One's First Book, Kiss, Home Run Is

One's First Book, Kiss, Home Run Is Always The Best.

The Tantrums Of Cloth-headed Celluloid Idols Are Deemed Fit For Grown-up Conversation, While Silence Settles Over Such A Truly Important Matter As Food.

Seriously, I Do Not Know What To Say Of This Book [ Absalom, Absalom!] Except That It Seem To Point To The Final Blowup Of What Was Once A Remarkable, If Minor, Talent… This Is A Penny Dreadful Tricked Up In Fancy Language And Given A Specious Depth By The Expert Manipulation Of A Series Of Eccentric Technical Tricks. The Characters Have No Magnitude And No Meaning Because They Have No More Reality Than A Mince-pie Nightmare.

Name Me Any Liquid — Except Our Own Blood — That Flows More Intimately And Incessantly Through The Labyrinth Of Symbols We Have Conceived To Mark Our Status As Human Beings, From The Rudest Peasant Festival To The Mystery Of The Eucharist.

We Are All Citizens Of History.