All you men crouching by a nine-carriage train that’s stopped sauntering through the countryside, I know you dream that what you’ve made will move again. I know why you stay stooping ...
D.J. Taylor is the most charitable of critics. However absurd, third-rate or pretentious the authors he examines, he can always find something to say in their favour. In this latest study, he...
Salman Rushdie’s latest novel is a version of The Arabian Nights – two years, eight months and 28 nights adds up to 1001 of them. But it’s updated in every way. The climax,...
for Fred ‘Empiricism’ has been gone far more often than not; I think I originally learned it in my teens. Now I sometimes find it by alphabetising, but most of the time it’s gone...
We sit there, slowly doing the quick crossword, noting as so often in institutions the presence of characters who seem habitués, knowing the procedures, familiar with the staff, A&E...
For Don Paterson Rain works the road; its grey hand passing over and over, in waves: lashing, stotting down. A stour-wind’s in the trees, churning their heads, and the sky’s full of...
The two great preoccupations of Barnes’s Shostakovich are his own character weaknesses and his relationship to the Soviet regime.
From any imaginable perspective the middle of the first century BC was an interesting time in Rome. More and more people and resources were coming more and more under the control of one single...
‘Le Amiche’: The Mourners at the River and the Drowned Woman The problem with the women gathering at the riverbank. Of the river Po. The problem is the absence of other rivers,...
Hemingway and Wallace Stevens got in a fight, Drunken fisticuffs in Paris over who was right. En garde! Put up your dukes! Then one of them suddenly pukes. The moon turned into the sun overnight....
In the autumn of 1994, Jim Grant, a technical director at Granada Television, went to the Arndale Centre in Manchester and bought three A4 pads and a pencil. He was nearly forty and about to...
‘What is a hesitation, if one removes it altogether from the psychological dimension?’Giorgio Agamben, The End of the PoemThere is a moment in William Empson’s Seven Types of...
We were driving along at twenty-five miles an hour. ‘Desperate’ wants to know how the angle tree has went. Or we now can live over a wombat factory, said the woman coming in to see...
The act of making a poem – and it is a made thing, like an Assyrian brooch or Bolognese sauce (thus the word makar for ‘poet’ in old Scots) – requires a large set of...
Grief Is the Thing with Feathers, in which a being that resembles Ted Hughes’s Crow appears to a bereaved husband and his sons, qualifies as a novel by the familiar logic of its not fitting any other...
When he enters your flat, he makes his presence felt – spinning on his axis, smiling and pert, a smile on his lips, a smile on the back of his head! He offers you his hand – his...
Whenever we are in the company of J.M. Coetzee, whether it be an interview, a novel, a memoir or an essay, we are inexorably drawn into the realm of the ethical. We must judge and be judged,...
(Peter Reading, 1946-2011) ‘The only permanence I suppose is in having been’ –...