language between the subject who has pleasure and the one who says it. That is the theme of Agua viva where Clarice writes incessantly: Tm trying to capture the fourth dimension of the now-instant," "I want to take possession of the thing's is" "I want to possess the atoms of time," "I want to capture the present," "at the same time I live (the instant), I hurl myself into its passage to another instant." That is all she says. I want to capture my essence. I want to capture, not I capture. She knows it is a struggle. Beings resist being captured. Femininity always resists capture. Women know that something between having pleasure and capturing that pleasure is lost in the act of love. Says Clarice: "Time" is something "that one can't count." That is the point of departure. What will she do? She will struggle against the drive to capture to which she so strongly opens herself. Generally, culturally, women do not capture pleasure; they do not say it the way Lacan does. It is in their interest not to say it in a Lacanian scene where there are no sexual relations, because at that moment it is heard through a masculine ear which captures, which is dressed to capture on a mode which would not be a feminine way of capturing it. One must think of another way of capturing it, without appropriation. That is what Clarice tries in Agua viva.
The word separates, but that is not its only function. One must also struggle between truth and lie. When one is on the side of truth, one knows it, absolutely. But one is always carried off, delayed, seduced, and forbidden. As soon as prohibition comes from the outside, it is all over. At a certain level, Agua viva is a triumph. Clarice never drops the theme of the fault that the word itself constitutes. The text is tragic but without despair. She manages to produce a place where to have pleasure and to say it would not be absolutely antagonistic, where pleasure would flow into saying it, would not be extinguished through the act of saying it. As soon as the words come out, she lets go. They are words of thanks, words that say thank you. But to thank is a difficult task because it is possible to lie; one can thank when one has no gratitude. But here, she does say thank you, and with good cause.
To read Agua viva requires a double task. On the one hand, one can follow themes. There are themes in Agua viva . There is no harm done by respecting a certain order while remembering that the text is completely organic. One has to follow all that is of the order of truth, of genesis, of fatality. There are thousands of little themes that are of importance. On the other hand, one can follow that which brings pleasure. The text is full of springs. If one has pleasure, it shows that there is something in common between the reader and Clarice, something of a certain type of libidinal structure. If one takes a theme, it does not have to be absolutely isolated. In other words, if one takes a thread, one will see that it is not a thread but that it is going to produce a web. On the first page, Clarice repeats four times "I want," "I want to capture," "I want to possess," "I want to capture." This linguistic chain crosses the whole text. When Clarice says "I want," this "I want" is doubled, immediately. It is an enormous drive to take which is inaugural. She takes in fact not to keep. All Clarice does is put into syntax. These chains are of interest to the reader. There is a perpetual phenomenon of overflowing in the text. Agua viva deserves that one dare to let oneself overflow but that, at the same time, one not be afraid to border it.
Clarice talks a lot about flowers. To speak of flowers is such a forbidden thing, that one no longer knows that it is forbidden. We experience pleasure where she says it, but we wonder why. We should smell the flowers without letting go of the track and come back to her strange way of talking about them. What Clarice says about flowers can be put under the sign of a quotation by
The word separates, but that is not its only function. One must also struggle between truth and lie. When one is on the side of truth, one knows it, absolutely. But one is always carried off, delayed, seduced, and forbidden. As soon as prohibition comes from the outside, it is all over. At a certain level, Agua viva is a triumph. Clarice never drops the theme of the fault that the word itself constitutes. The text is tragic but without despair. She manages to produce a place where to have pleasure and to say it would not be absolutely antagonistic, where pleasure would flow into saying it, would not be extinguished through the act of saying it. As soon as the words come out, she lets go. They are words of thanks, words that say thank you. But to thank is a difficult task because it is possible to lie; one can thank when one has no gratitude. But here, she does say thank you, and with good cause.
To read Agua viva requires a double task. On the one hand, one can follow themes. There are themes in Agua viva . There is no harm done by respecting a certain order while remembering that the text is completely organic. One has to follow all that is of the order of truth, of genesis, of fatality. There are thousands of little themes that are of importance. On the other hand, one can follow that which brings pleasure. The text is full of springs. If one has pleasure, it shows that there is something in common between the reader and Clarice, something of a certain type of libidinal structure. If one takes a theme, it does not have to be absolutely isolated. In other words, if one takes a thread, one will see that it is not a thread but that it is going to produce a web. On the first page, Clarice repeats four times "I want," "I want to capture," "I want to possess," "I want to capture." This linguistic chain crosses the whole text. When Clarice says "I want," this "I want" is doubled, immediately. It is an enormous drive to take which is inaugural. She takes in fact not to keep. All Clarice does is put into syntax. These chains are of interest to the reader. There is a perpetual phenomenon of overflowing in the text. Agua viva deserves that one dare to let oneself overflow but that, at the same time, one not be afraid to border it.
Clarice talks a lot about flowers. To speak of flowers is such a forbidden thing, that one no longer knows that it is forbidden. We experience pleasure where she says it, but we wonder why. We should smell the flowers without letting go of the track and come back to her strange way of talking about them. What Clarice says about flowers can be put under the sign of a quotation by
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