Browsing among my books of art from The New Yorker, I was reminded of this piece I wrote about Saul Steinberg
So far as I have heard, the grave is, in its way, almost as busy as the womb. Not that either is something to dwell upon. To look back is to waste as much time, to be as morbid as dwelling upon that ultimate stillness and all that will move within it. Death, however, has […]
Here is a letter published, complete, in yesterday’s Argus about the slur upon me by Mike Weatherley MP. Sir, In your pages (January 9th) Mike Weatherley continues with his smear of me as the “Dr Beeching” of libraries. Such a label is in fact a job-share which belongs to Conservative ministers Ed Vaizey and Jeremy […]
The famous can vanish. The life of Milton Berle, though, is fascinating. And YouTube might make him known to those beyond the denizens of the Museum of Broadcasting (a great Manhattan haunt). Here is a piece I wrote about him.
Here is a piece I wrote about another American academic – Charles Tilly – with an idiosyncratic take upon history.
Susan Sontag is, of course, well known – one of those who attracts the dread word icon – although her posthumous diaries are a slog (on the whole). But do not forget her ex-husband, Philip Rieff, about whom I wrote this piece
It’s on elsewhere of course, but it is more than fitting to go and see The Artist at the Duke of York’s in Brighton. After all, more than a century old, this is a cinema much as it was when silent movies were the stock-in-trade and now, as then, there has been a palpable camaraderie […]
Discussion of events in the Neptune and its association with Anthony Burgess brings to mind his second wife. To see them together was to be in the company of a great double act. After his death, their son died tragically, and then Liana. Here is a piece I wrote about her. In the printed edition […]
The disc made by George Gershwin’s sister is always a delight. I wrote this piece about her. another leap across time.
One of the great post-war English novels is Anthony Burgess’s Inside Mr Enderby. This is one of six novels – including A Clockwork Orange – which Burgess wrote in Hove during a year when he thought that he was dying and should leave his wife something upon which to live. This came to mind during […]keep looking »