I really love this short essay by Joanna Walsh: letters not about brexit.
It may seem that writing, especially the writing of fiction, sometimes on only indirectly political subjects, like love, has no role to play in fighting this process of isolation, but the very nature of writing exists in the tension it produces by crossing, in the gaps between one word and the next, in the pull between the words (the writer) and the reader. Writers cross borders at every point where character, description, plot make the personal political and the political personal. Each time a reader is ‘moved’ by a work, something is transgressed, a barrier is broken: when readers are moved by something from a page outside their direct experience, culturally, linguistically, there is a greater leap of love.
… and now I have to look up the Badiou reference, which appears to be directly related to my dissertation!