Octavio Solis > Recent Status Updates

Finished Malone Dies. It brings to mind the silent solitude agonies of my father, who lies in a strange room alone with his memories and his opaque wish to be home with his wife my mother, who opaquely misses him when she can remember shreds of her past. Telling stories is all they have left.

"With my distant hand, I count the pages that remain."

“Weary with my weariness, white last moon, sole regret, not even. To be dead, before her, on her, with her, and turn, dead on dead, about poor mankind, and never have to die any more, from among the living. Not even, not even that. My moon was here below, far below, the little I was able to desire.”

Malone Dies

Malone is dying but he has stories to tell, inventories to enumerate.

Molloy done! Now Malone Dies:
“I used not to know where I was going, but I knew I would arrive, I knew there would be an end to the long blind road. What half-truths, my God. “

I finished Molloy. It’s a staggering dual narrative; two men searching for purpose; Molloy seeks his mother, or so he thinks; Jacques seeks Molloy and becomes him in the process; cruelties endured and exacted by these two men wandering a fierce inhuman landscape. Lying to themselves, and finding comfort, peace almost, in those lies. Was one a hired killer? Was Molloy even dead? I don’t know.

Funny as it is wry, wise and profane. Molley's counterpart, Jacques is a masterpiece in rigid pomposity.