Today I Wrote Nothing seemed like the book to dive into last night. Like a fool, i dove straight into his actual writings, and not the introduction. Kharms is superficially a very easy read, but the further that i waded in, the less that i understood. After awhile, i had to put up my hands in surrender, as i had to admit that i no longer knew what i was reading. I didn’t buy into any theories that his absurdism was a direct assault on Soviet society, but there is definitely an assault going on, more than the usual reality dismantling. Absurdism is quite rarely a barrel of laughs, but i felt like most of the context had been stripped away.
So i restarted the book, reading the introduction. Kharms is a far more bizarre character than i imagined, and while i’ve come across far more disconcerting writers, he has turned out to be extremely enigmatic for me.