Monthly Archives: November 2003

A melancholy reflection

Another day, another atrocity. Interesting that Le Monde says flatly that 22 people are dead, whereas the BBC fractionates them: 15 Italians, 8 Iraqis. And at once there are calls for the Italian troops to go home. There is one … Continue reading Continue reading

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Barbarians inside the gates

The reason I’m in New York is to profile Bob Silvers, who was one of the founders and is still one of the editors of the New York Review of Books. Yesterday I was talking to his cofounder, and co-editor, … Continue reading Continue reading

Posted in Travel notes | Comments Off on Barbarians inside the gates

hard-boiled

In Boston, I suppose I ought buy Robert B Parker’s thrillers, but it’s been decades since he tipped from pastiche into self-parody. I’ve always thought that the reason America is full of serial killers is that they kill women on … Continue reading Continue reading

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A joke runs out

About ten years ago, when email was new and fine, I wanted an address that would make slightly less boring the business of reading it out down a phone (“at, that’s the funny little sign that looks like …”). Since … Continue reading Continue reading

Posted in Blather | 3 Comments

looking at death

Joan, whom I wrote about three weeks ago, is still breathing. The noise of it, relayed down a 50p a minute hospital phone line, is like machinery dying. I am off to see her at any moment, though I have … Continue reading Continue reading

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