The Archbishop’s Ceiling by Arthur Miller
right up the Archbishop’s ceiling
right up the Archbishop’s ceiling
i didn’t understand it all but i liked it a lot
do these books make life worth living? no, but it’s closer than basically anything else
someone on the internet sent me a first draft of a novel
a harrowing, unputdownable, essential book on the history of genocide
probably too old now to have been a pirate
strange weird wonderful yes
pointless, self-indulgent, felt like it took less time to read than to write… in short, I loved it
it’s absolutely fine and that’s why it’s not
we’re not in Earthsea any more…
short and sweet novelette with a lot going for it
a premium usa contemporary prose chapbook
almost 600 pages of not really my thing maybe
now that’s what i call henry kissenger
why live when you could watch this???
reading the script of a very acclaimed film…
unexpectedly not on holiday, I read something light
notes on a brief bought of heady influenza
a book that potentially argues it’s worse to be depressed than abusive???
a gen xer performing cynicism without realising it *has* gone out of style
i liked this play… does that mean it was terrible???
chasing enough optimism to change the things i can surely change
the best part was when i spent a full day as an unpaid boom mic operator
in november i spent a morning in delhi
excellent non-realist novella about public transport time travel
it is a novel, but it’s a good one
Yes, Charlaine Harris is the American Marcel Proust.
some of the best fiction you’re likely to find… plus some stories that aren’t
in early November i spent ten hours(ish) in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
accidentally read a serious novel when i wanted a trash
an xxxmas gift from me and mine to you and yours
excellent short book on breaking up and live-in domestic servants
i struggle with a post over several busy days
a serious South African book about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission
i spent a few hours in cyprus en route to the east
how u dune? ur dune very well if ur dune 5
time passes but the present and the futures we imagine don’t
some of my best friends are the vampires from True Blood
reflections-on-a-serious-book-as-i-begin-my-journey-to-the-west
on travel when depressed: it’s a balm, a binge, a fling, that feels good but fixes nothing
havin a live laugh love moment like a much simpler poet
reading another of Forster’s late, weak (maybe pointless?) books
is it manic pixie incest dream girl or is it actually very good???
thoughts on a book read on a trip
a short text about visiting that Chernobyl as a tourist
some notes on a pamphlet on poo
arguable masterpiece from a south african indie press
more electronic and other noises
refreshing, uplifting and far from cloying depiction of someone living an ideal life
my dog’s toy duck is named “jg mallard” but i dont mention that in the post


















































