LITERATURE: If on a winter’s night… – Intrigue

I am getting the feeling that I have lost the sense of enjoyment of this novel; the immersion of myself within its meaning. 

Chapter 10 gives up information that indeed ties the story into some semblance of plot, the Reader (still ‘you’) is sent from one screwed up government on a secret mission to another to transfer banned books between the two.  It is a viable–though silly–plot, and yet I seek more from it than a mere jolt of intrigue and condescending explanation. 

What is being told to me?  By the very fact that I want more from it, I can justify this:

"For this woman," Arkadian Porphyrich continues, seeing how intently you are drinking in his words, "reading means stripping herself of every purpose, every foregone conclusion, to be ready to catch a voice that makes itself heard when you least expect it, a voice that comes from an unknown source, from somewhere beyond the book, beyond the author, beyond the conventions of writing: from the unsaid, from what the world has not yet said of itself and does not yet have the words to say. (p. 239)

Is this it then: that nothing is being told; I am to watch and wait for something new to develop from it.  To discover from my own experience mingling with that comprehension of the layout of the words to produce a yet-unsaid story.  Is this it?

There is a new author you will be meeting.  You manage to get some of his latest, unpublished work before he is whisked away.  Everything in Calvino’s book is being whisked away, left without an ending.