There is a vanishing point in our humanity, a point at which the other goes from being definite to indefinite. But this point is also the locus for the opposite movement, in which the other goes from indefinite to definite—and if there is an ethics of the novel, then it is here, in the zone that lies between the one and the all…
For the New Yorker, Norwegian author Karl Ove Knausgaard examines the points at which our reality blurs with fiction.
