Van has finished reading…Rates Of Exchange by Malcolm Bradbury

4 Sep

  “And they are right, because in all of us is a doubt, that we do not know ourselves at all. We all feel a bit guilty to exist.”

There are places in the world stranger than our own neighbourhood; perhaps that above all else is the reason why we travel. Of course it’s only strange to us for its lack of familiarity, and it elevates the pulse to navigate these places of otherness.

  How much stranger it is to navigate another’s life, to meet, trade time and language and feel some level of understanding has been reached. But how do you know? At what point can you be truly sure that you’ve become a character in the world historical sense, or in another person’s life, let alone in your own little fiction.

  How strangely we view the things that others hold dear; how cheaply. But that’s the rate you apply. Do you set the Bourse fair? Or have you perhaps aimed to skim a little off the top, entirely unaware that you’ve just passed up the golden gleam of world-historical-sense-character and signed up instead for the lead role in the Story of Stupid.

  Funny, and also sad, but definitely thought-provoking.


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