“(OR SOMETHING LIKE that.) Ten minutes after eleven in Archie McCue’s room on the third floor of the extension to Robert Matthews’ soaring sixties’ Tower – the Queen’s Tower, although no queen was ever likely to live in it. The gloomy atmosphere was made gloomier by the absence of electricity. A candle, stuck in an empty Blue Nun bottle, burned at the window like a signal. The university was still managing to run its heating although no-one knew how – perhaps they were burning books, or (more li...kely) students. The room was hot and airless and I had to peel off my layers of reject golfing sweaters, one by one. Archie was talking. Nothing will stop Archie talking, not even death probably, he will rumble on from the inside of his large coffin until the worms get fed up with the noise and eat his tongue –‘When words no longer strive for mimesis they become dislocated and disconnected. They illustrate in themselves the exhaustion of forms. Writers who eschew mimesis, looking for new ways of approaching the fiction construct, are disruptivist – challenging what Robbe-Grillet refers to as the “intelligibility of the world”.’ Archie paused.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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