- For God’s sake… let’s finish… enough for now?… – thought the man with short hair and glasses.
- We need many more flowers to be walking beautifully… – thought the woman in a black biker
jacket, skinny black jeans and black suede boots. This is not her favourite outfit… today, though,
this is the only thing she could wear… leather jacket, black underwear, black jeans, black boots…
only in this outfit – this is what she felt, feels and will feel… only in this outfit does she feel today
enough appropriate distance to that which has happened…. in thought, speech, deed and
dereliction…
Leaning across the passenger seat, she opened the door of her black Toyota for the man.
At first he sat with his back to her.
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In today’s Guardian, the book’s death knell rang…
“The arrival of the ebook will overturn existing models of economics and production…
Anyone who has ever attended a literary festival will know the form. First the reading by one author or a discussion among several authors; then 15 minutes of questions from the audience; finally a few closing remarks from the moderator, ending with the important fact that Poet X or Historian Y, whom we’ve just had the great pleasure of hearing, will be signing books at the adjacent stall. For an author, this next stage can be either gladdening or humbling. There might be a queue of people with newly bought books in their hands or there might be nobody other than a woman who wants to raise “a few points” about your talk. Worse, much worse, is the sight of a long queue at the signing table – impossibly long, out of the door and round the block, you never knew you had so many readers! – which turns out to be for Michael Palin or Alan Titchmarsh, whose pens and smiles never rest.”
…
Ian Jack
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click on the photo to not go to NEWSWEEK and read on…
