TRTR - Chapter VI au revoir

[alice wellintown]

James Wood says that there is nothing harder than the creation of
fictional characters. Of course, diamonds are harder and dirt is
tougher and a chocolate Jesus is sweeter, but Wood is talking about
fiction and how it works, so...and itz a itzy bitzy book...and
well...we get his point. Sorry you didn't get mines, what it that I
likes Otto well enough sure as fiction but he sure do stink up the
joint. What WG does well, and the list is quite long, is to animate
his portraits. And he do the policeman's voice so sick. Wood talks
about Conrad writing longer works to try to convince the reader of his
characters. He kept adding more and more, like a painter with a brush.
Ever painted? Well, after a while more makes a mess of less and you
got to think about a new canvas. An unfinished man, as Yeats calls his
portrait of the young artist, is not like a character of fiction. What
finishes a character can be nothing more than an ashplant or a dream
about something beautiful. Otto is finished and trim. His sling and
his jottings in shorthanded theatrics, his fictions, he reminds me of
the sad eyed lady of Dylan's Lowlands but on a whole nuther beveled
bleed.
He ain't mo friend of mine.
But I like to see him kick just the same.