Irony - The Modern Mode: Either The

Great Books Are Readable Anyway. Dickens Is Readable. Jane Austen Is Readable. John Updike's Readable. Hawthorne's Readable. It's A Meaningless Term. You Have To Go The Very Extremes Of Literature, Like Joyce's "finnegan's Wake," Before You Get A Literary Work That Literally Unreadable.

Life … Is A Bit Like Reading. … If All Your Responses To A Book Have Already Been Duplicated And Expanded Upon By A Professional Critic, Then What Point Is There To Your Reading? Only That It’s Yours. Similarly, Why Live Your Life? Because It’s Yours. But What If Such An Answer Becomes Less And Less Convincing?

The Best Form Of Government Is One That Is Dying, Because That Means It’s Giving Way To Something Else.

Often The Grind Of Book Promotion Wearies You Of Your Own Book - Though At The Same Time This Frees You From Its Clutches.

And That's A Life, Isn't It? Some Achievements And Some Disappointments. It's Been Interesting To Me, Though I Wouldn't Complain Or Be Amazed If Others Found It Less So. Maybe, In A Way, Adrian Knew What He Was Doing. Not That I Would Have Missed My Own Life For Anything, You Understand. [pp.60-61]