” Literature destroyed us: we’ve always been agreed on that. The literary temptation was fatal. …But doesn’t W. admire the fact that we feel something about literature? Doesn’t he think it’s what saves us? W. is not persuaded. -‘It makes us vague and full of pathos. That’s all we have-pathos’.” – Lars Iyer, Spurious
Spurious is a novel by Lars Iyer. It is a quick and hilarious read. Ostensible about two blowhard intellectuals that ponder their useless place in a useless world devoid of meaning. And yes, it is very funny. By the time I got to the end of it I was convinced that W. was not a literal friend but much more likely that person that lives inside of us. I like to call this inner voice ‘the person that hates me the most in world.’ Sometimes your only friend.
“Why do we find our failures so amusing? But it does save us, we agree on that; it’s our gift to the world. We are content with very little:….’The gift of idiocy’, says W.”
It is, I hope, good to poke fun at ourselves and Iyers does it very well, keeping it concise enough so that it does not completely wear upon our nerves or leave us abject and lost in a world of moldy walls and thoughts.