NONFICTION building up the froth of appreciation.

I was just listening to a lecture on Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse 几号？ i forgot which number. The lecturer described the author's 'insertion of himself into the text' as putting himself into the 'very warp and weave of the story' something like that.

It reminded me of an idea I had a couple years ago, that is, the way in which people take the object of their affection, such as music, movies, or literature, and talk them around in the head so much that a top layer of froth is churned up, which is then regarded as insight, instead of foam.

In fact this ever novel insertion of the author into his own text is nothing more than a step in a progressive series of experimenting and tricks with the novel. Structural novelties that allow the novelist to feel as if he is doing something new.

Further, i completely empathize with Vonneguts portrayal of himself in that novel.

Its just, how do you differentiate between your capacity to manipulate words for the enchantment and entertainment of yourself, and your capacity to whip yourself up in a froth of ecstasy for the beauty and deep down deep meaning of your own words?

That is, how does the bullshiter not busllshit himself about how great his own bullshit is?