a stone on the phone breaking a wishbone
I have a feeling that I bought the most marvellous book today. I spent my money like a guilty Catholic nun buying candy for the - oh, what a horrible metaphor that would have been. Forget about it. The book is called - ready? - the book is called, hang on, I actually forgot, oh yes, By Nightfall. By Michael Cunningham, released this year. He wrote The Hours and I absolutely detest that movie, which won fuckloads of prizes for its endearing emptiness. But I have been reading some excerpts of By Nightfall on this book blog - A BOOK BLOG - and every single line just made me pant and think I needed to get to know this writer.
I also had all kinds of insights yesterday, in bed, the kind of insights you actually physically need to write down in order not to forget them. More even - the kind of insights you need to staple somewhere to stare at it for a couple of days - because its truth is so gratifying and naked that it pulls you in like an obscene French sex scene.
Posted by Alice at 1:50 AM