Monday 25 June 2012

The pleasures of an old friend

Whilst on a visit of a professorial nature, I noticed my first novel, The Other Book, on the kitchen table, amongst copies of Catullus, Horace, and an edition of Latin Metre. Seeing it there was both poignant and pleasurable. It was like meeting an old friend on the train - you only have a few minutes to chat, and it's usually about something silly, but you feel that you've never left them. And so I felt that Edward and Guy Lane Glover and Tristram de la Zouche are not that far away from me after all ... I wonder how many writers re-read their books? Maybe I'll settle down with this at some point this summer, and see how far I - and it - have changed.

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