“Somehow his life seems more truthful than mine, stronger, even able to draw mine into it like the pull of a dark star.” (from A Sport and a Pastime) When James Salter passed away last week, on Long Island at the age of ninety, American letters lost one of its greats. Widely reported, his death… Continue reading These Luminous Days: James Salter (1925-2015)
Author: Ben
Iceland Fragments (Pt.II)
In the summer of 2009 I went back to Iceland. This time I was joined by an old school friend, partly for company and partly to split the cost of a rental car. What follows are excerpts from the journal I kept. Gradual adjustment to pace, space, clarity of light, air. Watching of clouds as… Continue reading Iceland Fragments (Pt.II)
Iceland Fragments (Pt. I)
In the summer of 2008 I went to Iceland for the first time, alone with a one-man tent. What follows are excerpts from the journal I kept. Beneath an enormous blue sky we drove through the grass-smothered lava fields towards the city. I have not yet seen its heart and walking out this evening I… Continue reading Iceland Fragments (Pt. I)
Notes For a Flawless Novel
Title robust but beautiful, precise yet expansive, irrefutably suited to the work. Early pages intoxicating and compelling in equal measure, ensnaring readers of every age, race, inclination and intellect. Strong voice established immediately, original and unique yet paying subtle homage to esteemed antecedents from Western canon and beyond. Setting remote and perhaps exotic but palpably… Continue reading Notes For a Flawless Novel
Recent Reading
As has been said elsewhere, Chad Harbach deserves credit for a crafting a compulsively readable novel around one of the world’s most tedious team sports. That THE ART OF FIELDING keeps the reader hooked for over 500 pages is even more impressive. In fact it is the baseball story that carries the book—Henry Skrimshander, prodigiously… Continue reading Recent Reading
The view from the hill
I used to keep a blog on my old Myspace page. I was in my mid-twenties, hauling my guitar back and forth across London, playing weeknight sets to half-empty rooms, writing whenever time allowed, until one day I thought better of the idea and deleted the lot. These days any aspiring writer is supposed to… Continue reading The view from the hill