Diary: Even Lolita must have read Nancy Drew

Elaine Showalter, 7 September 1995

In 1973, having finished a doctoral dissertation on Nabokov, Bobbie Ann Mason found herself compulsively rereading her favourite childhood books: series fiction about daring girl detectives,...

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Shenanigans

Michael Wood, 7 September 1995

The Moor’s last sigh is several things, both inside and outside Salman Rushdie’s sprawling new novel. It is the defeated farewell of the last Moorish ruler in Spain, the Sultan...

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Doubling the Oliphant

Ruth Bernard Yeazell, 7 September 1995

Even by the standards of her contemporaries Margaret Oliphant’s productivity was phenomenal. As the author of 98 novels, she surpassed that other prodigious maker of fictions, Anthony...

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Poem: ‘In Gratuitous Witness’

Laura (Riding) Jackson, 7 September 1995

After I had long nursed a faithIn the promise on which poetry has thrived –The recalled promise of languageAt its careful rising in mindsTo teach all, little by little,Until life and speech...

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Poem: ‘Male Infertility’

Robert Crawford, 24 August 1995

Slouched there in the Aston Martin On its abattoir of upholstery He escapes To the storming of the undersea missile silo, The satellite rescue, the hydrofoil That hits the beach, becoming a car...

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Realty Meltdown

Geoff Dyer, 24 August 1995

Richard Ford’s narrator, Frank Bascombe, quit serious writing to become a sports-writer. This was the making of Ford. It wasn’t until he became Bascombe, the sportswriter, that Ford...

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Even paranoids have enemies

Frank Kermode, 24 August 1995

‘We were – and we knew we were – Cambridge – the essential Cambridge in spite of Cambridge.’ So F.R. Leavis in an exultant moment; and this biography for the most...

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Two Poems

Douglas Oliver, 24 August 1995

The lnfibulation Ceremony We have reached the limit of poetry: Western people’s ignorance of how their own cultures are viewed by integrationist Islam is too profound. The following poem...

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Diary: Ulster’s Long Sunday

Tom Paulin, 24 August 1995

Late July, hot and humid, I set out for Belfast via the small Shropshire town of Wem. Why Wem? Well, I’m working on a book about William Hazlitt, and feel the need to walk some of the...

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Two Poems

Matthew Sweeney, 24 August 1995

Upstairs Last year I was going downstairs, now I’m going upstairs. Up there is a rocking horse in red velvet. I’ll dust him off with a crow’s wing, then I’ll shake the...

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Apologising

James Wood, 24 August 1995

Edmund White has always struggled between appeasing the gods of his art and paying off the princelings of politics. Endearingly, and sometimes infuriatingly, he insists on doing both, and the...

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Lots to Digest

Gabriele Annan, 3 August 1995

‘All stories have in them the seed of all other stories: any story, if continued long enough, becomes other stories,’ declares a female hermit who is the Ur-storyteller in this Indian...

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Warming My Hands and Telling Lies

Dinah Birch, 3 August 1995

One of the most convincing inclusions in Granta’s list of the 20 best young British novelists, A.L. Kennedy has composed a distinctive voice out of youth and national identity. She was born...

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Sister-Sister

Terry Castle, 3 August 1995

It is impossible for the lover of Jane Austen – and lover is the operative word here – to have anything but mixed feelings about Austen’s older sister Cassandra. On one hand, we...

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Two Poems

Alistair Elliot, 3 August 1995

A Family Wireless You switch it on, pour out a cup of tea, drink it, and finally sounds of outer space clearing its throat blow from the vizored face; pause; then the swelling voice of history refills...

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Poem: ‘Millefiori’

Lavinia Greenlaw, 3 August 1995

For Don Paterson He preferred his glass eye to be of itself, vitreous not ocular or even optically convincing. Without pupil or iris, allowed to risk its stubbornly fluid nature, the blue held...

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Four Poems

Ian Hamilton, 3 August 1995

Biography Who turned the page? When I went out last night his Life was left wide-open, halfway through, in lamplight on my desk: The Middle Years. Now look at him. Who turned the page? Steps...

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Poem: ‘Monster’

Lesley Saunders, 3 August 1995

monstrum: any occurrence out of the ordinary course of nature supposed to indicate the will of the gods, a marvel. These back streets are an oven, I’m sweating like a fountain – my...

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