From a Novel in Progress
James Wood, 9 May 2002
“... somewhere came a transistor radio’s plastic sizzle. There it was again: all the roofs, and the brown life of the river, and the grey cathedral, which stands over the town watching it, and its two enormous towers, each of them showing a dark, louvred belfry – when I was a boy I used to think of those belfries as God’s lungs. Two of the saints of the ... ”