a simply thread running through the entire plot, as much as being the moment of collision at the end of the book. It is only the end of the book which unthreads, and rethreads all other narratives, and confirms the ability of one complex idea to enfold all the rest. Or better it confirms the rights of a complex idea to be that which was always enfolding all the other plotlines.
Here of course is the game is not simply to has a resolution. An obvious plot line which was going somewhere at a relativily stead pace. What makes a good plotline is the very oddity of the central story itself. it needs to be contained within the tale, and yet not obvious, or rather if it is obvious (Jane Austen ends in Marriage, well all save Sanditon), That is needs not be obvious how that end will erupt into the story and claim all the rest, for itself (even if one knows it will) Hence the gestures to plotline so common is nineteenth century novels at least. ‘Hero’ look significant or are confused, or an action occurs whose agent is not stated (think Smike); or tell stories of their own or… the point in all these ruse is to look into the stated stories other dimensions.
At this point no doubt the patronizing fools, who have already insulted smirk. The bugger has made a clear mistake thy glee. Or better he has revealed his clear fundy-duddy sttus. Stories such as he waxes about have happy ending, and resoltuion, which is of course so immature – for Life is not lik that! We wan in this modern age of ours, stories with multiple resolution or even better now resolution at all. That would indeed be a story indeed.
The quip answer to this is that this last plea is not a story, so much as real life itself. The aim of the story lies not in its reality, so much in its being a principle for no principle as no complex idea is every simply real – nor should it ever be so). The first folly here therefore lies in thinking the happy ending, in thinking the story was a perfect cameras shot of the world. OF course it was not, and the resolution it offers was not that either.
But hidden within the argument is a second division of folly. In the previous argument the aim o a good story was linked to an ability to map out passions. He story resolve, not because it has anything to do with real life, but rather because if one is unwinding and developing new trackways of feelings, those feeling a dimension, where their hard one extensitiy (without which one would not be able to map them at all of course) is pitched back into the world. that is they need a rhythm. Both in the sense ht each passion is forces to unwind into others at a certin tempo 9of it lacks any tempo of its own here – it would be merely infinite in it unwinding). The resolution in the plot line, serves there to measure the plot up to that point. It gives a temp to the desire taken out and transformed. But even more vitally, given the role of the tale was to tie up passions within the mind, and produce new means to link them together. The resolution is the final point the two repetitions of a story, the shifting passions, and complex plot collide in a reolstion. It is then the point where the complex passion, which have been cooked togtehr across the varying shiftind and eddys of plot line are suddenly givien boots, ans sent to march of into the world. Or better it is the point that the story tops becoming a story at all, and slip into real life.
This last point demands of course that one leave that other great truism of the great story – the happy ending. A happy ending or resolution is misunderstood if it is thought to be the simple end of a process It is any thing but. To live happy after is after all a statement almost a manifesto. Or better it is the pojt wheen this particular element, this dimension , this slice through passions is revolved. It is the point it can be taken out from the context of the story and become a point, a chunk of a story pitched into everyday life. Without this resolution of course the passions risk jangling off again in their own differing ways ,and the entire trackways traced are thereby lost. Now, as a concession t the follies mentioned above, one has to note that this is not of itself a bad think. A passions resolved and then pulled apart again it itself a positive dimension. There is meaning there too! And the ghost looking together can have its own resonance. And yet three point need to be made. firstly it takes a truly fine writer to effect this essentially frustrating move, and have it make sense. Secondly the appeal to the real ‘world’ or to moral superiority on the behalf of the dissolutionists at this point is plain crazy there is nothing more integrally noble (or even simply realistic) about letting elements of the plot slide by . resolution is common (to the degree practiced by Dickens) in the world. The denial of this fact is of course the confusion of the metaphysical (no God) with the personal ( some passions). The End of God, is not ever to be confused with the end of happy endings. Thirdly there are clear status problems in the dissolutioninst move, to tie passions together, and let them fall apart again, and to do so without the support of plot lines (for the falling apart of narrative is of course integral to a plotline itself), is to beg a further question, of what is happening in this dissolution/ Are then elements being simply ignored for ever after (in which case of course the modernist fable vanishes into ‘mere entertainment’); or are they being expected to find a new resonance, to demand a new resolution in the mind (in which case the modern is fable of no resolution is simple lie, the resolution is left to the reader. Or is there very lack of resolution meant to meant that the passions and their ghost tie in as able to waft around in the mind, both there and not there. This is no doubt the intended solution; and yet it is essentially really rather similar to the effect of the narrative story anyway (which of course includes any other stories, only partially resolved). Or is that the author of such foilbles imagines they are an emotional terrorist, lowing about all narrative threads, or possibilities, leaving life raw and painful. An act which is at once pointless, and supreme vapid, while also being strangely egostical!
