I recently found this book in the American Library in Paris. But I quickly put it down. Why? Because missing from their list is ANY book by Jim Harrison, the American author, and arguably the greatest living American writer. But then I understood. Boxall and Ackroyd are Brits. And we know about the Brits don't we, especially their writers, who have to be SO clever and load EVERY sentence with such cleverness that the books become unreadable cuteness. Except Le Carre. Note Boxall's "new" book, Den DeLillo and The Possibility of Fiction. Is that typical Brit clever incomprehensible nonsense? I rest my case.
I recently found this book in the American Library in Paris. But I quickly put it down. Why? Because missing from their list is ANY book by Jim Harrison, the American author, and arguably the greatest living American writer. But then I understood. Boxall and Ackroyd are Brits. And we know about the Brits don't we, especially their writers, who have to be SO clever and load EVERY sentence with such cleverness that the books become unreadable cuteness. Except Le Carre. Note Boxall's "new" book, Den DeLillo and The Possibility of Fiction. Is that typical Brit clever incomprehensible nonsense? I rest my case.