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    Forgotten Manuscript
    Forgotten Manuscript
    Forgotten Manuscript
    Ebook128 pages1 hour

    Forgotten Manuscript

    By Sergio Chejfec and Jeffrey Lawrence

    ()

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    About this ebook

    "Sergio Chejfec is an admirable writer." —Patti Smith

    “Could anyone possibly believe that writing doesn’t exist? It would be like denying the existence of rain.”

    The perfect green notebook forms the basis for Sergio Chejfec’s work, collecting writing, and allowing it to exist in a state of permanent possibility, or, as he says, “The written word is also capable of waiting for the next opportunity to appear and to continue to reveal itself by and for itself.” 

    This same notebook is also the jumping off point for this essay, which considers the dimensions of the act of writing (legibility, annotation, facsimile, inscription, typewriter versus word processor versus pen) as a way of thinking, as a record of relative degrees of permanence, and as a performance. From Kafka through Borges, Nabokov, Levrero, Walser, the implications of how we write take on meaning as well worth considering as what we write. This is a love letter to the act of writing as practice, bearing down on all the ways it happens (cleaning typewriter keys, the inevitable drying out of the bottle of wite-out, the difference between Word Perfect and Word) to open up all the ways in which “when we express our thought, it changes.” 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharco Press
    Release dateNov 14, 2023
    ISBN9781913867720
    Forgotten Manuscript
    Author

    Sergio Chejfec

    Sergio Chejfec was a fiction writer and essayist born in Argentina. Between 1990 and 2005 he lived in Caracas. He was writer in Residence in the M.F.A. Creative Writing program in Spanish at New York at the time of his death. His books include: Modo linterna (short fiction, 2013), La experiencia dramática (novel, 2012), Sobre Giannuzzi (essay, 2010), Mis dos mundos (novel, 2008), Baroni, un viaje (novel, 2007). He writes about memory, the idea of experience and urban perambulation. He has published various essays and short stories in diverse anthologies and collections. He has been translated into English, French, German, Turkish and Hebrew. He was a recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship and a Resident of the Civitella Ranieri Foundation.

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      Book preview

      Forgotten Manuscript - Sergio Chejfec

      forgotten-manuscript.jpg

      FORGOTTEN MANUSCRIPT

      First published by Charco Press 2023

      Charco Press Ltd., Office 59, 44-46 Morningside Road, Edinburgh

      EH10 4BF

      Copyright © Sergio Chejfec, 2015

      First published in Spanish as Últimas noticias de la escritura

      (Buenos Aires: Entropía)

      English translation copyright © Jeffrey Lawrence, 2023

      Cover design based on a photograph by Paco Fernández

      Sergio Chejfec © Paco Fernández

      The rights of Sergio Chejfec to be identified as the author of this work and of Jeffrey Lawrence to be identified as the translator of this work have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

      Work published with funding from the ‘Sur’ Translation Support Programme of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Argentina / Obra editada en el marco del Programa ‘Sur’ de Apoyo a las Traducciones del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores y Culto de la República Argentina.

      All rights reserved. This book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by the applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

      A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

      ISBN: 9781913867713

      e-book: 9781913867720

      www.charcopress.com

      Edited by Fionn Petch

      Cover designed by Pablo Font

      Typeset by Laura Jones-Rivera

      Proofread by Carolina Orloff

      Sergio Chejfec

      FORGOTTEN MANUSCRIPT

      Translated by

      Jeffrey Lawrence

      TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

      Sergio Chejfec and I worked closely together on Forgotten Manuscript. He first approached me about translating the book in early 2019, and over the next few years, we discussed it regularly by email, in person, and over Zoom. At the time of Sergio’s passing in April 2022, I had completed a full draft of the translation, with his input on decisions regarding its content and style. I’m deeply sorry that Sergio is not here to see Forgotten Manuscript in its published form. But I’m consoled by the fact that readers in English now have access to this extraordinary work, a testament to a life that was dedicated to writing and to thinking about what writing means.

      Jeffrey Lawrence

      October 1, 2022

      Our writing equipment takes part

      in the forming of our thoughts.

