Because to think that texts speak for themselves, beyond and outside any possible mediation, is an idea as old as naive and intimately foolish: it ignores history, ignores the diversity of codes and the radical modification, from century to century, of the horizons of waiting, of the questions that a text produces and that are raised to a text. He forgets above all that the great literary works are, as we were taught, inhabited from the very intimate of his fibers by an immanent critique, that the figure in the tapestry exists and that on it, on its finding, the very bet of literature is played.
