These books (among others, and apart from re-reading Penelope Fitzgerald) have given me much, in the past year. Posted to give you – even though there is no you, yet: heck, this is Day 1 of this thing – some tiny inkling of where or what or who I am.
Edgardo Cozarinsky, The Moldavian Pimp
Isak Dinesen, Last Tales
Gert Hofmann, Lichtenberg and the Little Flower Girl (Why has apparently no UK publisher has taken this? Why does this question need to be asked?)
James Kennaway, various novels: short, written late 1950s and 60s (he died in 68), much of them narrated through dialogue, typically two or three people in a room with the emotional intensity pitched so high there’s barely room for the scene-setting stuff; and mostly out of print.
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