A quick note on a classic ッ
By Marguerite Duras
I’ve never, not ever read writing like this, with its commas and flow, and the thoughts that spring random and tie themselves with another in endless sequence, and the imagery so abstract that you almost can’t grasp it but that hits in exacting ways – all emotion – so to the reader it’s like Duras can explain it all, what frightens her and what she doesn’t understand, and can tell her to stay where she is, wait, and don’t stop reading. So you stay and learn and don’t stop reading. It’s strange and beyond my ability to explain just how affecting this book can be, like love itself. This is a book to love.
(UK: Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006)
Paperback, pp. 128