Sontag uncensored, it turns out, can be as playful as she can be pitiable.
Aira leads us toward a realignment of values in our literature, where representing totality is unnecessary.
Does Professor Burnett imagine that the inclusion of “Walt Whitman” – or the many other bumbling snippets of nonsense like it – strengthens Larkin’s oeuvre? If so he is seriously mistaken.
It’s a moment that Beattie undercuts in the next chapter, chiding the reader for enjoying such autobiographical manipulations. And yet, it’s one of the few places in the book where Mrs. Nixon seemed, for a moment, to be a flesh-and-blood human being.
The first time I’d read it, at 11, it was about a boy, because I was young. The second, at 19, it was about love, because I was in love. This time around, it was about death. And because it was about death, it was about everything else, too, juxtaposed with death.
Creative non-fiction: regardless of where one stands on the debate of which of those two modifiers rules the other — and to what degree — for everyone, there is a line.
Not reading Roussel is similar to never having eaten a pomegranate: never having pulled apart the brittle skin, peeled back the bitter membrane, bit into each seed for a tiny squirt of juice, ending up with a red-stained shirt.
Epstein’s discerning eye for tantalizing details could have earned him a lucrative career as a gossip columnist in another life, but Gossip thrives on meatier substances.
At one juncture we are told, or warned, that ‘the world abrades your finesse away.’
John Berger begins with one seemingly simple question: “Where does the impulse to draw something begin?”