My pot in this diatribe is really that we do not really understand the point of the happy ending, and therefore all tales of its demise are misplaced. The resolution of a novel, should always be as the resolution of Little Dorrit is- in effect no ending, but rather a pitching. Amy and Arthur do not live happily every after, but are rather very ruthlessly pitched on their ending ay into life of useful activity amongst the hubbub of London. The ‘resolution’ marks the point when boots are strapped onto a series of conjunction, as it is formalized into an idea, whose nature now given, can be articulated within a world.
The complex idea, is thereby freed up, from the sotires which were seen merely to be a part of it. It stands free of them. And therefore engrosses with it the passions, which were also part of the tale. The trackways of feelings become available for use within the mind (they become live as it were). Passions, that is lived passions, will start to fee there way along these trackways (they will use the story to think within – they will feel themselves located within it, and live through or across it. To be a frustaed lover, become to also be Arthurs, and to dismiss love or love it as nobody, as the bride to the dead sister, or find it somewhere else in someone else. To Be in love apart finds endless new resonances across a single tale.
Moevoer these resonances are not them simply sealed into the one tale (as it a story demanded one went around and around within the same). On the contrary the fact that all these ideas are bound up in a single happy ending, in a resolution , become the point that passions which have been arranged across themselves, must become useful again (it is the point one needs to stop reading, and do something else…). To be caught up is a plot line which ends is to caught up in not merely to devise a principle for passions (a principle in which new connections are given, in such a way that other moves, and yet others are caught up in a web: a Web that traps even apparent disperate feeling (Arthur’s love) within the same axis. But this axis is then pitch into action of itself. It might other plots, at once based in this one, and yet also discrete from it. It is all its complexity therefore becomes a mere part is other complexities in which it also must resonate.
Perhaps, this leads to the final gripe: the problem with modern novels ins not that they are original, but rather that they are not. Or better they re simply doing worse what Austen or Dickens already did Both these authors were aware that the story shifted when the book closed. There writing was expressive of that fact, and the ending its more or less deliberate provacation: the point the reader has to become worthy of reading the book. The modern novel if it lacks such an end simply makes too great a claim for itself. To reflect live, is to mistake whatlife is (for it presents no image for look at. Life is surely, what it was for Hume and dickens (or for Deleuze for that matter) , the pitching oneself within something else: the Novel complete with tis reosltun is the supreme agency of this pitching. To end is to be hunble, and to resolve is to desire to be effective. Any other move, in effect wants the author to ply the role fo disfunctinoal God, to his creation (tht is to be the master of the disjunctional synthesis), It does not then allow what is the prime message of such a synthesis that the characters (or even better the passions they excite) need to march out beyond the book they are it, in a very real sense. To right a novel is to allow these marching feet their point of escape, in the end. Or better it is to demanding t novel is pitched into a life, or pitching as living, into the world: Or even better it is the point a ovel realizes it need not be a work of philosophy (as most modern novels are) or a work of psc=ychologg (as nothing, not or perhaps particulay not, even psychological should be). It has the abilty to break minds in its own right, and needs the confidence for that move.
The problem here goes back to that problem if intensity. I claimed in the previous essay that in a complex story the idea had become as if intuitive. It eludes the many plots it involves, breaking them up, as it breakes them into a certain narrative. The story itself, the point of escape, is thereby located across the entire story, in all the very different narratives, which it hooks up - and jingle jangles in each other. The Story is therefore elusive and indecisive, with the tale. Hooking each element into the other. Forcing each element to pull towards together moments, even engrossing other elements into the tale. The story is vet much the carnivorous plant, which traps unwary meat within its fronds.
Ad yet as it acts in this manner, it also spinning together the passions, weaving them, pressing them, into a fabric, which has an undeninable unity of its own, a unity only created in the alchemy of the story line - which allows its to radiate out, and it pssion were extense: and which of a sudden takes the themses so woven and piched them into a dsicirdat world, as a principle which also must be used.