Books

27 December 2012

 A couple of weeks back, I took up the idea that we really only exist as creations (that is to say 'collections of impressions, images and memories') in other people's minds. As a result what we are (or who we are) is limitless, depending on the number of people with whom we relate - on whatever level. The situation becomes even more complicated given the fact that each person relating to us (on whatever level) also has his/her own set of perceptions and impressions, not only regards us but also in relation to him/herself. Surrounded by such an intricate web of possibilities, pictures, memories, beliefs and misconceptions, I do not believe that there can be just one single answer to the question: Who are we? Consequently, in literature, there cannot exist one single, correct interpretation of any particular character, but, instead, there must be as many interpretations (all correct from different perspectives) as there may be books written about the person in question.