a wonderful juxtaposition between a discussion of Alain Robbe-Grillet and then a call for journal papers on surface. Wasn't R-G.
exactly the poet and philosopher of the surface, I refer once again to Last Year in Marienbad. The opening monologue is a
dythyramb to the splendid surface of the baroque, the endless mystery of the visible, the permanent uncanniness of the finish of
plaster, of paint. I'm sure Wilde or someone once said 'Only a fool wouldn't judge a book by its cover'.
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