Category: Literature

Three Worlds

What’s the point of reading fiction? These days I re-read fiction I have loved for decades and there is no point in reading anything new.

Le Prix Goncourt

Should the President of France die in office, the head of the Académie Française is 24th in line to succeed. Something I discovered ten years ago.

A Man of Letters

    A niece told me yesterday her son’s hand writing is impossible to read. He disagrees saying that only one of his five teachers have complained (so far, in my opinion).

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Is There Anybody There?

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—  While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this and… Continue reading Is There Anybody There?

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The Price of Fame

As a psychologist I find it of interest that Clementine Churchill, wife of Winston, and Clarissa, wife of Anthony, both had problematic paternities. In those days of country house parties and before contraception there was a lot of corridor creeping.

High Endeavours

About thirty yers ago I was shooting in Hampshire and met Miles Clark. Having established that we were both brought up in Ireland, albeit on different sides of the border, he told me rather diffidently about his passion for sailing and only later I discovered he had written High Endeavours. Miles Smeeton was his godfather… Continue reading High Endeavours

My Father’s House

I expected a tense thriller set in Rome in 1943 but I got something much better. You may know the story; I didn’t.

Macready’s Club

“The men-only Garrick Club has finally voted to allow women to become members, 193 years after the London institution first opened its doors. The vote was passed with 59.98% of votes in favour at the end of a private meeting where several hundred members spent two hours debating whether to permit women to join .… Continue reading Macready’s Club

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Clarissa

  Pamela (Samuel Richardson, 1740) was a best seller and an early English novel. I have not read it. Nor have I read Shamela, Henry Fielding’s satire on same; he rushed it out in 1741. Both authors have gone out of fashion, fortunately for Hugo Vickers, as a request for Clarissa today is more likely… Continue reading Clarissa