People are so *odd*. I recognise the redundancy of that statement given you are curating one of the greatest testaments to human oddity I've come across.
Marvellous, I can picture it. My father-in-law is easily riled out of all proportion by people he considers loud; but he once had to be dissuaded from going and complaining to someone not for volume but because he found their voice itself annoying.
Have been reading Hangover Square (finally). Such a fascinating novel. What really jumps out from a London story in 1938 is just how ubiquitous fascist sympathies are in the characters.
That was what I took from KP's review: she's a fantastic writer (I loved her first, clearly-defined-as-autobiog book) but has spiralled into Shtick. I agree the articles are generally hard to engage with. And she struggles when away from the PL Universe: witness the bafflingly lionised DFW piece.
Proustian moment, as a former Kilmainhamite, seeing the 123 pop up on the TL. Truly a vessel for all of God's creation. Semper paratus, said the commuter.
