Sometimes, W. dreams of the book we might write together, which might appear under both our names. Our Anti-Oedipus, he says. Our German Ideology. Our System-Programme.
It won't be a book about a book, W. says, but a thing unto itself, standing on its own two feet. Not a book about books — a commentary-book, or an introductory book — but a book that would live its own life, running through the forest like Baba Yaga's hut.
Lars Iyer's Blog 