Recently we read an excellent long essay by Andrew O’Hagan in The London Review of Books (Vol 36 no. 5) about his attempt to work with Julian Assange on his autobiography. This brought to mind another ghost who in 2004 after being hidden for almost 20 years made a very public revelation of her ghosting in a book of the same name.
A blurb for Writing is Easy has appeared on Goodkindles (www.goodkindles.net)
Humour-seekers may be interested in following up the nominees for the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal, awarded annually for the most humorous book of the year by a Canadian (details at leacock.ca). They are: Arthur Black, Jane Christmas, Bill Conall, Wayne Johnston and Steve Smith. The Camino being the hot topic it is, Jane Christmas may be familiar from a previous book What the Psychic Told the Pilgrim: A Mid-Life Misadventure on Spain’s Camino de Santiago de Compostela (2007).
Let’s hope they’re even half as funny as the great Leacock. Does anyone read him any more?
A description of Gert’s writing room appears on The Next Best Book Blog http://thenextbestbookblog.blogspot.com.au/
Our mate Karl Ove Knausgaard heads the shortlist for The Independent Foreign Fiction Prize: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/apr/08/karl-ove-knausgaard-short-stories-on-independent-foreign-fiction-prize-shortlist
And the first print-run (8000 copies) of a Chinese translation of the first third of ‘Finnegans Wake’ has sold out within a month, propelled by a massive billboard campaign on buildings and freeways throughout China, The London Review of Books (April 3) reports. But it might be a while before avid Chinese readers get their hands on the rest. When asked when it would appear, the translator, Dai Congrong, said, ‘May God give me the courage to finish it.’
Gert sometimes wonders if Anthony O’Neill is a hoax and she’s the only reader in Australia who doesn’t know it. Why else would a writer published in 14 countries, a writer of such enormous range, imagination and inventiveness, have such a low profile in his own country?
crawling the earth
no matter where
you lurk in leaves