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As I try to relax on the Greek island, which is romantically haunted by Cohen and Marianne Ihlen, I am yet further haunted by one of Beckett's letters, and by grammar.
A trip to Barcelona, on a hot summer day, sparks thoughts on Orwell, nationalism and a shellfish lunch with an old lover.
Sketches from the French capital, in the first of Deborah Levy's new series of travelogues for the NS.
Deborah Levy visits Frida Kahlo: Making Her Self Up at the V&A.
From the Long Players series: writers on their most cherished albums.
Thank God Paul Morley’s The Age of Bowie doesn't try to be an objective, sensible biography.