Keyword results: Essays
I'm sitting at my desk, watching my girlfriend get dressed in the other room. Through the door, gilded by the morning sun, she zips up her skirt and then fusses over her hair. She looks fantastic, and it's one of life's cruel little ironies that she only seems this supernaturally desirable when there is absolutely no chance of congress.
Call me lowbrow, but it's not often that I get a hankering to read essays. I just don't have the discipline. About 500 words in I'll start getting restless. Around the 1000 word mark I'll decide I need tea. Then conveniently, on my way back from the kitchen, I'll come across something that I simply must read RIGHT NOW, like the instructions for my blender or a week old newspaper, and it's all over.
Rare is the occasion that I discover a writer that I simply cannot fault. That's not to say I don't have my own foibles as a scribe, I do. In fact, I have more than my fair share. In fact... I kinda suck. I know that right now you're thinking, "He sorta talks like a gay Rumpole of the Bailey. He can't be that bad.
Jeffrey Eugenides knows about love. Dave Eggers, the ‘Bono of lit', knew that Jeffrey knew about love, and asked him to compile a book of love stories. In 25 parts, MY MISTRESS'S SPARROW IS DEAD charts that many-splendoured thing from its first flush to its final denouement, from ‘voyeuristic longing to disenchanted entanglement'.
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