All the things I do instead of writing…
When you are young, you are replete with unearned pride in your novelty.It is the sound and fury of those who are seduced by ideas from Nietzsche, Kant and Rousseau. There is nothing at stake for them, so they can enjoy the nihilism and self indulgence of claiming that human nature is both free and... Continue Reading →
In November, I read an article in the Times written by Walter James, who turned 100 last year. It was entitled, "I remember love, just not how it feels". It was a beautifully written and poignant article, about both the practical hazards of a frail body, and the decline of sensibility that old age brings with... Continue Reading →
I am currently watching - well, while I'm not laughing - a French film called "A l'aventure". I can't even begin to describe how unoriginal it is, which would be fine if every frame didn't resonate with misplaced gravitas, as if the story is somehow so artistically significant that the first scene must feature a... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 