Marguerite Duras is one of my favorite authors. Her elegant prose is so perfect at times that it becomes a clear river. There is a preverbal, nuance of movement in Duras' work that is a dancer at work. -Dancers at times striking such extreme postures that we believe there is no way for them to disengage.
Disaffectation and detachment are keywords in Duras's pursuit of love. Evidence of attachment disorder perhaps, but more likely the disinclination of a writer's lost in Borge's mazes to commit to any particular perspective other than the silken notes of erotic touch.
I recently read Yann Andrei Steiner and it's a master of alienation.
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