Currently working on an essay on Ideology and its place in Literature and Language (if any). Progress is slow. Knocked these unrelated (but always related?) paragraphs off this afternoon.
The need she holds for him to excel is itself the result of her own belief her own parents inoculated in her that she needs to be perfect. And their hegemonic conception of the word, like an aspirational fortress in the sky. Must it be essential to the idea of belief or judgement that there must ideals or standards to upheld?
The same true of his mother’s cloying intensity for and disappointment in her own son is the root of his neurosis. He was no dreamy sufferer, not a victim but a self-serving sneering individual afraid that the networks of people would find him guilty, less of nothing than the hard work and metastasis of discovery in labs or archives but more of a kind of dilettante conversation, a monologue with himself in the après-truth coffee house.
Compounded by an absence of a patriarch, much of what he accomplished so precociously been done in the eyes of a man who was no longer there to see it. Not for self-enrichment or ‘nobler’ thoughts, just to succeed and survive. Held in purely Darwinian parentheses.
Now that success had come in quantities and of a kind that his father had never dreamed of this conflict, far from being assuaged seemed to grow more intense and consuming. The message seems plain, even nuts-and-bolts pedestrian: leave at the right time.