Literary Critical Detection Fever

I am experiencing a fever of literary critical detection: my heart and head are pounding, the room seems to be spinning and yet I know I cannot rest.

If it wasn't for the infernal noises drifting up from the kitchen I could almost believe myself to be dreaming myself here in this calm study. (I am reminded of Descartes' words in his first 'Meditation': 'How often has it happened to me to dream at night that I was here, in this place...'). The fact that my ears are filled with critical voices whispering ideas to me only serves to reinforce this feeling of unreality. These ghostly thoughts have caused me to forget that the text I am reading is really about memory.

Let me say, here, that I have now reached the point where I am beginning to train my mind on the literary detective's method. I admit - without any arrogance - that I find him essentially wanting.

Now, if only I can find enough days like today I might be able to finish this work and move on to my next project (a piece that I have already been commissioned to undertake).