Why writing a novel is like a socially acceptable form of insanity

Laurent Binet wraps things up, kinda, in the last section + epilogue to The Seventh Function of Language, but honestly the conclusion is so Byzantine I just could not figure it out or answer all of the questions. But does it matter? Not really; this novel, though a mystery novel in structure, is not at all like a mystery novel in mood or intention.We really don't care exactly who dunnit or why they dunnit - it's more about the send-up of academe and the examination in a lighthearted and entertaining manner of certain complex literary and philosophical issues. But we never or at least I never quite learn what the eponymous 7th function is; at the end I still think it's some kind of pronunciatory function (I now declare you ... which by so uttering makes it so) of language, with the idea tha the 7th function by establishing fact through utterance can influence the behavior of others - in other words, can become a tool of political oppression or control. But we also see - in the final debate in the Logic Club - that the 7th function doesn't work; and then we learn - I guess this may be a spoiler but if you're with me this far you know that it doesn't really matter - that Barthes did not discover the 7th function - one of his mentors (Jakobson) did so, and for some reason entrusted Barthes not w/ a manuscript describing the function but w/ a fake description - which is why the 7th function failed in the Logic Club debate, because it wasn't the real function. So what is? Who knows? At the end of the novel, Simon Herzog - now good buddies w/ police inspector Bayard - is still trying to puzzle out whether he's a character in a novel or living a so-called "real life - hah! - and has the final insight int he last section that he's not only a character in a novel, that in fact he is the author of the novel. Well, hm, I know nothing about Binet but we surmise that, like Herzog, he's an academic perhaps in a philosophy department - but he obviously did not go experience the life of his character, replete w/ murder attempts and the lopping off of his right hand. But in a sense all authors are (all of) their characters; as I have said elsewhere, writing a novel is something like a socially acceptable form o insanity, as novelists carry on these long and complex relationships w/ people who exist only in their heads. Talking to one's self is another function of language, I believe.

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