no. 13, september 2006

SO ADMIT TWO IS NOW OFFICIALLY TWO and continues to grow and multiply, propagate and propagandize. If it ever appeared that it’s merely a fluke, at this point it should be clear that it is a chronic condition, a chronic fluke. It should also be clear that its purpose is not to set standards, norms, or definitions of what literary collaboration is or should be, but rather to provide space, virtual as it may be, for the discussion of literature as a collaborative endeavor.

Think of it as table. Everybody’s invited.

The idea we want to throw at this table is that literature has been kidnapped: It has been abducted by a preposterous and dangerous notion that literature should be created in isolation, by a secluded, individual, singular genius. It has been seized by the notion that in the era of new technologies literature has lost its purpose and meaning. It has been hijacked by the proposition that it must be marketable. It has been crafted and designed as a name, a brand name, a trademark, a corporate logo, and then distributed in small boxes of specified genres, sentenced to borders. Whereas what it really should be perceived as is – a verb, an active force.

Our suggestion is simple: The function of language is communication. Literature is artistic creation by means of language. Therefore, the function of literature is also communication. People communicate in order to connect, relate to each other, in order to shape the world and shape themselves, in order to discern the boundaries between the self and the other, boundaries that should serve as stitches, scars marking the manner in which each individual gets grafted into the world. In other words, literature is a dialogue. In fact, it is the dialogue, one and the same that had been initiated at the very moment when the first self recognized the first other. And, again, everybody’s invited. What’s more, everybody is obliged to participate, everybody is free to share, no one is allowed to exclusively own.  

If you’re still not convinced, try composing a work of art in a language no one but you speaks, and have that work mean nothing, even by meaning nothing; make it with no purpose, not even the purpose of not having a purpose; have it not say anything, not even by not saying anything, and try, just try calling it literature, in a language that no one, not even you, speaks.

We’ll, on our part, do something different. It is something small, and not altogether original, but we’re doing it to further the dialogue, and at the same time, to take Admit Two one step forward. If interested, step this way…















four flashes of fiction


by Daniel S. Irwin & Ronald D. Irwin


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two with oneself


by Kevin Eberhardt & Kevin Eberhardt


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four Macao poems


by Papa Osmubal & Susanna Lei Kam Sio


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two Fridays, Tuesday, and a poem


by S. B. Smith & Kathy Ireland Smith


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Little Golden America: Chapter Six: Papa and Mamma


by Ilya Ilf & Eugene Petrov



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