Eamonn Wall on Philip Casey
Philip was a great friend of mine. I loved him like a brother and miss him dearly. My collection of his work is not only a personal treasure...
Read MoreDouglas Penick on Pierre-Albert Jourdan
I never knew Pierre-Albert Jourdan, but he was the first person ever to publish my work...
Read MoreArnold Bennett: Who Buys Books?
I want some book-buyers to come forward and at any rate state that they have bought a book, with some account of the adventure...
Read MoreTrigger Warning: Trauma
The trauma plot flattens, distorts, reduces character to symptom, and, in turn, instructs and insists upon its moral authority. The solace of its simplicity comes at no little cost...
Read MoreBringing Memories
Claude McKay offered in Harlem Shadows a genuinely new sensibility in African American and Black Caribbean arts...
Read MoreThus Saith the Rhino
‘And’ is superfluous, omissible. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the regulated couplets of Tang poetry...
Read MoreOrwell’s Perfect Boozer
My favourite public-house, the Moon Under Water, is only two minutes from a bus stop, but it is on a side-street...
Read MoreThe tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right...
Read MoreThe thing about new blooms is that they tend to bleed— / Those petals birthed / hugging close / that come warmer weather are tricked into jumping away...
Read MoreI spent a good part of my childhood at home staring outside my bedroom window, following the trail of planes approaching the nearby Paris airport in the sky from my banlieue. I envied the passengers...
Read MoreThe tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right...
Read MoreThe thing about new blooms is that they tend to bleed— / Those petals birthed / hugging close / that come warmer weather are tricked into jumping away...
Read MoreI spent a good part of my childhood at home staring outside my bedroom window, following the trail of planes approaching the nearby Paris airport in the sky from my banlieue. I envied the passengers...
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