The Best Way To Tell

Four Or Five Years - Nothing At All. But No One Over Thirty Could Understand This Peculiarly Weighted And Condensed Time, From Late Teens To Early Twenties, A Stretch Of Life That Needed A Name, From School Leaver To Salaried Professional, With A University And Affairs And Death And Choices In Between. I Had Forgotten How Recent My Childhood Was, How Long And Inescapable It Once Seemed. How Grown Up And How Unchanged I Was.

What Idiocy, To Racing Into This Story And Its Labyrinths, Sprinting Away From Our Happiness Among The Fresh Spring Grasses By The Oak.

I'm Sorry To Say That Far Worse Things Have Happened And The Literature Of The Holocaust Is A Witness To The Capacity Of The Novel As A Form.

At The Risk Of Sounding Like Virginia Woolf, I Could Live On £700 A Year.

It Is Shaming Sometimes How The Body Will Not, Or Cannot, Lie About Emotions. Who, For Decorum’s Sake, Has Ever Slowed His Heart, Or Muted A Blush?