'hence is me, hence is every inch of this body of mine that bears your imprint, this book whose every page was written, barred, corrected, inspired, weighed, revised by you, your hands, your lips'
Hélene Cixous writes like a dream; her prose has always inspired me, from her early work and her more academic pieces on language and sexuality, to the present. This lockdown novel, in which the central character HC decides to escape Paris and flee to the countryside, becomes a meditation on womanhood, on being a writer and on being a human being. Comparing her life with the lives of those who have come before - Defoe, Camus, Kafka - Cixous has written a compelling yet challenging piece. Not to everyone's taste, probably, but the work of a colossal talent and a giant of literature:
'Despite everything I'll write. The verb despitewrite, Kafka says.'