SOURCE: A review of Awaiting Oblivion, in Review of Contemporary Fiction, Vol. XVII, No. 3, Fall, 1997, pp. 228-9.

In the following review, Malin comments on the “terrible beauty” of Blanchot's prose in Awaiting Oblivion.

Blanchot is a terrifying writer [in Awaiting Oblivion]. The action takes place in a hotel room; a man and woman make cryptic remarks about such subjects as waiting, writing, time, and death. But the man and woman seem to melt into other ghosts—these may or may not be another man and woman or their secretive doubles. “He” and “she”—and “I,” the author—become ambiguous pronouns so that identities remain obscure. And, to complicate matters, the author seems to intrude into the text—but isn’t the text his own creation?—and to offer circular aphorisms. Thus the text is, in effect, a philosophical inquiry “posing” as a fiction (or vice versa), a work...