This Thursday we will read several short pieces by Francis Ponge. Here is the first of them:
From Taking the Side of Things (Le Parti Pris de Choses)
Translated by Beth Archer (unless otherwise noted)
The oyster, about as big as a fair-sized pebble, is rougher, less evenly colored, brightly whitish. It is a world stubbornly closed. Yet it can be opened: one must hold it in a cloth, use a dull jagged knife, and try to more than once. Avid fingers get cut, nails get ripped: a rough job. The repeated pryings mark its cover with white rings, like haloes.
Inside one finds a whole world, to eat and drink; under a firmament (properly speaking) of nacre, the skies above collapse on the skies below, forming nothing but a puddle, a viscous greenish blob that ebbs and flows on sight and smell, fringed with blackish lace along the edge.
Once in a rare while a globule pearls in its nacre throat, with which one instantly seeks to adorn oneself.
If figuring out what sensations are alive to the imagination in this & similar work, then attempting to discern the mechanics of the situation so that we can all write like this sounds good to you, JOIN US THIS THURSDAY!
OPEN TO THE PUBLIC!!!!!