ABSTRACT Jacques Roubaud, a lively partisan of formin literature, nevertheless has a cloudy side. This essay dwells on his attention to a formless haze that shadows all things' definition, and that form cannot avoid exposing wherever it declares itself.
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ANN SMOCK; Cloudy Roubaud. Representations 1 May 2004; 86 (1): 141–174. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/rep.2004.86.1.141
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