Williams Zemi

Literature 

Literature is nothing but confession where the writer confesses and then asks for forgiveness. Whether it is Chaucer, Hemingway, Kafka or any of the modern deracinated writers from Africa or Asia, it is always the same thing—this is my fault, forgive me! I want to tell you this is my fault, forgive me! If you do not confess and have a gung ho bravado of finding fault with others no one will proclaim you, no one will announce you. All proclamations and announcements are made from New York or London. It’s all so very depressing and yet compelling. We are compelled as blood brothers to protect the terrible audacity, this dark sanctity, of the writer speaking to us.