the miraculous discoveries of forgotten authors

Reading Chekhov, one gets the feeling that he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing--that this disbelief was the quality that animated his writing, that made it different in its time and makes it so today--in the belief that direct transcription of human behavior, without judgment or even what might be called interpretation, best served reality.

Mary Baker Eddy advises against 'standing aghast at nothingness', drawing on christian sources.

Edouard Leve's Suicide (Dalkey Archive Press, 2008) was that author's last book:       

        You trusted publishers to bring yesterday's knowledge
        into actuality today. You didn't really believe in miraculous
        discoveries of forgotten authors. You thought time would
        sort them all out, and that it's better to read authors from
        the past who are published today than to read today's
        authors who would be forgotten tomorrow.