jessea, no vegeance. it's called term paper.

To defend, according to the book, I think unintelligibility should make new sense, not denying sense altogether. What the book as a whole (well, as much as I've read) says to me is that there something pristinely intelligent about processes, about a piece of work not being labelled as finished, therefore archivable, therefore static, and therefore no active life. The book, I think, proposes that passive life of work as such has been celebrated as intelligibility, as something eternal, while work with more active life--the life livable because of the process it generates with the reader-- is rejected on the basis of its being chaotic and not, presently and/or familiarily, making sense. The argument, somewhere in the book, was that people are still conversing about Dickinson, Stein or Heidegger. These texts still live in this sense even if they are often time regarded as almost impossible to find coherent isense/intelligibility in them.

Just a thought or two.