I've had some questions about my blog name recently so thought I'd share this picture. It's the short novel my blog is named after. This copy is a first edition that I treated myself to for Christmas.
When I started blogging I didn't want to write long meandering posts and only wanted to include what would be deeply expressive. But no matter how hard I try, I always have a feeling of inadequacy when it comes to expressing myself. I'm compelled to give utterance to thoughts and feelings and at the same time words and pictures - even at their most beautiful - seem like such an anemic representation of our inner world. Hence, Ill Seen, Ill Said.
I got home last night and this book had been delivered. The postman had left it gently laying against my apartment door and I came inside and peeled off the wrapping so slowly and carefully. On the back flap the bio refers to Beckett as still living. For a moment the present tense fooled my brain and I imagined a world with Beckett still in it. Then I was sad.