The end of literature, part one
The saints were uneducated. Why, then, do they write so well? Is it only inspiration? They have st…
The saints were uneducated. Why, then, do they write so well? Is it only inspiration? They have st…
A review of Autumn by Karl Ove Knausgaard, translated by Ingvild Burkey Karl Ove Knausgaard sta…
"My compulsion to write does not occlude the uselessness of filling pages with words" wri…
Painting is practical day-to-day thing I think. One might say something clever, one might say some…
We keep coming back and coming back To the real: to the hotel instead of the hymns That fall upon …
The focus of the first volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard's six-book series My Struggle is in the f…
A question arises from my breathless response to volume one of Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle :…
Before I had even finished Karl Ove Knausgaard's My Struggle , I had ordered a copy of his 20…