      Friedrich Nietzsche

      One. This book can be read as the story of a notebook. One could call it a journal or a composition book – it doesn’t really matter – the important thing is that I’ve had it with me for a great deal of time.¹ I adopted it immediately when I laid eyes on it, half-forgotten in the display window of an inconspicuous shop in a far-flung neighbourhood of a city that I barely knew and where I had wandered for lack of anything better to do.

      The scene was the following: a series of long, neutral streets that sparked neither curiosity nor enthusiasm. In the middle of the empty morning, a brisk morning, someone stopped before the store window of a small shop. I was that someone, looking intently at the green notebook next to a slim, similarly-hued vase that could barely fit two flowers. Perhaps it was the curious visual composition wrought by the two objects that initially caught my attention: the thick notebook like the squat and sturdy foundations of a factory; the vase a towering chimney from whose heights the ovens hidden within the building (the notebook) released their slender columns of heat and ash. It was as if in the midst of that redoubled solitude – the solitude of the store window and the solitude of the street – these two beings (if I may call them that) had been ushered into a silent and distant exile akin to the space of a museum.

      I immediately became attached to that notebook. In the first place, I was drawn to the fact that it was a rustic object, lacking in any sort of sophistication or elegance. Second, it was incredibly cheap. Later I learned it was made in China. At that time, Chinese products had not yet colonized the world as completely as they later would – and I like to think that the successful assault of those flawless notebooks paved the way for the later conquest; the relatively successful assault, I should say, because I have never come across a notebook like that again.

      The Origin of the ‘Problem’

      The notebook has been with me since that day, a day when I was just wandering around and of which I nevertheless have the most vivid, enduring memories. Memories, for instance, of the urban landscape: blocks and blocks of nondescript buildings and empty lots that one could cross diagonally to reach the adjacent streets. Or rather, broad, inviting shortcuts that allowed anyone with a modicum of spatial awareness to save time, as if the street grid itself were optional.

      That afternoon I failed to notice one practical aspect about the notebook: its sheer number of pages, approximately three hundred. All white in colour, though time would turn them yellow, each with twenty-two lines, a hypnotic regularity. It evoked a calm sea about to be traversed, or an endless horizontal plane, page after page.² Its thickness made it even more singular: it wasn’t one of those notebooks that one uses and then quickly throws away. Here’s an image of it, both in its closed and open state:

      Cover and blank pages of the green notebook

      Out on the street once more, I felt utterly pleased with myself considering the enormous step I had taken towards the organization, or better yet the unification, of my notes. Up to that point I had jotted things down on loose pages, sheets folded in half or ripped from notepads, once I had fully articulated a note or thought. The Chinese notebook moved me to gather these observations into a single place, though I should make clear that I wasn’t drawn to its utilitarian qualities – which certainly might appeal to someone else – but rather its fragile appearance, which, as I say, induced in me an immediate pact of cohabitation.

      The notebook was also a sign of the imminent (or perhaps already existent; in any case I was unaware of it) proliferation of small notebooks and journals of various brands and designs (first and foremost the Moleskine); during this same period, I began to receive a series of stylish writing journals – as if the green notebook in my possession had opened the floodgates. They were the perfect gift for anyone who identified as a writer. I remained faithful to the Chinese notebook even as the other notebooks piled up, though given my own writing habits this led to serious difficulties and certain associated fears – difficulties and fears that have stayed with me through the years, as I will now explain.

      For me the notebook represents a kind of problem. It is a cherished object from which I will never part (the few times I thought I lost it I felt something akin to a physical threat; as if an essential part of my being were at stake), and yet it is also something that, when I write in it from time to time, seems highly unstable, so much so that it occasionally slips from my memory as if it were made of an evanescent material, or as if it simply didn’t belong to me in the same form in which it exists in the world. Does this mean that the things we cherish most are the things that are most indeterminate?

      Two. At a certain moment in my shifting relationship to the notebook, and perhaps because of it, I discovered the anomaly encrypted in the eloquent yet unstable presence of the written word. Something that allowed me insight into a dimension of writing by hand that had escaped me up until that point.

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