I have read

... nothing ...

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I have written

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How to get rid of one's bad karma?

Cutting the tree under which one had been lashed.

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I never read Ananda Devi properly. I've only received some translated fragments from a colleague that has written to me to say the writer is coming to Warsaw. Supposedly I am among those few people that might eventually get excited with the news; and I'm not in Warsaw, of course. 
Ananda Devi doesn't make a pleasant or relaxing reading. But she might make a good material for me. Not for the translingual potential that must be common to any inhabitant of the Ile Maurice; she makes rather a mediocre use of it, spicing her prose with some Creole sentences. But there is something else, the accumulated tension between her and her inherited culture. Does this prepare some sort of ground for the extracultural becoming of man I am after?
Certainly, she is very angry indeed about all those falsified messages with which the female subject is stuffed by her cultural context; all those tales of submission and dependence. But I'm not sure if it's really what I want. How deep is this cultural criticism supposed to cut. 


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Ananda Devi, L'arbre fouet, Paris, L'Harmattan, 1997.


Leiden, 28.04.2019
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