A review by gemistos
L'Arret de Mort by Maurice Blanchot

2.0

i'm proud to say i didn't get it. it feels as though blanchot's prose, drenched in claustrophobia, takes perverse pleasure in condemning weary readers like myself to forever wander through the labyrinths in search of an exit. consuming this prose might very well demand the almost supernatural will expended by J in her rage against the dying of the light. perhaps in an altogether different circumstance...