Abstract

This essay attempts to ‘read’ the first page of Jacques Derrida's Glas, while at the same time reporting as best I can what actually goes on when I make this effort of reading. I try to exemplify in detail my claim that what goes on in reading is much stranger and more complex that one might think. An intricate series of events took place when I first received Glas in the mail and opened it, reading first the single-sheet insert and then looking at the cover, the title page, and, finally, the first page of the text proper. In my case, at least, in addition to trying to make sense of the words on the page, all sorts of somatic and affective responses were involved, as well as a constant unsuccessful attempt to create a coherent mental image based not only on the way the words are arranged on the page, but also on the bewildering complexity of what the words say.