Landlocked: Henry Green

Lorna Sage, 25 January 2001

Henry Green’s masterpieces, like Party Going (1939) and Loving (1945), are devoted to demonstrating the hollowness of traditional loyalties and roles, for all the world as if he were a fictional anthropologist...

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Dryden of course neither wrote nor adapted a Hamlet. But sometimes negatives, or questions, can say as much as positives. And Dryden is perhaps an odder, a more involved figure than might be...

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A good God is hard to find: Jenny Diski

James Francken, 4 January 2001

Was God created by a woman, a writer who dreamed up the early stories in the Bible? Differences in vocabulary and style suggest that the Old Testament is a composite of various sources. The...

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Poem: ‘The Gifts of Aphrodite’

Tony Harrison, 4 January 2001

These figs missed the picker moved to pluck tokens of love or welcome to strangers, missed bird, missed casual snacker, so are burst and outspread as red as hibiscus, scuffed pistil opera plush,...

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Poem: ‘The Golden State’

Stephen Knight, 4 January 2001

For Colleen If not the giant redwoods taking centuries to reach the light, nor the lights- camera-action typhoons regular as clockwork in the murky Tonga Bar, nor, perched above LA, the...

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Poem: ‘Robert Fergusson Night’

Les Murray, 4 January 2001

for the commemoration at St Andrews University, October 2000 All the Fergussons are black I’ve heard said in the Outback. Sub rosa, the Scots empire ranged wide. I hope Scotland proportions...

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Story: ‘The Excavation’

Joseph Roth, translated by Michael Hofmann, 4 January 2001

The summer​ lay there, waiting to finish. Autumn was when the strangers were expected, the hop merchants from Austria, Germany and England, the rich men off whom many people in our town made...

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In March 1992 I received a printed invitation from Francis Stuart to a party in Dublin commemorating a party he had given in Berlin on St Patrick’s Day 1941. I wondered, when I read it, why...

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What is funny and forlorn, where is the comic pathos, in the following sentence? ‘A fortune-teller once read my cards and said that if it wasn’t for a tiny black cloud hanging over me...

Read more about Bohumil Hrabal: the life, times, letters and politics of Czech novelist Bohumil Hrabal

Pipe down back there! The Willa Cather Wars

Terry Castle, 14 December 2000

First, a fiery allegory – the reviewer’s house is burning down! After tossing the cats out of the window, she has time only to save one object before fleeing: either a compact disc...

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At Tate Britain: William Blake

Frank Kermode, 14 December 2000

A great many people seemed willing to incur the expense, and the discomfort of prolonged queueing, to see the big Blake exhibition at the Tate.* Some, no doubt, were expert even in the most...

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Bolinas is a sleepy little seaside community about an hour’s drive north of San Francisco, at the end of a long, windy road over the hills. It isn’t easy to find the turn-off, and...

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Red Sneakers: Karen Bender

Jessica Olin, 14 December 2000

When we first meet Lena Rose, the ‘mildly retarded’ heroine and whirlwind centre of Karen Bender’s novel, it is her wedding anniversary, and she has set fire to her room at the...

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Poem: ‘After Dinner’

Peter Riley, 14 December 2000

Leaving the George Inn to walk down the small road to Milldale it is so quiet as the light diminishes pale things begin to glow on the ground. Each tree makes a slight whispering bat flitting...

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I prefer to be an Ottoman: Tariq Ali

Justin Huggler, 30 November 2000

No country in the Islamic world has embraced the West as eagerly as Turkey has, which makes it an intriguing setting for the third novel in Tariq Ali’s Islamic Quartet: a series of...

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Two Poems

Aharon Shabtai, translated by Peter Cole, 30 November 2000

Culture The mark of Cain won’t sprout from a soldier who shoots at the head of a child on a knoll by the fence round a refugee camp – for beneath his helmet, conceptually speaking,...

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My Old, Sweet, Darling Mob: Michael Moorcock

Iain Sinclair, 30 November 2000

Around the time of the London mayoral election, that stupendous non-event in the calendar of civic discourse, posters appeared out of nowhere with the head of a man who wasn’t quite Frank...

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J. xx Drancy. 13/8/42: Patrick Modiano

Michael Wood, 30 November 2000

Patrick Modiano’s fiction is intricately caught up in time, as he himself says. ‘The great, the inevitable subject of the novel, is always . . . time.’ And more...

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