Perhaps he realised that this poor material, this bitter little joke, bore within itself the soul not only of a unique masterpiece but of every novel that was to follow in its wake, like a flock of seagulls languidly following a battleship across the high, uncharted seas.
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And although probably not part of François’ original vision, the château seems to me to represent not only the nature of artistic endeavour, which is never realised in its full purity but always subject to compromise, but also the nature of the artist as such – incapable of becoming him- or herself without the work of a thousand other, often unknown, hearts and minds.
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