Black Electricities

John Sutherland, 30 October 1997

‘I told the Führer that I had recently been reading Carlyle’s book on Frederick the Great,’ Goebbels records in his diary of 27 February 1945: He knows the book very well...

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First Filipino

Benedict Anderson, 16 October 1997

Few countries give the observer a deeper feeling of historical vertigo than the Philippines. Seen from Asia, the armed uprising against Spanish rule of 1896, which triumphed temporarily with the...

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Mediterranean Man

R.W. Johnson, 16 October 1997

By the time Albert Camus received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1957 the nuanced position he took on the Algerian revolution had caused a scandal in orthodox progressive circles. Camus kept...

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Pooka

Frank Kermode, 16 October 1997

According to its dust-jacket, Jack Maggs is ‘by the author of Oscar and Lucinda’. It is in some respects unlike that novel, being shorter, darker and less furiously though still...

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Poem: ‘52 Pick-Up’

August Kleinzahler, 16 October 1997

Luminoso e dolce Suzerainty Impetigo Colourless green ideas sleep furiously Titrate Spinners&darners Farallons Dag Frottage Slow loris Gating A bit of the other Cuisse-de-nymphe Chamfer...

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Cloud Cover

Adam Phillips, 16 October 1997

For three words once, in 1987, Martin Amis sounded like D.H. Lawrence. ‘Art celebrates life,’ he wrote in his keenly anti-nuclear Introduction to Einstein’s Monsters, and then...

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A Very Low Birth Rate in Kakania

Nicholas Spice, 16 October 1997

There is only one baby in The Man without Qualities. Her mother is Rachel, maid to Ermelinda Tuzzi who is the wife of Section Chief Tuzzi, a bureaucrat in the service of the Imperial Austrian...

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Poem: ‘The View’

Mark Strand, 16 October 1997

For Derek Walcott This is the place. The chairs are white. The table shines. The person sitting there stares at the waxen glow. The wind moves the air around, repeatedly, As if to clear a space....

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Inspiration, Accident, Genius

Helen Vendler, 16 October 1997

In the sixties, three scholarly biographies of Keats appeared within a short time: W.J. Bate’s and Aileen Ward’s in 1963, Robert Gittings’s in 1968. Each is still very useful;...

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Sympathy for the Devil

Michael Wood, 16 October 1997

In an early chapter of Mikhail Bulgakov’s funny and frightening novel, The Master and Margarita, written between 1928 and 1940 and now available in four different English translations, a...

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A Subtle Form of Hypocrisy

John Bayley, 2 October 1997

On the jacket of Playing the Game is a portrait of the man who played it: a portrait by William Strang (1859-1921), a Late Victorian artist now much undervalued. He did what is by far the best...

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The Unwritten Fiction of Dead Brothers

Dinah Birch, 2 October 1997

The daughter of Samuel Holland, a prosperous Cheshire farmer and land agent, the wife of William Stevenson, a scholar and writer of some reputation, and the mother of Elizabeth Gaskell, one of...

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The least you can do is read it

Ian Hamilton, 2 October 1997

Cyril Connolly is famous now, and was famous in his lifetime, for not having written a masterpiece. A peculiar sort of fame: after all, many thousands of literary persons share the same...

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Earl Grey Moments

Tobias Jones, 2 October 1997

The speechless quality of music is much envied and imitated. Spoken language follows in music’s wake, verbalisation a poor second best. The musical metaphors of Romanticism are steeped in...

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Poem: ‘Dead Button: China Command Aircrew’

Christopher Middleton, 2 October 1997

Now the dead button does not stick, Where should we put it? The rock face We hit, propellers feathering, off the map, Provided our skeletons, but first Sorrow, deep, no news, a lacuna cut out In...

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Three Poems

Charles Simic, 2 October 1997

The School for Visionaries The teacher sits with eyes closed. When you play chess alone, it’s always      your move. I’m in the last row with a firefly...

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Hagiophagy

Elaine Showalter, 2 October 1997

Michèle Roberts’s sensual saints are so bloodthirsty that I wonder whether the heroine seduces her visitor or eats him.

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Rainy Days

Gabriele Annan, 18 September 1997

The only book about Albania I had read before this one was Edith Durham’s deadpan account of her travels there before the First World War. It is called In High Albania and describes how she...

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