"It’s thrilling to turn the page after acres of Olympic-standard bellyaching and find the entire text of Kafka’s extraordinary short story The Judgement presented just as he wrote it, in one long overnight blizzard of creativity."
Me on Kafka's diaries:
Having a bit of a cry at this tragic fairy tale of the magical apple-cheeked landlord who might have to sell his 27 remaining properties to stop the wicked Corbyn from taxing him more.
@lauralexx
@govindajeggy
And in fact (I can’t believe I’m discussing cereal boxes on a Sunday morning) boxes like this can be placed in either orientation as shelf space permits. Front/back:
Annie Ernaux's Nobel win means that, in the UK, three of the last eight Nobel literature laureates are published by
@FitzcarraldoEds
. An extraordinary strike rate by any standards.
Writers who died in 1950, and whose work will therefore be out of copyright in the UK and EU on 1 Jan 2021:
- George Orwell
- Edgar Rice Burroughs
- Olaf Stapledon
- Cesare Pavese
- George Bernard Shaw
- Edna St Vincent Millay
- Rafael Sabatini
A minute's silence please for the brutal murder of a great joke (which actually went: 'When I die I want to go peacefully in my sleep, like my father, not screaming in terror like his passengers').
There's a real horror in the cognitive mismatch between the quietness and stasis of most of our lives right now, and hearing that yesterday in the UK, one person died from Covid-19 every two and a half minutes. It's almost impossible to process.
“OY!! THAT went a BIT FUCKING QUICK!!!”
I wrote this appreciation for the works of the late Martin Amis (just typing that phrase—Jesus), who has died at the age of 73.
While they’re at it can they also give us some pointers on why northerly winds don’t create jam and how come eating candle wax isn’t making the north and south poles switch places every year. People must have their concerns addressed.
Splitting the Booker was a terrible idea. It detracts from both winners. As Atwood said, she didn’t need the publicity. The chair’s job is to cast the deciding vote if need be. Very easy for it to happen again now, unless the prize’s Literary Director gets a casting vote now.
Deeply unhelpful photos in this report - the floral clock hasn't looked like the first pic in a long time. Here it is last year, looking frankly pretty dismal compared to the 1930s photo the BBC report uses.
It's been a landmark in Weston-super-Mare since 1935 🌸
But the group looking after the floral clock say they needed to make it easier to look after.
This is their plan ➡️
Who would you put in Room 101? Trivial quibbles only.
For me, people who queue across (and block) the pavement at cash machines instead of making a line along the wall.
What is it about 2020 -- or is it just middle age -- that makes me backward-looking in a way I've never been, listening to the music of my teens and 20s, remembering friendships, reflecting on the passing of time in a ruefully sentimental way?
As dad of the household, one of my chief duties is to use the rear two slots of the toaster that nobody else uses, so the whole thing wears out evenly.
Marcel Proust died 100 years ago today. On his death, his friend Jean Cocteau, noting the manuscript volumes of ‘À la recherche du temps perdu’ by his body, observed that “that pile of paper on his left was still alive, like watches ticking on the wrists of dead soldiers”.
Don’t worry, by sharing for free a paywalled article, you’re helping put news organisations out of business so there won’t be as many reports like this to make you angry in future 😀
The browser looked from Animal Farm to Animal Farm, and from Animal Farm to Animal Farm, and from Animal Farm to Animal Farm again, but already it was impossible to tell which was which.
“Like many showy personalities, he is of weak character. He supposes himself to be Winston Churchill, while in reality being closer to Alan Partridge.”
Get off the fence, Max.
The extraordinary opening of Joan Didion’s essay ‘The White Album’, where every line drives you on to the next, and every paragraph makes you keep going until it’s time to turn the page.
@MrKenShabby
@tomhfh
@michaeljswalker
Came here to say this. Genuinely having a cognitive mismatch moment at a Guido writer suggesting that wealth and privilege are to be frowned upon.
@aljwhite
Photographer: "could you just interlace your tattoo-obliterated hand with hers so that it looks like a massive alien claw? Lovely, thanks. *click* *click*"
'Reading Rushdie’s characteristic tidal wave of pathological pun-making, paragraph-long lists and how-do-you-do-fellow-kids cultural memery, made me think of Frasier asking Niles: “When was the last time you had an unexpressed thought?”'
My Booker guide:
Instead of stupid things like ‘Sounds good to me!’ and ‘How about Friday?’, Gmail’s auto-suggestions should be responses appropriate to any situation such as:
• That escalated quickly
• Seems legit
• Sir this is a Wendy’s
• Well done everyone
The Penguin Book of Oulipo, edited by Philip Terry. Out at the end of this month.
(The back cover recreates the book’s title using the Oulipian constraint n+7, which replaces each noun in a text with the seventh one following it in a dictionary.)
In June, Granta will reissue Virginia Woolf's diaries in their full, unabridged, five-volume form, with new introductions by Margo Jefferson, Siri Hustvedt, Adam Phillips and more. Chunky hardbacks, £30 apiece.
Things I believed I would see a lot more of in life based on the childhood comics I read:
• Lost property offices
• ‘Keep off the grass’ signs
• Magicians in tuxedos
The artist Tom Phillips died yesterday. He’s probably best known for A HUMUMENT, his treated version of an obscure Victorian novel (A Human Document by W.H. Mallock), which made every page into an extraordinary work of art. The final edition was published in 2016.
@akblakemore
@sarahgperry1
As Elif Batuman pointed out re the fact that the dog in Chekhov's Lady with Lapdog doesn't have a name: "No contemporary short story writer would have had the stamina not to name that dog."
Listening to The Divine Comedy albums in order and struck, as I have been before but never quite so forcefully, at the depth and scale of Neil Hannon’s talent and imaginative energy.
Also, someone needs to explain to the magical landlord that you only pay CGT when you sell something at a profit, so any "huge bill" will be by definition a fraction of the money you're making from the sale.
Bad news, everyone. Looks like Penguin are issuing all of John le Carré’s novels in this (to me, irresistible) look. May as well set up the direct debit now.
“My own particular weakness is a refusal to learn the difference between ‘which’ and ‘that’.”
Julian Barnes on being edited by The New Yorker (from Letters from London):
Delighted to find this beautiful 1987 Virago edition of Angela Carter’s 1974 collection of stories Fireworks in a charity shop today. Cover illustration is by Hiroshi Manabe.