The library of Borges’ childhood
“My father showed me his library, which seemed to me infinite…” Habitus translates a 1984 Borges interview. (Via.)
“My father showed me his library, which seemed to me infinite…” Habitus translates a 1984 Borges interview. (Via.)
Sophie Ratcliffe likens Wood’s How Fiction Works to a satirical James tale in which heaven is “a sort of kindergarten.”
In the current Oxford American, David Payne charges that the Northeastern publishing establishment disdains Southern writing. Partly this is a result, he contends, of economics and demographics, but mostly it is due to the “otherness” of the region. Some of this warmed-over lit-crit lingo grates, especially when placed in service of some strained and troubling arguments about race, but I . . .
Those “Modern Love” columns I never read on Sundays are being regurgitated as books now.
Fifteen years after his death, is Anthony Burgess in danger of sliding into obscurity?