Celebration of the “Hallmark holiday” is at an all-time low in the UK.
Mark Lawson’s Critic’s Notes.
It’s hard to care about the future of civilisation when we meet so few members of it worth saving and most of those behave like they know they’re in a movie.
The production is alienating, and not a in a sexy, Brecht kind of a way.
Consumed doesn’t read as a novel by a man who has spent most of his life writing screenplays – except, perhaps, that it reacts in the opposite direction, towards an art-house pacing.
Poetry Notebook is primarily a defence of apprenticeship and craft in pursuit of the elixir of memorability.
As I sat in the cavernous and entirely empty dining room, delicately abstracting flesh-flakes from my perfectly poached cod, my only desire was that I could stay longer. Much longer.
What does the term mean, other than that the wine is big, probably red, and certainly unaffordable?
The primal damaging act in this novel is the appalling violence meted out by West Pakistan during Bangladesh’s war of independence in 1971, in particular the systematic campaign of rape.
A couple of years ago, I’d gone with his big sister to another university, where a lecturer had mispronounced one of the most prominent authorities in her discipline and I had got into a fight with him.
A community of tattoo artists in Copenhagen vehemently reject the swastika’s associations with all things menacing and want to “reclaim the symbol” as a deeply ancient emblem of well-being and peace.
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