The two types of Writing.
What is writing/ dickens suggests a novel formula: writing is the blowing of papers in the a cold wind April wind. Little flexures or fractures of knowledge, that blow in the mind. Fractures that reflect an affluent society – for Pars is too poor to have such paper. Paper that carry god knows what writing; Record of downed men? A true account of the Harmon murder? The Secret of life/
Writing is therefore papers in a black winds- seldom read, and yet everywhere: And everywhere they are as a thing shattered. And usually ignored – and yet which might hold something extra – so other meaning on which a world or a word might turn.
The Extra, the excess of London is the cold fractures wind, is the excess of having extra plots, or information blown in fro anyway.
This surfeit of truth is seen evident of the thoughts and feelings to the police. The London police sit if office, and wait knowledge to do their way. When it comes they do not care too much about whether it is true. Or better they care that the information is in the right Ball park even if it is not specifically the case. The inform of colleague might mean they you are the one that is guilty, but treated aright this does not matter. The Police will use the information. They will arrest the partner on whom you inform. In doing so they will seek to trap you.
The Inspector, who uses writing all the time, therefore sees that writing as a two edged weapon: likely to fold back at hit those to supplied what was written.
Dickens therefore presents a world where writing is blowing in for everywhere- and blowing in as a thing in itself, and for itself. That is a thing which one does not control or master. It acolytes the inspectors know that what is said or recorded n the written is to itself true and is not creative or valuable because of any truth content. On the contrary, once the accusation is made it is to be treated as a statement into which conflicting relativities fall and re-fall. To accuse another is dangerous therefore, and the accusing might wrap up those who are accused within its deadly embrace.
Writing is an open handed emblem, and a dangerous weapon indeed.
However what is it?
Here Dickens insist one needs to distinguish two different moments of writing. Writing is a social or a biological force – and each of these forces work rather differently.
As A social force, writing is essentially beholden to with mocking of those elements that recorded it.
Eugene’s father is a man of society, a man who does not have sons, so much as babies born not respectable professions. His children are educated and funded according to what he preordains for them. There lives are therefore recorded by him only a live minutes father their birth.
We operates here as a complex author: on the one hand he is writing down the cause of their lives (including who they must marry and when). On the other hand he is in doing so merely interpreting what has been already written in the wider realm or domain of society.
It is therefore no author but rather a transcribers.
The words of society r translated into lives through his actions, and everyone is caught: or to putt another way – the written is write-in what is already now. There is a sense therefore that writing is always about elements present in the mind (even is that presence is only created or better only resolved in the act of writing itself). To write is to bend towards a things as if it were there, and were complete, an therefore can be the topic of the written (and open for others). It force the gossamer of thought into formulation , which resolves as things real, tings as stable and fixed.
Society is then in a sense created as the nexus of this other stability. That is ,it that which exists as it is stabilises and formularised in the writing down of its customs the perpetually o. it has no other reality that this written down element (but the writing is impossible without it).
Society and writing therefore rise together, in the sense that large complex societies fall of wind and order and extra dimensions are our conceived in the minds as a thing written down (so everyone knows there own place).
But then what is it to be that what is engraved in society?
Dickens is as brutal as ever in his answer.
One is inside a life written down as someone caught in an every flowing monotony.
The tonal act of reading, with its apparent linearity, page on page, is dull.
It captures minds in a trap of repeating what they are again and again: In professions they loath, and a society they feel they do not fit in and yet which they cannot escape.
To be within writing, to be trapped within the written is therefore to be caught in a at trap, which passes all limitation or restriction. A rat trapping mind.
One is merely the product of the written: one live is never one on. It is caught by the transcribers, who writes down society 9or what he thinks society itself contains), and hands that writing down to one as ones life.
To follow the social order is therefore to be caught in an axis of monotony that passes any understanding or hope. It is never to be in control.
Worse than that of course the very social force that dictates what and here on is that force that deprives a mind of the very possibility of any control or limit.
Monotony the flow of a time and the enforcing of a life, is the natural corollary of an element which is necessarily pre-programmed by forces which only exist as they programme minds (a society), and y which as they are conjured up into that life are utterly constricting and binding.
One is caught with everyone else in honouring the same set of rules –rules at cannot be negotiated or reworked (as they exist only in that which they take already created, and are not open), and which one can only blindly follow.
Society is the enforcing or order a boredom of life – but then what about life itself – what forms or writing might it follow, and how does it react to them?
Firstly it is clear enough that what biology writes is difference in it essence from that which society offers.
It does not write down the great grand occasion so much as the very little event.
It is the lung of the birds head or the effect of a certain famine that casts its shadow of the writings or records of biology. The entire system might then be conjured within this incidentally writing, but it exists in some sense because of events, and not merely sets of social orders.
Biology therefore seeks to code from a very different place, and in a differing manner to society.
It trusts the same eventual set of circumstance whose events it codes (and freezes as a thing), to then pitch what is codes into a system.
Writing is not then the formalising of meaning s such, so much as he crayon of pivots or loci of meaning. That s frozen point where what one things, what one asserts if given in a scrap of paper and ones actions age therefore open to others, and allowed for by those others. Writing therefore creates a side dimension, that allows other element to be swept along in past events. This sweeping then enriches the effect of that past: Other elements are swept into it, and action made in the light of it, actions which would not otherwise have been made.
