Tag Archives: Nabokov

Enough, Right on Time

Dear Poor Old Sightless Bird of the Feather-light writing! Let’s start at the very end. An absolutely abysmal place to start, I imagine Julie Andrews thinking. But then again, like Elvis Costello, I very much prefer John Coltranes’ (he’s a … Continue reading

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Letter Number One

Dearest of Dears, friendstress, you. I hope this letter finds you well (such a marvelous notion, isn’t it, of a letter somehow finding a person? As you have no doubt noticed, I only commit these kind of pathetic fallacies when … Continue reading

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Shush, Dearest.

Shush, dearest. I’m just about to finish the marvelous but exhausting Wolf Hall. Like that unfortunate man of the British Petroleum, I do have a certain desire to put it behind me and get on with my life. I will … Continue reading

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