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voice very specifically: it's like no other.
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So, Salinger imagines that the literary art imitates that kind of
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voice, and in that way it is a sacred practice, a sacred art.
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Barth rejects the idea
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that language is an unmediated form of access to the real:
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absolutely impossible for Barth to countenance that idea.
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He sees life as continually, always already mediated by language.
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Now, I should say, as someone from the class
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who came up to me after lecture and asked me about this,
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that Barth's understanding of language as preceding human understanding,
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preceding any sense of ourselves,
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in a sense always slipping out of our control,