It was inevitable that this new mode of being of literature should have been revealed in works like those of Artaud or Roussel and by men like them; in Artaud's work, language, having been rejected as discourse and re apprehended in the plastic violence of the shock, is referred back to the cry, to the tortured body, to the materiality of thought, to the ﬂesh; in Roussel's work, language, having been reduced to powder by a systematically fabricated chance, recounts interminably the repetition of death and the enigma of divided origins.