Dear Mr. Bellow
It fits with my sense of Herzog's project within the novel, one of self-detachment or self-observation through intellect: becoming an object to himself. Or solving the puzzle of life through pure thought. Perhaps I shouldn't quote them to you, since you wrote them, but here are two passages I like very much:
The second of these is a moment of unclassifiable self-address, and a repudiation of the novel, which gives the brilliant illusion that we, too, know Herzog – and must be his enemies because of it.
He noted with distate his own trick of appealing for sympathy. A personality had its own ways. A mind might observe them without approval. Herzog did not care for his own personality, and at the moment there was apparently nothing he could do about its impulses.
See, Moses? We don't know one another. Even that Gersbach, call him any name you like, charlatan, psychopath, with his hot phony eyes and his clumsy cheeks, with the folds. He was unknowable. And I myself, the same. But hard ruthless action taken against a man is the assertion by evildoers that he is fully knowable. They put me down, ergo they claimed final knowledge of Herzog. They knew me.
What I did not follow was the ending of the book. Moses stops writing letters, tamps the flow of fake communication.
At this time he had no messages for anyone. Nothing. Not a single word.My question is: how are we supposed to feel about this?