Snow Makes Cities Innocent Again, Reveals The

If Im Going To Invest The Time In A Novel, I Want Something More Than The Entertainment You Get Out Of Most Genre Fiction.

This Is Love: You Stop Bothering About The Universal, The General, Get Sucked Instead Into The Local And Particular: When Will I See Her Again? What Shall We Do Today? Do You Like These Shoes? Theory And Reflection Are Delicate Old Uncles Bustled Out Of The Way By The Boisterous Nephews Action And Desire. Themes Evaporate, Only Plot Remains.

I'm In Love, Truly, Madly, Deeply In Love With Perception.

Life, Like The Boring Drunk At The Office Party, Keeps Seeking You Out, Leaning On You, Killing You With Pointless Yarns And Laughing Bad-breathed In Your Face At Its Own Unfunny Jokes.

The First Thing To Say About Eve Is That She Was A Big Improvement On The Adam Design, Or That Adam Was An Extremely Misguided Variation On The Eve Design. (consider Testicles. Two Concentrated Nuclei Of Absolute Vulnerability. Where? Dangling Between The Legs. I Rest My Case.)