Short Cuts: The Evil List

John Sturrock, 25 April 2002

Living as we do in the Land of the League Table, there’s sadly little call to be surprised by the appearance of what some will see as a prosopographical breakthrough: a book confidently...

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In my nursery school nativity play, the Christmas before I turned five, I was cast as the narrator. My role involved sitting on a set of steps to one side of the stage in Silchester village hall,...

Read more about Liquid Fiction: ‘The Child that Books Built’

Labour history and anarchism are minor footnotes in most American history courses, mostly because those courses still focus on ‘grand’ events and people, but also because class consciousness isn’t...

Read more about More Noodling, Please: ‘The Bystander’s Scrapbook’

Hare’s Blood: John Berger

Peter Wollen, 4 April 2002

John Berger’s selected essays run to nearly six hundred pages, yet that is just the tip of the iceberg if one looks at the totality of his published work: the essays and reviews about the...

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Several years ago, Philip Hensher decided that he wanted ‘to do something impossible: to write a 19th-century novel’. To that end, he has composed each of the many chapters of The...

Read more about Brocaded: The Mulberry Empire by Philip Hensher

Five Poems

Jamie McKendrick, 4 April 2002

For Now I’m up in my watchtower, keeping watch over the beasts of the field, now few enough, the fowls of the air and the crooked ways of men, through binoculars, when the doorbell rings...

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Kohl-Rimmed: James Merrill

Laura Quinney, 4 April 2002

This Collected Poems is not a ‘Complete Poetry’. It omits Merrill’s trilogy of book-length poems, The Changing Light at Sandover, as well as a number of uncollected or...

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Poem: ‘Roanoke and Wampumpeag’

Susan Wheeler, 4 April 2002

Child, entering Ye Olde Trading Post, takes the pegs upon the walls For trees, fingers the beaded doll in buckskin dress, a moccasin, A square of maple sugar maple leaf, small imprint of a...

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Short Cuts: Blair on Blincoe?

Thomas Jones, 21 March 2002

The special celebrity guest, a common enough creature on our TV screens, is a rarer bird on the books pages of the nation’s newspapers and magazines. But a tip for twitchers (should there...

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Are words pointless? Bernhard Schlink

Benjamin Markovits, 21 March 2002

The generation battle, in its particular post-Third-Reich incarnation, runs through Bernhard Schlink’s work, both his bestselling The Reader and Flights of Love, a collection of short...

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Four Poems: Alligators

Ruth Padel, 21 March 2002

Versions of Alligator Creation She made the world’s first alligator from a spine    Of sugar-cane, Binding the spring growth’s joints and knuckles,...

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The first novel that Robbe-Grillet wrote, Un Régicide, had a quotation at the start from Kierkegaard, an out of the way source for an agronomist turned writer who gave an impression of...

Read more about I resume and I sum up: Robbe Grillet’s Return

Two Poems: at Home

Hugo Williams, 21 March 2002

My News Now that the sun has made it over the tops of the opposite houses, flaring through the wrecks of wallflowers and marguerites, the seeds from giant purple flowers spiral up over the graves...

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‘The painters have paid too much attention to the ism and not enough to the painting,’ William Carlos Williams wrote in 1928. Something similar could be said about Williams’s...

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At the beginning of James Lasdun’s novel, Lawrence Miller, a professor of gender studies at a college on the outskirts of New York, is interrupted while reading a book. When he returns to...

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Two Poems

Charles Simic, 7 March 2002

Trudging These Roads What good does it do you To complain, Charles? The fates shuffling your cards Are old and blind. You may as well look for them In every nursing home in Tennessee. One day...

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Karl Kraus had many enemies, but his friends and admirers are something of a liability too. They insist on his unremitting probity and passion for justice, but his justice was all his own –...

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Four Poems

Robert Crawford, 21 February 2002

Native Language Overnight I’ve listened to thirty Vancouver stories, Not leaving my room. My jet-lagged ear Tunes in to verticals beaming cold H2O Ten levels higher, twenty ceilings below,...

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