Writing is therefore the point one frees the communication of the event, and forces many to listen: A point that then changes how one acts: one acts from that moment as the acolyte of the written. One follows what it says, and as if it were true. On appears to be concerned with that writing alone.
But his leads to three further questions: Firstly why write down at al. By must biology or life use writing as a mean to exchange? The answer is clear enough- writing brings rewards. It allows a different series of events o become naturalised and normal. It creates its own effect, which aids certain forms of live be that specified evolving or rogue Riderhood scheming.
But then what is written? This is a far more complex question. what is written is never simply the event itself, It is rather the effect of the event upon the element which demands the writing itself. That is what is written, what is left to posterity or evolution, in the effects on those that lived. These effect might be merely passive : A plague strikes and only a few live. Their very presence therefore is as a form of writing as what will then follow will witness the fact that they are as they are. Events can therefore make what one has the peculiarly precious and valuable.
Alternatively one might one might ser a truth than is. That is ones prelisting presence or truth (what one already knows as oneself) might itself be very useful or contain some truth that is valuable in a specific context. Something happens and one finds within oneself the resources to respond : One therefore finds that oneself alone is enough to affirm the event. One had something I oneself than made one the master of it, and which deserved to be recorded for all of time.
Or again one might have the ability to be caught up with other element, and through them. what one might record therefore are then able effect of interaction with others, in ones joint efforts to escape or mitigate a circumstance. One records or rather one has recorded within one, not the effect one directly acts upon, but rather ones part in a wider picture, ones roles as bit player, that makes one as special.
In all these process what is recorded is indirect. One does not write it down oneself, One is therefore always open about exactly what is written. one might add more word, pile them one on the other, according to these rubrics. Likewise one is careful that one is not directly creating the rubrics themselves (this is not Larmackianism). I is not ones effort that is written but rather ones being caught up in vent which reflect or use what one already is (codes one has already), and ones links o an through others.
Life therefore has fractured random codes, but these codes are only articulated into meaning in the sequence of events – which pick out some, and pass them on: Meaning is therefore given to, or after falls upon the apparently random, the fractures slivers of codes are articulated as something to be inherited (that is for others to act upon, and which demand others witness them0.
Events therefore for a backdrop in which the biological written is articulated (and the choice is always between big and little types of events).
Or to put it slightly differently biology is pitched oddly. I written, the fragments of codes, only become code for I use It is then as they are used they become what they are (and history only records some of them, those that survive in use). The writing is therefore always posed before the events it comes to encode (it was their), even though its value only makes sense after these events. And yet that writing can only be written, only has value as it is caught up in the evens that follows (and has it has the subsequent owner o force others to agree with hose events). The initial writing is therefore valueless (or merely an assertion or a fragment in something else). It value is to be giving latter.
One writes but then whether this writing has value depends upon the actions.
One might then write is strides but each writing prefigures a journey in the cold.
But hen how does life itself make this journey? By is nature is must make it in an unresolved if powerful form.
It is as life it is not clear where or what ill happen. I is not clear which evens will sweep away what am already (the written pasts of a body), and what they will swept away. T be written, that is to have a body which his already interacting with the world even as one is within it, is therefore o pitch oneself inside a series of striving. But then does it make any sense (or is it merely an illusion) to pitch oneself as a thing inside this striving. The problem is rather complex, as of course it depends rather on what one means by a thing.
I clearly cannot be the parts of ones body, which manage caught up in little trips o their own, little relations with other parts, and parts in other individuals (this nose not that one survives). To this degree I lake every unity. However uniting any one boy is of course sprit in life- a living which makes all these parts caught in a common series of lived relations. My parts are completing with other parts, and yet they are only doing do within a whole body. This then reflects these elements into a polling of their striving. They are all caught up in each there, and thorough each others effects.
Become ten certainly no thing, but rather a mere locus of strivings of desires, which has they coordinate create within that relationship I become therefore a striver within body. This striver is always complex and can always fragment: I might hoop into certain bits of it more than others and yet this hoping and the cross relations it breeds it itself a part of that striving.
An I is hoped back never to a self but rather to a certain constellation a striving in a body (a conatus) – a striving which will then gain peculiarity in time (and through individual flavourings) and which certainly can never be purely restricted to a body, and whey which cannot either be ever pulled out of come body doing something (that it coordinating different element).
I might therefore be pitched in a way hat divides that collapses that implodes, but each of these moves demands (if there is living men at all) something inside, something coordinating these elements, and forcing them to matter. A Little strive a very rough form of an, which forces relations between elements such that a whole lives, and continues to function.
It is such a whole that not in on conscious (and eventually identity are built or made):
Individual consciousness (I Like this or that) then falls onto the old as this which is crested in this constellation that which manes the effect of being found within a body – but the actual driving coordination is always elsewhere: It is pitched as the story which runs across there differing elements- the strive that encases a writing and uses is as its own (and s various ways), a strive that makes any single personality (which only comes is a s personal history and so latter).
In the body therefore the writing is pitched as open or rather it is the forced opening in a body, which can react many ways and has many differing opens for its coordinating strivings. These ways are then held in the striving of the conatus (which coordinates them), and only latter indicted by memory and society.
Toe biological written might then create patterns out of events across the past, but in each individual none the less it exists in a whirls of possibility, or other usage…