Meeting with a reviewer for an extremely esteemed literary journal tomorrow because he is reviewing the new William Gibson novel and wants to pick my brains about the man's oeuvre. Blimey. I am going to have to spend the afternoon speed-reading the lot. Cue hot bath, a pile of paperbacks, and a large cup of Yorkshire Tea.
4 comments:
oooh a perfect day!!!!
Pretty much. I was delighted to find that his last one, the one I hadn't read, is really good. And Yorkshire Tea is always good. As is a hot bath.
So that's the secret of book reviewing. And here for all these years (and all the reviews that I have written), I thought that the idea was to (a) read the book and (b) develop some sort of statement about it.
I have been neglecting (c), interview other people and let them do your thinking for you.
Hmmff!!
It was nice to see the reviewer & smoke cigarettes in the rain spray, and drink coffee, even if I was very little use re. Gibson. We did, however, agree that his literary style resembles that of an autistic Ian Fleming, which is a glorious phrase, though one resolutely unprintable.
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