Are you ever a reader, only? Or is it that you write, too, as you read, or that what you read is concealed by that – by another writing, by your desire to write? Imagine it: the banker who gave up dreams of writing for finance, but who reads to know it again – writing, the desire to write. Who reads and writes, but without pen or paper. In another life, when writing would not give her up.
She reads – but does she read? Lacan says no one is interested in another’s symptom. And likewise, I think sometimes, with those readers who write when they read, but in another life. Thus, reading Handke, I dream of another book I would like to write, and my reading is that dreaming. And what I write here? So many emails from creative writers and musicians – what are they reading? Of what do they dream as they read?
Lars Iyer's Blog 