It is hard to pinpoint the reason for my attachment to Borges. A number of things come to mind readily: a mysterious mood, disarming brevity, a particular blend of erudition and noble ignorance… But most important of all, I think, is a feeling that his stories unfailingly rekindle whenever our paths cross—a feeling that I could do the same if only there was enough time. That illusion I remain most thankful for.

Addendum I (December 18, 1986)

Things are different with Kafka, and especially when it comes to his abbreviated prose. Although Borges sometimes reaches a domain close to Kafka, the distance between them remains so vast that I do not dare suggest a bona fide comparison. Kafka at his best is simply unreachable. He spells out the innermost secrets without a trace of literary contrivance. Where Borges designs and constructs, and then invites the reader to inspect the marvelous edifice, Kafka invades and possesses from within, leaving the reader with the task of designing and constructing a world commensurate with the miraculous incubus lodged in his or her mind. The mastery with which Borges rides a pen invites us to emulate his witchcraft, while we ride a bucket with Kafka as though we are riding a streetcar on our way to a concert. And that is beyond literature, beyond art, and beyond emulation.

Addendum II (March 5, 1991)

I could not have imagined that Franz Kafka would ever be beaten in my pantheon by another human, but by comparison with Jules Renard he now appears a mere poet. Who could ever beat Jules Renard, though?

Addendum III (August 6, 2016)

Borges, Kafka, Renard… Who could beat any of them in my, as it were, youth? Things have changed, though. By now, I can beat them all. And in my own book, the mind-boggling Residua. The book of books, as I like to call it. By now, my erstwhile fascination with my “precursors” is entertaining at best. It is not that I have changed my mind about any of them; rather, I have changed my mind about myself. To see what I mean, it is enough to browse through my writings at random for a few days only. It would take a lifetime to go through them all, anyhow. More than three-million words and counting. Indeed, who could ever beat Ranko Bon?