I really liked reading this essay, and I got to the end, and wished I could engage it in some more meaningful way beyond saying simply that I liked it. I’m just going to blame Facebook, maybe. Like! Like! Like! Anyway, I especially enjoyed the part where she called Sartre snarky. Because he was.
Here is the crux of all difficulties with respect to our eternal contretemps regarding truth, lies, authorship and authenticity. The role of imagination, desire, fear—emotion, we might say—on our concept of reality affects not just artists, but all of us, or at least, everyone who thinks, feels and uses language. Language spreads an overlay of thought and feeling over all our raw perceptions.
Ah, yeah, let’s all crawl into that cave with Plato, shall we? We could draw on the walls, and look at shadows, and describe them, maybe.