The beginning of the sharpness

Usually when I read a book, even a really good one, I forget all about it and within a month or two. All I can remember is whether I liked it or not. There are a few books though, or sometimes just certain chapters or even sentences that stick. I catch myself thinking about Infinite Jest once in a while, or prefacing sentences with "And so but then..." I think about Annie Dillard's books pretty much all the time. If you want to learn how to see and pay attention to what is going on around you, you should def. read some Annie Dillard. But anyway, chapter 5 in Third Policeman is one of these things that sticks. This is the chapter where MacCruiskeen shows off his inventions: the small spear and the nested boxes. This is some of the strangest, most surreal and striking writing that I've ever seen.

MacCruiskeen has made a little spear. The tip is so sharp that you can't even see it. He says "What you think is the point is not the point at all but only the beginning of the sharpness." About the invisible sharpness on the end he is asked "What is this inch that is left? What in heaven's name would you call that?" He answers "That is the real point. It is so thin that maybe it does not exist at all."

This idea of things becoming smaller and smaller until they are invisible comes up again with MacCruiskeen's nested boxes. If something can't be seen, and can't be felt, and has no effect on the physical world, how can it be said to exist at all? If you take a very real thing and shrink it down smaller and smaller...when does it stop existing?

I can't even talk about these boxes right now. Maybe later.

It's true that I catch myself repeating this in my head at weird times..."What you think is the point is not the point at all but only the beginning of the sharpness."