Friday, 15 May 2015

Pencil as phallus

As Salem Sinai is writing (in Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children), history pours out of his body. The past has leaked into him and it is pouring out of his pencil. This all-consuming act of writing has left him devoid of any other desires:

I am unmanned. Despite Padma's many and varied gifts and ministrations, I can't leak into her, not even when she puts her left foot on my right, winds her right leg around my waist, inclines her head up toward mine and makes cooing noises; not even when she whispers in my ear, 'So now that the writery is done, let's see of we can make your other pencil work!'

Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children, Vintage: 2006 (first published 1981)

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